#OUTRAGE: FINAL CHAPTER

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

Delicate, Chapter Three: Cinnamon Girl

here we go again! same disclaimers as last time. important talks and a long awaited reunion <3

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Narcissa was conflicted, her smile tight as she took in the news.

She and Mary had been invited to a party by Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, who was extremely close to Alice Fortescue.

Alice Fortescue, that who surely going to be present at aforementioned party.

Did Alice know she had been invited? How did she feel about it? Was she the reason Lily had asked for Narcissa, specifically, as Mary’s plus one?

And then, how would Alice react when they saw each other again? How was she? Did she think about her, from time to time?

“You don’t look as excited as I expected. What’s wrong?” Mary interrupted Narcissa’s spiralling, bringing her back to reality. A party at the Potter’s meant a lot of celebrities and therefore the possibility to make oneself known: it was a chance too good for Mary to miss. However, Narcissa was bound to behave in some stupid, pathetic way and she needed Mary to stop her in case she started demolishing her public image by, let’s say, bursting out crying in front of her late teenage love.

“Sit down, I’m going to tell you a story. But you’ll have to promise me you won’t ask any questions until I’m finished, okay?” Narcissa said as she took Bunny from her tank and let her slither around her arm, because for some obscure, probably-rooted-in-her-troubled-childhood reason, it brought her some comfort.

Narcissa sat on the carpet, Mary mirroring her and not speaking a word. She looked worried, and that made something melt in Narcissa’s chest: she hadn’t felt like this since Andy (and Bella, in a way) left, when she was still a little innocent girl sharing little innocent secrets with her sisters. It happened a lot with Mary, an overcoming feeling of nostalgia that was only accentuated by the way the girl seemed to have adapted to Narcissa’s house, by learning in which drawer she kept the spoons, which switch turned on each light, which doors tended to fly open with a smack if you opened them too quickly.

God, she was getting soft.

“You know I went to a conservatory, Hogwarts, right?” Narcissa began.

Mary just nodded, without interrupting her.

“I attended that boarding school for five years, so basically my whole adolescence. I was already professionally trained when I started, obviously, and private teachers were much stricter than the ones at school, so I have always been ahead of my classmates and I found myself with a lot of free time and freedom, especially compared to my life back home. I was never quite able to shake off the feeling my parents were watching me, though, so I never had the courage to really break their rules. That was until a new girl showed up, at the beginning of my third year.” She couldn’t help the smile that naturally bloomed on her lips, her gaze fixed on Bunny.

“Her hair was a mess of curls, her smile a bit crooked, her tie always out of place. Subconsciously, I knew she was the exact opposite of what my parents approved of, so I immediately despised her. However, fate decided it would have been funny to tie our lives together, and since my roommate had coincidentally graduated, the two of us ended up sharing a room. And I’m forever glad it happened, Mary. This is the part where things start to get really personal, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.” Mary replied, raising her palms in surrender. She had gotten a little closer, moved by curiosity.

“They better be. Anyway, this girl took guitar lessons and I had piano, but we still shared singing classes together. Oh, Mary…I will never forget the first time I’ve heard her singing. I remember thinking, and it is a big compliment considering where I grew up, that I was lucky for witnessing the beginning of something so great. You see, I have been raised to become a singer, to use my voice as a means to get richer and greater, but I still felt like an amateur standing next to her. Not because her technique was better than mine, the teachers always praised me more,” Narcissa added, aware she sounded ostentatious, “but she had this energy, this unique style that wasn’t…fabricated, like mine. I stood next to her, and I realised the way I sung might have been flawless and pleasing to the ear, but it could never be anything more. It was never going to feel real.”

Narcissa paused, trying to find the right words to continue this conversation.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Mary tried to come to her rescue, but Narcissa shook her head.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…hard to voice these thoughts for the first time. I’ve never told this to anyone,” Narcissa replied, a bit bashful. “At the time of the story, my relationship with my sisters was already a mess, and we didn’t talk much. But you already know that, the media made sure of it.” She added, bitterly.

She had grown used to it, seeing as she had been under flashing cameras since the day she was born. Mary pressed her lips together, looking regretful, like she could’ve just ignored the news spread by paparazzi.

“Because I was a child, the moment I was confronted with this random girl that I considered so much better than me, I got incredibly jealous. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But she was always friendly, laughing at my snarky comments like they were inside jokes, and even when I pulled pranks on her she retaliated like it was a game between the two of us. I like to remember those days as the the chance I had at a normal adolescence.”

“What did you do?”

“I know you’re the one who put that red sock in my white laundry, Black. Since you like pink so much, I’ve mixed some hair dye with your shampoo. Now we match!”

“You-“

“I was mean, at times, but she always reacted in a way that inevitably made me feel like shit. For instance, her parents owned an ice cream parlor, and when I made a snobbish joke about that, she showed up the next day with a giant bowl of every ice cream flavor imaginable. We ate it all in one afternoon.”

“What were you saying about my parents selling ice cream?”

Narcissa took another spoonful and closed her eyes in delight.

“That it is truly one of the most noble and respectable occupations. Wait, what flavour is that?”

“Mmh…Blue?”

“I fell for her smile, her clumsiness, the songs she wrote. She was a poet. Still is. I wanted to be more like her, so we started spending more time together, skipping the classes we didn’t like, hiding in the yard behind the dorms. She smoked and played her guitar, while I simply watched her. I even started writing songs, which wasn’t expected of me by my parents: all my future albums had already been written, hidden in my future manager’s drawer.”

Narcissa noticed that Mary was itching to ask something, probably what happened after that, but she was stopping herself.

It was a cute effort, cute enough to be rewarded.

“We fell in love. We kept it a secret at school, but I knew she expected to make it official once we were out of there. As you know, however, I had other plans for my future,” then Narcissa added, rolling her eyes, “Well, my parents had other plans. Anyway, we had this huge row, we were both mad at each other, and I said some things that deeply hurt her and that I wish I had never spoken. There, end of the tale.”

Mary was gaping at her, disappointment evident on her face.

“Time for the questions,” Narcissa allowed.

“That can’t be the end! What happened then?” Mary protested quickly.

Narcissa smiled so, so sadly.

“She made a song inspired by the last words I’ve said to her, became worldwide famous because of it, and I’ve had to listen to my worst mistake playing on the radio for ten years. And apparently, we are going to one of her best friends’ party this weekend.”

Mary looked comically horrified. “Oh my God, Narcissa… I had no idea, I’ll just tell Evans we can’t go-“

“No, don’t,“ interrupted Narcissa, “It’s fine, really. Maybe I’m delusional, but…” she sighed, “I just want to see her again. The worst part is that we never got any closure: I just ran away, and she didn’t chase after me. Not like I was expecting her to, obviously.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. During the first years after their ‘breakup’, Narcissa had wanted nothing to do with Alice, because she had showed her the promise of what could’ve been their future in another life, and it was too good and too far from her family’s expectations.

In the end, though, all that was left was an aching longing that she had put into words with songs that would’ve never seen the light of day. Or so she had thought, before she left her home on a delirious rampage.

Narcissa had hoped for a call, a text, anything really. And yet, the only way she could hear from Alice was on the radio, or through her headphones. She finally had the chance to speak to her, and she wanted to take it oh, so desperately.

“Lily told me your cousins will be there, too.” Mary interrupted the heavy silence, and Narcissa was grateful for the change of topic. Mary had crossed the carpet that divided them, close enough to hug Narcissa if she wanted to.

She decided to let her head fall to the other girl’s shoulder instead- Narcissa had never been too keen on physical contact, and yet this small display of affection was enough to comfort her. It was enough to make her realize she hadn’t been comforted in years. Fuck.

“I figured. I want to talk to them, it’s been so long. I’m so proud of them. Regulus, especially,” Narcissa let her hand travel on the carpet, while Mary listened in silence.

“He left when he was only 18. And he didn’t even go to his brother first, he preferred staying with this girl no one ever heard of.” Narcissa remembered with a smile.

She didn’t know the details of what happened between the two brothers after Regulus’ undertaking, but Sirius had always been very protective of him, even when things were complicated, so she could only imagine how enraged he must’ve been when he discovered he was bested by a woman he had never even seen.

“I think she’s called Pandora Lovegood,” Mary informed her. “She was rumored to be Regulus’ girlfriend, and people on the Internet started to make these crazy theories about the real reasons behind his escape, saying he did it for his ‘forbidden love’. They never confirmed anything, though, and he keeps bringing her as a guest during social events or parties…maybe you can ask him about it this Saturday.”

Narcissa was glad Mary couldn’t see her face, because she was really close to cackling: Regulus, the 12 year-old boy who had a full breakdown in her room because he didn’t want to kiss a girl on the cheek for a movie, with a girlfriend. Simply hilarious.

“I guess I could, yes,” she agreed, her sarcasm going unnoticed.

Her head was still on Mary’s shoulder, the silence between them stretching long but comfortable.

“Mary,” Narcissa called.

“Cissa,” Mary answered.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Narcissa didn’t really know why she asked, or where she wanted the conversation to go. Mary was extremely reserved about family matters, so-

“Yes, I do. I have two brothers, both younger. One is in middle school, the other a few years younger.” Mary’s tone was fond, and even if she was out of Narcissa’s sight, it wasn’t too hard to imagine a small smile on her lips.

“You never talk about them. You’re always working, either at the café or here…don’t they miss you when you’re not home?” Narcissa questioned, feeling bold.

“Oh, well, it’s not like I see them when I get home, since I’ve been living in a hotel for a while now,” Mary explained, sounding embarrassed.

Narcissa was not expecting that.

“You what? Since when?” she asked, startled, moving away from Mary to look at her in the eyes.

“I’ve wanted to leave that house for a while, so I saved some money with my part-time job,” Mary said, ”I moved about a month after signing the contract, when I was sure I could make it by myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Narcissa replied, distraught, putting a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I have asked you to come live with me!”

“No you haven’t?” Mary countered, confused and slightly alarmed by Narcissa’s fervor.

“You want me to come live with you?”

“We spend most of our time together already, I thought it was obvious?” Narcissa answered frantically.

Mary just laughed, uncontrolled and loud. Narcissa pouted.

“Fine, fine! I’ll come live with you, if you’re so desperate to have me around,” she smiled. “I’ll bring my stuff tomorrow, if I can manage. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, whatever.” Narcissa replied, still looking like a crossed child. They sat next to each other on the floor, letting the silence settle for a while. Mary was good at reading people, Narcissa had learnt. She always seemed to know when someone needed some quiet, or preferred to ramble, and adapted accordingly. Everchanging, constantly camouflaging to survive.

“Why did you ask?” Mary asked.

Narcissa sighed, because one, she was expecting that question, and two, she didn’t know, either.

“Sometimes I hate them. Sirius and Regulus, I mean,” Narcissa explained. “Sure, they fight, seem to hate each other, and their relationship isn’t perfect, but at least it’s there. For my sisters, we’re dead to each other.”

“Have you tried calling them?” Mary suggested, and it should’ve been a silly thing to ask, because of course Narcissa should have tried to call them, it was the most logical thing to do. But she hadn’t. Andromeda left when Narcissa was still controlled by their parents and didn’t try to contact her, not even after her escape. Bellatrix was still proudly part of the family, so Narcissa hadn’t even bothered trying.

“No,” Narcissa replied, defeated. “It’s useless, they went on with their lives. I keep up with the articles about Bellatrix, so I kind of know what’s going on, but Andromeda has completely disappeared. I wonder how she did that.”

And why she didn’t bring me with her.

“…Do you resent her?” Mary whispered, quietly. Narcissa turned to look at her.

“For leaving?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if I did resent her now it would be hypocritical, since I also ran away. But I used to, yes. Why? Are you worried your siblings might grow to hate you?“

Mary leant back, eyes travelling to the ceiling. Narcissa thought she looked so serious at times, with her gaze lost in thought and her lips clamped shut. Preoccupation made her look older.

“I’m not worried. When the time came, I told my parents it was time for me to enter the real world, that I had found an apartment out of town I could afford and that I was going to call them weekly,” Mary smiled bitterly, her eyes bright with tears Narcissa wasn’t going to address. “They didn’t bat an eye. One less mouth to feed, I guess. My youngest sibling, Theo, told me with tears in his eyes that he was going to miss me, while the oldest, Bingley, felt betrayed. He didn’t say it, but I could see it in his face.” Mary sighed, looking at Narcissa’s neck, where Bunny had slowly found her designated place.

“I know they will understand, if not now when they’re older, then. And if they do not understand, I’ll explain why I left myself.”

“…Why did you do it, though?” Narcissa asked, cautious.

“I did it because I deserve to be happy. Back there I wasn’t in pain, but I was miserable. And I couldn’t pretend like it didn’t affect me, so I packed my stuff and left for a place that allowed me to grow. And here I am,” Mary smiled at her, nudging her arm, making Bunny hiss in agreement.

Narcissa was having severe flashbacks of a conversation she never had, a scene in a parallel universe where her family was slightly less dysfunctional and talking felt a lot more natural. She refused to tear up.

“Why didn’t you ask your brothers to come with you?” She asked, or rather, sobbed. Fuck.

“Because it was risky,” Mary answered, seeming to understand that this conversation had more layers than just simple curiosity. “Although it wasn’t the best, my house offered stability, and I can’t support two more people on my own. When the time comes, they’ll be free to leave and come to me, but I’m not a mother, Cissa, and I don’t have to play the role for them.”

Shit, she was about to cry. Shit, shit, shit.

Did Andy feel like that? Did she also consider taking her sisters with her, when she had left that night?

When Narcissa ran away, three different types of illegal substances numbed most of her feelings, so she couldn’t really draw a comparison between their experiences.

“They won’t understand, Mary. You can’t expect them to.” She replied, managing to make her voice sound a lot firmer than it actually was.

“And that’s fine. I’ll explain when the time comes,” Mary replied, sounding so sure, so calm, so mature for a twenty two year-old.

Then she added, smirking, “Maybe I’ll start by calling them.”

Narcissa shoved her.

~

Lily had informed Alice that she and Mary would soon start working together, but since MacDonald was already quite busy with the release of her debut album, they weren’t going to start writing together for a few more weeks.

Alice was grateful for the delay: Lily was determined to work with Mary, and the girl seemed really close to Narcissa Black.

So, simply put, Alice’s (already trembling) emotional stability was really close to falling apart.

No one knew of their relationship back when they were at Hogwarts, and no one knew that relationship was actually something more than friendship. A something that apparently still meant everything to Alice, and nothing to Narcissa, since after ten years, the first was still unable to move on, and the second had completely erased the other from her life.

But Alice remembered. Oh, she remembered so well.

All her songs revolved around Narcissa in one way or the other: the memory of her, the feelings Alice had for her. Everything, for everyone to hear. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that a small part of her, the weakest, hoped Narcissa heard them, too.

Alice’s creative process wasn’t a journey through emotions or stories she wanted to explore or create, it was an eternal war that always took place on the same battlefield.

The school, the dorm, her lips.

The whispers, the fights, her kisses.

Was it possible for a poet to worship, despise, cherish and reject their own muse all at the same time?

Oh, how a juvenile mistake can change someone’s life. Because that’s was what it was to Alice, a mistake. It should’ve never happened, even if it felt too good to be true, even if it’s what led her to fame.

Even if it felt like love.

Luckily, the possibility of meeting Narcissa were low, even considering Lily’s new project. She was going to work with Mary, not Narcissa, so she was still safe, for now.

Speaking of this Mary, Alice was was looking forward to meeting her: Lily had been talking about her for days, about how fun she was, how talented she was, how she seemed to completely ignore all the rumours about her. So when Lily told her Mary was going to be present on Saturday, Alice was extremely excited.

The party at the Potter’s had already started, and even though the ‘small gathering’ already counted more than seventy people, Peter was still nowhere to be seen: James, Sirius and Marlene had gone to pick him up, so they were going to come back soon. Even Regulus, who was bringing Pandora, still hadn’t shown up, but Dorcas Meadowes was already deep in a conversation with Euphemia Potter and Mrs Zabini, probably discussing Zabini’s next spring collection. Lily was somewhere with Frank and Benji, probably ignoring the champagne glasses in the living room in favour of the vodka shots available in the kitchen.

Since Alice refused to get drunk so soon, she was left chatting with people she didn’t know too well about things she didn’t really care about, but honestly, she was enjoying it. She was just talking to Molly Weasley (neé Prewett) about the challenges and difficulties of growing pumpkins (Molly worked with her brothers in the film industry so what would she know about growing pumpkins, Alice had no clue) when the doorbell rang. She heard Lily stumbling in her heels from the kitchen calling “It’s her! It’s her!”, but since Alice was closer, she went to get it.

She opened the door, and Narcissa Black was on the other side.

She opened the door, and Narcissa Black was on the other side.

And she was beautiful. She looked more mature now, healthier, but her attitude was as confident as ever.

Posture impeccable just like that day they met, when Alice had walked into her future dorm room and had found this blonde girl made of steel and ice staring down at her like she was a stray dog.

Her eyes were bright like every time Alice pulled out a cigarette in front of her, wordlessly convincing her to skip classes and lay on the grass together.

Narcissa looked like beauty and regret.

As time stretched indefinitely, Lily caught up to Alice and leant on the door frame, looking at the girl standing next to Narcissa. Because Mary was there, too.

“Mary, hi! You look gorgeous!” Lily greeted the girl, who thanked her and smiled brightly.

Alice tried to say something to Mary, but she couldn’t get her eyes off Narcissa. Of course she couldn’t, she never managed to.

Then Narcissa did something mad, horrid, monstrous.

She offered Alice her hand and spoke.

“Alice. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Lily was now looking at Alice with faux surprise.

“You know each other?” she asked, innocently. Alice glared at her, because she knew Lily knew, and she knew Lily did it on purpose. Alice also instantly knew Marlene was part of this, too.

People these days, can’t even let you handle your problems unhealthily.

Then Narcissa spoke again, and of course Alice gave her her full attention, because she still reacted to her voice like a dog to whistle. Ten years later, still as pathetic as before.

“…You haven’t told them?”

Oh, she was offended. Now that made Alice’s blood boil.

“Ironic, that.” Narcissa added bitterly, letting her hand fall, untouched.

Alice felt her gaze harden, but kept her mouth shut. Instead, she did what she had learnt to do well in the past years when confronted with Narcissa Black: Alice turned on her heels, and walked away. She vaguely heard Lily taking her two guests to the living room to introduce them to Effie, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Turns out, it was just the right time to get drunk.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

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A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[jellys-compendium]

Eat Me

A Nanami Kento x F!Reader Vampire AU Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Vampire!Hunter Nanami Kento x Vampire F!Reader Summary: An aristocratic vampire working in the corporate world is a thing rarely seen, but you're determined to live the normal life you've always longed for. Once you escape your oppressive family, a friend recommends you reach out to the higher ups at JJK Inc., and before you know it, you find yourself settling into a new life. Everything is going smoothly once you settle into your new job; that is until you discover that your stern but outrageously handsome boss, Nanami Kento, knows all about your little secret. CW: smut, vampire au, human/vampire relationship, boss/employee relationship, forbidden love, mutual pining, vampire bites, blood drinking, grinding, dry humping, biting, finger sucking, nanami kento probably has a biting kink but you didn't hear it from me Word Count: 9.2K A/n: This is a rewrite of a previous fic that I posted in the past but have since deleted. Initially I had structured it as a multi-chapter work, however I want to explore some other AUs with Nanami so I decided to rework this into a standalone oneshot. Scenes have been expanded and added so I hope this feels like a fresh read to you all! <3

The putrid scent of burning flesh slams up Nanami Kento’s nose as he enters his target’s opulent office. It’s a familiar and deeply unpleasant smell, one that fosters bad memories and a nauseating churn in the pit of the hunter’s stomach.

Looks like someone beat him to the target.

Nanami’s nose scrunches against the offending aroma, briefly betraying his distaste before his trained gaze scans the spotless space around him. There are no signs of a struggle. Not a single table, chair, or speck of dust is out of place. Everything in this obnoxiously expensive office sits completely undisturbed, as if Nanami were the first person to enter it all week.

Cursing under his breath, Nanami removes his glasses. There is only one vampire hunter alive that is capable of such a feat, and Nanami has no desire to deal with his colleague's theatrical antics tonight.

Satisfied that there are no other uninvited guests in the shadows, Nanami pockets his shades in his breast pocket and journeys deeper into the darkened office. Like a hell hound he follows the scent of death. The soles of his shoes clack ominously against the polished floor with each step he takes, signaling his approach to his colleague.

Not that Gojo Satoru needed the warning.

The smell leads Nanami towards the massive windows that display the city’s beautiful skyline. The sight of the shimmering neon lights against the black backdrop of the night sky provides Nanami with the briefest of mental reprieves. Looking upon those lights, Nanami envisions with longing the night he could have had if he’d only not answered Masamichi’s call.

Enjoying the serene solitude of his apartment across town, sipping away at a glass of bourbon while he languidly worked away over his stove, experimenting with that risotto recipe that he’d seen while perusing a magazine easier that day. That would have been a night worth having. Not one where he had to think about corpses, monsters and death.

Rounding the ludicrously expensive desk that sits in the center of the room, Nanami’s honey brown gaze trails down to the floor, finally arriving at the scene he had expected to see. 

A mangled corpse in the process of burning from the inside out lays on the floor. Its eyes are wide with terror and its mouth is stretched open in an eerie, silent scream that would have sent shivers down Nanami’s spine had he not seen this exact same scenario hundreds of times before.

A vampire in the throes of death is a gruesome thing. The sight, sound, smell, and brutal agony of it all will always haunt him. But even though dispatching them is rotten work, Nanami understands that leaving them to their own devices is even more so. The gluttony of their kind when their thirst overcomes their senses is unparalleled. That and their lust for cruelty.

As Nanami silently watches the body burn, the red veins glowing disturbingly before the skin and bone turn to ash, he notes that the form remains perfect and pristine through its destruction. Its blood was uncorrupted. So it had been a noble after all.

Abruptly, a playful chuckle rings through the office and Nanami turns his attention to the source, his brown eyes meeting the inhuman blues of Gojo’s.

The playful hunter smiles.

“Looks like they haven’t all been wiped out.”

Nanami’s brows furrow, the muscles in his shoulders tensing instinctively. The creature truly never stood a chance. No one—human or inhuman—ever saw Gojo coming. They were dead before they even knew they were in danger. In fact, Gojo is so effective at his job that frankly Nanami almost feels sorry for the creatures they hunt. Almost. 

“Seems so.”

Gojo’s smile spreads wider across his handsome face. He steps forward, his unmistakable snow white hair illuminated by the glowing lights from the city below. The crunching sound of his boot as he steps over the ash is a perfect allegory for the world at Gojo Satoru’s feet. It truly is only a matter of time before he completely wipes them all out.

“Glad you could make it, Nanamin,” The man teases, his expression gleaming with satisfaction. “Our dusty little friend here told me the most interesting little rumor.”

Nanami’s expression sours, his hands curling into fists as he feels the tension in his body coil tighter. He knows exactly what Gojo’s next words are going to be.

“Another assignment?”

Without a word, Gojo reaches into his pocket and produces a cell phone. Nanami watches, silently annoyed as the man nonchalantly whistles a merry little tune as he opens the phone’s contents. After a few seconds of scrolling, Gojo turns the phone towards Nanami and shows him the target.

A woman. The picture had been snapped at a distance, capturing her in mid stride as she climbed out of the back of a Rolls-Royce Phantom.

Nanami reaches up and zooms in on the picture, his sharp eyes absorbing every detail. Every part of her is in pristine order. Her hair, her clothing, shoes, make-up and nails. Impeccable, immaculate, like a model who had just stepped fresh out of the pages of a magazine.

Everything about her screams untouchable luxury, prestige, and old money. Everything, except her eyes. They are…glassy and distant, as if the soul inside were somewhere else at the moment this picture was taken. 

That familiar state of forlorn disconnection, of going through the motions while dissociating from the world around you because that’s the only way you can survive…

A pang of sympathy hits Nanami square in the chest. He understands that feeling all too well.

“A vampire.” The hunter dryly surmises, glancing up at his coworker. “One of the nobles I take it?”

Gojo Satoru’s lips pull back into a spine chilling smile.

“Oh, far more interesting than that.”

The office is plunged into a foreboding silence as Gojo turns the phone in his hand. He types away for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket. Not a moment after, Nanami’s own phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and glances at the notification.

Gojo Satoru

Target’s image attached. Have fun Nanamin~ <3

“She’s royal.” (xxx)

21 months later

Groggy, your mind surfaces from the depths of sleep. One by one, you slowly feel your senses returning to you. 

The first thing that returns to you is touch. The feeling of the soft, warm fabric of your pillow and sheets forming a pleasant cocoon of warmth around you is one of the best things in the world.

The second sensation is scent. The smell of the cool, crisp morning air tickles the tip of your nose. It’s wet and fresh, meaning that it must have rained sometime in the night. 

The third sense that returns is sound. From your open bedroom window, you can hear the traffic and bustle of the city below start to swell, building into that buzzing morning rush crescendo that you’ve become so accustomed to in the last year.

To many, mornings like this are predictable and mundane, but to you it’s a little piece of heaven. This is your home, your space, and your time to yourself. No one else's. 

And sure, while there may be some days that may feel lonely, overall you are at peace, and that is invaluable to you. 

Living this quiet and mundane little life in this dingy yet cozy little apartment, there’s no one here to tell you what to do. No one to lord themselves over you, or tell you what to think and say. No one to tell you what to wear, who to talk to, and who to shun. No one to sneer at you should you prove a disappointment. 

Here, you’re allowed to be your true self. You can finally breathe, grow, and rest.

Rest.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets, you plan to do just that. However, something in the back of your mind compels you to open your eyes. You usually wake up a few minutes before your alarm clock, but it feels a little later than usual doesn’t it?

Heaving a sleepy groan, your eyes flutter open, only to shut so that you can rub away the blurry fuzz that clouds your vision. Once satisfied, your eyes squint open again and focus on the glowing red numbers on your alarm clock. It takes a second, but the moment you’re able to process the numbers 8:43 AM, panic immediately floods your every nerve.

“Oh shit!” You shriek as you jolt awake. “No, no, no, no!”

You’re going to be late on the one day you can’t be late. Oh god, you’re going to get an earful from your boss.

Like a speeding bullet, you make a mad scramble for your bathroom, turning on the hot water taps for both your sink and shower all while cursing yourself out.

God, you can’t believe that you slept past your alarm! This is so unlike you, you’ve never slept through your alarm like that. Well…not on an important work day like today that is. It was so unusual, even if you had been sleeping more heavily, the blaring sound of that heinous clock had always gotten you out of bed on the dot before.

Racking your dozy brain for answers, you fiercely stick your toothpaste coated toothbrush into your mouth and hop under the hot spray of the shower. It isn’t until you’re half way done lathering yourself with soap that it hits you. 

You had consumed your last blood pack yesterday morning, and had been so swamped with completing your proposal at work that you had completely forgotten to contact your supplier and restock on your way home last night.

Doing the math in your head, you quickly realize that it has been well over 24 hours since you’d last fed—the longest time you’d gone without blood, and it’s safe to say that your body is already cashing in on the grueling consequences. 

Lethargy and brain fog are your main symptoms, but there’s also that gnawing little sensation of hunger that sits at the pit of your stomach. Occasionally, the sensation bloats, crawling up your spine to tease at the base of your brainstem, coyly stimulating that little feral part of your brain.

Luckily, these are all symptoms that you can manage for the time being. You don’t have any time to stop by your supplier before work, so you’ll just have to hold out until the day is done.

The next five minutes are a blur of toweling, styling, moisturizing and make up—all done poorly but done nonetheless. You tie up your wet hair as best as you can before dashing back to your bedroom. It takes only two additional minutes for you to get dressed in your business attire and out the door, and only another three to make it out of your building and into the nearest cab. 

“JJK Inc, please!”

The driver nods, and you look down to check your watch only to realize that you’ve forgotten it on your nightstand. Cursing under your breath, you reach into your briefcase and pull out your phone, thankful that you didn’t forget that too. 8:58AM. You have exactly two minutes to get to work and you know that this drive takes at least twelve.  

Reaching for your purse, you pull out a couple of the biggest bills you have, and towards the driver’s seat.

“Excuse me mister, I’m in a really big hurry today. Could you please go a little faster than usual? I’ll pay you triple for your trouble.”

The grizzled cab driver makes eye contact with you through his rear view mirror, then his gaze falls to the money in your hand.

“You're bribing me to break the law, ma’am?”

A sheepish little smile spreads across your lips and you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. If you had just gotten your ass out of bed at the right time, you wouldn’t even be in this situation. 

“Um…well only a little.”

The cab driver snorts and his dry chuckle fills the cabin.

“Unless you’re willing to pay me my year’s salary, we’re getting there in twelve minutes.”

Begrudgingly, you accept that you are now at the complete mercy of the city’s brutal traffic. Your heavy sigh of defeat answers the cab driver well enough, and he turns his attention back to the road while you sag against the back seat. 

That’s it, you’re going to be late for the monthly department meeting. The meeting in which you are scheduled to present your financial proposal for the company’s next fiscal year. You’ve been working so hard on it for the last four months. Way to foster a sense of competence and reliability. Instead you are going to show up ten minutes late, looking like you’d just had a run in with an angry grandmother armed with an umbrella. 

Your eyes land on the phone in your hand. 8:59 AM. Your mouth instantly becomes dry and your panic flares.

You have to text your boss and let him know that you’ll be late for the meeting. Although, truth be told, you'd much rather jump out of the cab and let the oncoming traffic put you out of your misery. 

But despite your shame, you know it’s the right thing to do. Especially since your boss has supported you so diligently throughout the entire year. Staying late nights at the office with you to help crunch data, patiently answering all your questions and never sparing you details that others may think are “over your head”. He never undermines or insults you when you don't understand something and he has proved time and time again to have faith in your competence. 

He may be stern and generally unapproachable, but the subtle emotional support Nanami Kento has given since the first day you walked into JJK Inc means the absolute world to you. 

And…you can't help but feel completely downtrodden at the very idea of letting him down. You’ve actually come to like him. 

A lot. 

…

Maybe a little too much, actually.

You heave out another sigh, hands falling limp on your lap.

Just stop being such a coward. Just call him. He’s not going to fire you over something so miniscule, right?

The cab is suddenly filled with an instrumental little jingle, and your phone begins to buzz in your hand. The sound snaps you out of your thoughts, calling your attention to your device. Your heart nearly stops when you see the name flashing on the display.

Mr. Nanami Kento.

Oh shit.

You’re frozen, suspended in momentary panic as you watch those haunting letters light up with each vibration. Should you let it go to voicemail? What’s worse, getting chewed out now or later? After about half a second of contemplation, you realize that letting the call go to voicemail would only serve to land you in the hottest seat in the house. 

So with trembling fingers, you swipe right on your green call button and bring the phone to your ear.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Our department meeting has started. Where are you?”

Straight to the point, like always.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you resist the urge to twist the fabric of your pencil skirt between your fingers. It’s not even lunchtime yet and your day has gone terribly so far, like you want to add to it by showing up in wrinkled clothes.

“I’m so sorry sir,” You lick your lips, your tongue like sandpaper. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

A pause of silence on both your ends serves to add kindle to your blazing nerves, but you wait patiently for your boss to respond. After a few more beats of silence, Nanami speaks. His tone is low and soft, like he’s pulling you aside for a private little word in a large gathering of people.

“This is unusual for you. Is everything alright?”

A tingling shiver runs down your spine, the rhythm of your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his low and concerned drawl. God, it should be illegal for someone to sound that good—that sensual.

He’s your boss.

So what if he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen? So what if butterflies swarm and swell in your stomach everytime you think about him? So what if his face is the one on your mind when you slowly glide your fingers between your thighs in the dead of night? 

It would never work out between the two of you, despite your fantasies to the contrary. Nanami Kento is a human and you are a vampire. Your life spans are different, your lifestyles are different, and you’d be damned if you dragged a good man like him into the complicated shit storm that is your personal life. 

A soft call of your name gently coaxes you to the surface of your thoughts. Nanami pauses again, but his silent urge for you to proceed is palpable. So you close your eyes, inhale a deep breath, and lie.

“I’m alright sir, thank you for your concern. I just mistakenly slept through my alarm, that’s all. I’ll make my way straight up to the boardroom once I arrive.”

Another beat of silence, then a deep, affirmative hum.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

And the call disconnects.

(xxx)

In spite of your tardiness, the department meeting had gone off without a hitch. In fact, upon your arrival you were elated to discover that not only had a seat been left open for you, but sitting on the table right in front of it was a steaming hot cup of coffee and a singular pain au chocolat wrapped delicately in a brown napkin.

You had nearly cried at the sweetness of the gesture, but managed to hold it together as you took your seat. Once situated, you looked at your coworker, Akari Nitta, and mouthed a ‘thank you’. To your shock, Nitta had then responded with an unsubtle shake of her head and then an even more unsubtle glance towards your boss who stood at the head of the table. 

Your eyes widened, and impulsively your gaze flew towards Nanami Kento. He paused in the middle of his debrief, a single blonde brow rising at your reaction to his gesture. 

Realizing that you were causing a scene, you immediately sunk into your chair and whispered a quiet apology as your face blazed hot. You got out your laptop and focused with all your might on your proposal and its presentation to the department. Fortunately, the presentation went well, garnering you lots of praise from your coworkers, and even a nod of approval from Mr. Nanami himself. 

Now you sit at your desk, feeling simultaneously relieved but also like you’re going to jump out of your skin. The stress from the meeting and the presentation of your proposal have long since passed, however in its place another problem has reared its ugly head. It pokes at your every nerve and buries its claws into your sanity itself.

Hungry…

Eyeing the clock every few seconds, you’re desperately willing for it to go faster. Your hunger for blood has grown exponentially since the morning started—so much so that even your coworkers are beginning to look delicious. Especially one man in particular…

It’s okay. Just make it to lunch, then get a rare steak from the restaurant downstairs and that should appease you until the end of the day.

And yet as each agonizing second ticks by, your hunger only grows and grows, and it’s not long before you start to feel weak and a little bit dizzy.

If you aren’t careful, it won’t take much to trigger a nip at someone’s neck. And given the sexual (and unfortunately sometimes violent) connotations of the act of feeding, you’d really like to avoid that if at all possible. You never want to be in one of those unfortunate situations where a vampire has denied their hunger for too long and sadly ended up attacking a human.

Luckily, you aren’t in dire straits yet as the process of descending into that blood lust-fueled madness takes several days. Still, that doesn’t mean that you’re comfortable and willing to suffer the side effects.

Your eyes once again look at the clock on your laptop’s screen. 11:46AM. Close enough.

Quietly, you put your computer to sleep and stretch, groaning with pleasure under your breath as your tight muscles tense and then relax. 

In a few quick movements, you collect your coat and purse and start to make your way down the hall of cubicles. Once you reach the cubicles of your friends, Nitta and Ijichi, you poke your head in and whisper.

“I’m heading out for lunch, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Ijichi raises an eyebrow, and both he and Nitta exchange a quizzical glance.

“What?” You ask.

“Did you forget? Mr. Nanami is going to take us all out for lunch today.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“He…he is?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Nitta sighs, tossing the document in her hands onto her desk. “Mr. Nanami announced it at the end of our meeting this morning. He said that he wants to treat us to lunch for all of our hard work. Well, all of your hard work.”

“Ours,” You correct firmly. “I wouldn’t have managed it without everyone’s help.”

“Oh, so modest.” Nitta teases. “No wonder you’re Mr. Nanami’s favorite.” 

You roll your eyes. Seriously? Of all the days to—

“I’m not his favorite. Mr. Nanami acknowledges anyone who's done a good job.”

Nitta and Ijichi exchange knowing glances with one another before turning their attention back to you.

“Sure.” They reply in unison, waving your words away like smoke.

Irritated, you decide to end the conversation and continue to make your way down the hall of cubicles and towards the elevator.

“Hey!” You hear Nitta call. “What about lunch? Aren’t you going to join us?”

Not if you can help it. You want to eat lunch alone since being known as the office lady who enjoys eating borderline raw meat isn’t exactly the reputation you’d like to garner for yourself. Plus, having a moment away from the office to clear your head will do you good. 

“Are you declining to join us for lunch?”

Your body jolts at the sound of that familiar, deep voice. Turning around, of course you see none other than Nanami Kento standing a few steps away from you. He approaches you, the differences in your height becoming alarmingly apparent as gets closer. 

And despite the fact that you’ve seen hundreds of handsome men come and go throughout your multiple lifespans, for the briefest of moments you can’t help but feel a little awestruck.

Nanami is so tall compared to you—not to mention built like a bulldozer. Armed with his steely demeanor, freshly pressed suit, polished shoes, perfectly styled hair and the smell of that aftershave that is to die for, you can say with full confidence that there are few men who can hold a candle to Nanami Kento. 

Nanami’s presence has always been nothing short of imposing. No matter which corporate hot shot from the other departments stormed into his office, he would always put them back in their place. In fact, it’s a common sight to watch them scurry down the hidden path of shame between the cubicles, their tail between their legs after they had a meeting with your boss.

“Well?” The soft, honey brown color of Nanami’s eyes does little to counteract the sternness of his expression. He leans in closer, covering you in his shadow. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin as you stifle the lascivious tremor that courses through you.

“Do you have some other previous engagement that you neglected to share?”

As you lock your gaze with Nanami’s, you suffer the briefest moment of weakness. 

You wish you could confide in him who you really are and what you’re going through. You’d give anything to have just one person know the real you. Not the confined and sheltered vampire you used to be, nor the workaholic vampire pretending to be human. Just you. And maybe someone like Nanami would be able to handle it, but you can’t take that risk.

“Um…no. I’m not declining.” You reply. “I’m just uh–really hungry.”

Nanami studies you silently for a moment. The weight of his gaze, taxing and on your already frazzled nerves. He sees more than what he lets on, you’re sure of it. But right as you’re about to squirm under his scrutiny he breaks his stare, then checks his watch before turning towards Nitta and Ijichi.

“Since your colleague seems to be eager to go, let’s make it an early lunch today. I’ll meet you all at the restaurant in ten minutes.”

Then, the three of you silently watch him as he disappears into his office.

Following Nanami’s orders, you wait for Nitta and Ijichi as they pack up and then join you in the journey to the elevator. You are absolutely exhausted, but Nitta looks totally ecstatic. Ijichi, as per usual,follows behind in silence. 

“Lunch on the boss!” Nitta exclaims. “That means we can get anything we want, right?”

“I don’t think that’s very good manners, Miss Nitta.” Ijichi advises as he hits the call button. “Mr. Nanami is already being generous enough as it is.”

“Awww,” Nitta pouts. “You’re no fun, Ijichi.”

Nitta looks at you, her friendly smile widening.

“What do you think? We should indulge ourselves today, don’t you think?”

You shake your head.

“I think Ijichi is right, we shouldn’t take advantage of him. Even if he can afford it.”

Nitta scrunches her nose and crosses her arms with a half-hearted huff. 

“Oh all right. It was mostly a joke anyway.”

(xxx)

The sky has long since darkened, the only thing illuminating the horizon now is the glowing moon and pink and blue neon lights from the city. 

You had said goodbye to your coworkers as they trickled out of the office hours ago, wishing that you could have joined them. But your proposal needs finalizing and Nanami’s final seal of approval before you can call it a day. He gave you until 10:00PM tonight to finish it. 

A tired groan escapes your lips as you focus on easing the tension in your shoulders. You give your eyes a break from staring at the screen as you reach your arms up for a good stretch. As you move, you glance at the empty cubicles around you. Admittedly, it’s strange and a little spooky being the only one in the office at night, but luckily you aren’t alone. Nanami is holed up in his office at the end of the hall and he has made it clear that you are welcome to come and find him if you need anything.

Letting your arms fall back down after that long stretch, you reach for the steaming mug sitting by your computer and bring it to your lips for a sip. The remainder of the tension in your body eases as the comforting scent of peppermint wafts up your nose.

It’s so liberating being out on your own and away from the pressures of your family. While you hold no hatred in your heart for them, being at the mercy of their tyrannical sheltering in combination with all the stifling traditions, gaslighting, and the social pressure that came with being a member of the royal family, was a torture that you are grateful to no longer endure. 

In that place, you were nothing more than an ornament— a possession. All you amounted to in their eyes was something pretty to perch on a pedestal and look at. Back there you had no right to your own words, or thoughts, or feelings, or even to your own body.

Then that one fateful night the incident occurred and you finally reached your breaking point. You ran away, smuggling yourself out of your family’s compound and into the big, wide outside world you’ve only ever seen from a distance. 

Admittedly, it had been very difficult in the beginning since your sheltered past had left you with little survival skills, but thanks to the friendships you had developed and the stability offered by your work, you found yourself thriving within half a year’s time.

Gazing out of one of the office windows, you admire the beautiful glowing moon. The callous words of the people you once called “family” resurface in your mind.

“The world is dangerous. Those humans and the other vampires are savages. They’ll eat us alive.”

“Careful. Don’t want to misbehave now do we? It would be terrible if the hunters got a whisper of your whereabouts.”

“There’s no way someone like you could survive on their own.”

They couldn’t have been more wrong. And you’re so proud of yourself for being able to prove that each and every day. You were born a royal to the vampire world and a monster to the human one, but you are the master of your own mind, body and soul. No one has the right to tell you who you are.

A sudden growling sound interrupts your contemplation. Startled, you look down as your stomach tightens and twists painfully, immediately alerting you to the culprit.

The hunger is creeping back with a vengeance. The time you bought is running out.

Luckily, the lunch you’d ordered did the trick in satiating your appetite throughout the afternoon. 

Unfortunately though, you now have to carry the lifelong joy of replaying the scene of your very confused and concerned coworkers asking you if you were okay after you had ordered an “exceptionally rare” blue steak with a straight face. 

God, the complete silence that had fallen over the table as the waiter brought out the practically bleeding slab of meat and placed it in front of you had been mortifying. It ended up stalling your appetite and—you imagined—the appetites of your coworkers.

As the silence persisted, you remember practically feeling the secret glances your colleagues sent towards you and to one another. Your cheeks had grown hot, and your mouth as dry as a desert as both embarrassment and anxiety sat heavy in the pit of your stomach. Flustered, you felt compelled to apologize and make up some kind of excuse.

“Sorry. I ah…grew up on a beef farm and it wasn’t unusual for us to eat meat like this.”

But then, your boss speaks up and effectively breaks the tense atmosphere with a single statement.

“There is no need for you to apologize or explain your preferences.”

And that had been the end of it.

Gently placing your mug of tea back down, you make quick work of replacing your smudged lipstick before leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. Of course, the first and only thing your fevered mind conjures is him.

You wish that your thoughts could stay in the realm of innocent admiration, but as your hunger grows and your brain juggles the phenomenon that is Nanami Kento, all your thoughts go straight to the gutter. A sweet lick of heat pulses between your legs and you clench your thighs, groaning quietly in your attempts to stifle it.

You want Nanami Kento. You’ve always wanted him. You have tried so hard to keep your feelings and lewd fantasies under control, but like opening Pandora’s box, your hunger has revealed the truth of your longing.

The way that man sternly commands a room. How he simultaneously supports and takes responsibility for those around him, how caring he can be despite the subtlety of his emotions. All of these are the qualities that have drawn you to him. 

But that being said, Nanami’s physical qualities are nothing to scoff at either. The way that man rolls up his sleeves while he’s hard at work, or how his strong brows furrow when he’s faced with a particularly complex situation. The large breadth of his hands and shoulders, the smell of his aftershave and skin, how unbelievably mouth-watering he looks in those form fitting dress shirts with that perfect blonde hair just slightly tousled…

The roar of your hunger intensifies, and you can feel your fangs throb and start to emerge.

Oh no.

You inhale deeply, fingers digging into the seat of your chair. You lick your teeth in a foolhardy attempt to help yourself settle down. But the fire in your body sparks and burns brighter, your lust for blood and a certain CFO flaring with a vengeance. Your body is punishing you for daring to distract it with some cheap imitation, especially when the person that you truly want to sink your teeth into is just down the hall.

Ignoring the dampness between your legs, you take a series of long deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. Then, once you manage to get that burning lust to taper, you exhale a sigh, place your fingers on the keyboard, and force yourself to ignore their trembling. 

You are going to finalize this proposal. 

You are going to email it to your boss.

You are going to review it with him and finally put this project to rest.

Then you are going to climb into his lap and wrap your arms around him before latching onto that delicious notch between his neck and shoulder and…

Stop it.

You give your head a furious shake and force yourself to focus on the numbers on the screen. You are going to be done by 10:00 PM, come heaven or high water.

True to your promise to yourself, you work furiously into the night, but by 9:40 PM your blood withdrawal symptoms return with full force. The trembling in your hands has spread to the rest of your body making it significantly harder for you to focus. You're starting to sweat down your back and between your breasts and your heart’s rhythm quickens as the sweet ache in your sex only grows.

Intrusive flashes of your lewd, late night fantasies of Nanami play in your mind on repeat and the feeling of your elongating teeth scratching against your lower lip makes your actions all the hastier.

Almost there… 

Through sheer force of will, you finish the last portion of your proposal ten minutes before your personal deadline. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly send Nanami an email, letting him know that it’s ready and that you’ll make your way to his office to discuss it. Only one nail biting minute goes by before he sends his reply. 

“I have time now.”

You’ve never been more thankful for Nanami’s punctuality and curtness. Closing your laptop, you stand up and immediately your body sways. You grab the desk, steadying yourself as you’re suddenly demobilized by the onset of a pounding headache that swallows all sound and blurs your vision. 

Shit, you’re going to pass out.

Tightening your grip, you try to focus on your breathing.

It’s okay. You’re okay. Just go in there and finish this. Then you can contact your supplier, go home and pass out.

You hold on to your desk for dear life and wait for your hearing and vision to return. Once they do, you thank all your lucky stars.

Knowing you don’t have a lot of time left, you grab your laptop and immediately make your way towards Nanami’s office. Your knees tremble with each step you take and you grip your laptop close to your chest for fear of dropping it.

Almost done. Just a little more.

You knock once you reach Nanami’s office.

“Come in.”

Clenching your hand around the doorknob, you take a deep breath to help steady yourself before opening the door and stepping inside. 

The office is warm, almost cozy with its dimly lit atmosphere. With the exception of a singular lamp that sits on the far left of his desk, Nanami’s computer screen is the only other source of illumination in the room.

Nanami’s office is quite tasteful, with the exception of a few decorative items it’s filled with only the essentials that the man needs to do his job. Nanami himself sits at his desk, his brows furrowed as he pours over the documents on his desk.

Despite your sorry state, you can’t help but steal another moment to admire him. 

God, he really is breathtaking, the dim light betraying you by slyly highlighting his best features. Combed blonde hair that beckons your fingertips, rolled up sleeves revealing the powerful, veiny arms beneath, his sharp brown eyes that never miss a detail, and those strong and chiseled features of his, Nanami makes you weak in the knees every time. 

Standing silently at the door’s threshold, you wait for Nanami’s tired eyes to look up. Once his gaze meets yours, he exhales a heavy sigh. Your tongue swipes along the throbbing tips of your fangs as you watch him lean back in his hair, all raw masculinity and tempered power as he removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.

“Let’s have a look at it then.” 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you make your way deeper into his office, fingers clenching around your laptop as you pray for your legs not to give out. 

The moment you reach Nanami’s desk, his warm and tantalizing scent hits you like a freight train. You can practically feel the steady beat of his heart on your tongue. The painfully throbbing ache in your fangs increases as your vision blurs again for another brief second.

Calling upon the strength of your willpower once more, you manage to suppress the raging hunger inside you for just a little longer. Your lips press into a thin worried line and without a word, you place your laptop on Nanami’s desk, turn it to face him, and open it to show him your finalized proposal.

But Nanami’s attention is focused squarely on you. Those brown eyes of his feel like they are slowly taking you apart and then putting you back together again. Maddeningly. Piece by piece.

You’re on the verge of screaming, or bolting out of his office by the time your boss glances at the screen you’d presented to him.

The wait is torture. You have to resist the urge to chew your lip, hiding your trembling fingers behind your back in a desperate attempt to conceal your distress. It feels like an eternity before Nanami’s attention finally returns to you. He pins you again with that intense stare of his, holding you captive like a wriggling insect caught in a spider’s web.

Then, Nanami breaks the silence and you are surprised to see both that intense stare and the harshness of his tone soften. 

“You’re unwell.”

A statement, not a question. Nanami’s words are enough to freeze the words in your throat. He saw right through you. Of course, he did. 

Desperately trying to save face, you scramble for the words to deflect Nanami’s astute observation.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Wow. Phenomenal.

Nanami sighs, his heavy hand reaching up to gently close your laptop. Your eyes linger for a second too long on his thick fingers before your body stiffens at the thought of being caught. 

The sound of a chair sliding against the floor makes your heart jump. Your breath stalls as Nanami stands up from his seat and circles the desk towards you. He stops his advance when your bodies are only mere inches apart. 

Then he leans down and whispers,

“Don’t lie to me.”

Instantly, your senses come alive. You feel your fangs extend fully in your mouth as your eyes latch hungrily onto Nanami’s throat. His intoxicating scent, the thick muscle of his body, and the pulsing veins beneath his skin all have your mouth practically watering. 

“You’re unwell.” Nanami continues. “In fact, you’ve been unwell since yesterday.”

Nanami hit the nail on the head. There’s no point in keeping secrets anymore. Twisting your fingers behind your back, you have no choice but to answer him.

“I uh—”

You pause and study Nanami’s expression. 

He’s patiently waiting, his gaze unwavering from yours. It’s firm and solid, but beneath that stoic professionalism you can see a flicker of warmth and understanding. And even though you are currently in the hot seat—panicked and on the edge of being exposed—you also feel strangely at ease.

“I’m anemic so uh…just feeling a little faint. It runs in my family.”

Nanami’s expression shifts into one of undisguised doubt. 

“Anemia. That’s what’s left you in this state?”

You slowly nod. Your tongue darts out in an attempt to moisten your lips before carrying on with your explanation.

“It’s not that bad, really. I’m just tired and a little dizzy. I’ll be able to finish up this proposal and then I’ll go h—.”

And then in an ultimate gesture of betrayal, your body starts to sway again. Your pounding head begins to feel light, sounds disappearing once more as your vision blurs and then goes completely black.

Fortunately, in the midst of all this you still have enough of your wits to make a grab for Nanami’s desk and steady yourself. 

Unfortunately however, you end up missing the desk entirely and instead are sent plummeting into the awaiting arms of gravity. Or at least, you would have been, had Nanami Kento not used his own arms to scoop you up and keep you from falling.

The feeling of Nanami’s arms around you is enough to bring you back. Your vision returns and your entire body freezes as alarm bells go off in your head. You’re reaching your limit. 

The heat of Nanami’s body radiates through yours, turning the blaze inside you into a raging inferno and reigniting the sweet ache in your core. Your fangs throb and your sex pulses as your arousal pools in that private little space between your thighs.

God, you want him. You want to taste him and fuck him so badly you feel like you’re going to go insane.

“You’re not fine,” Nanami’s tone is low, almost sensual. “You’re on the verge of passing out.”

“N–no, I’m—”

Nanami cradles you closer, shouldering the entirety of your body weight as he holds you steady against him. He guides your body towards his desk, leveraging you against it before securely wrapping his grip around your waist. Your head falls on his shoulder. Exhausted, you surrender everything.

“I–I’m sorry.” You whisper, fingers tightening around his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself against the rabid haze that’s taking over every last lick of sense you possess.

Fuck, he smells so good.

Then without a word of warning, Nanami abruptly picks you up and sits you on his desk. Your pencil skirt naturally rides up your thighs as he slots himself between your knees.

The next words that fall from Nanami Kento’s lips change your life forever.

“Eat me.”

Both your heart and breath stop for what feels like an eternity. Your eyes widen as your mind struggles to process the meaning of Nanami’s words. Eat him? What does he mean by that? Surely he can’t be talking about…

“W-what?”

Nanami leans in closer.

“You need blood and I have an abundant supply.”

Panic, hot and sharp, stabs right through your chest. 

Holy shit. He knows. 

You had taken so many painstaking precautions to conceal your true identity and had done everything in your power to make sure that your secret was kept safe. How did Nanami Kento discover it? Had you slipped up at some point? Or had you been outed by a member of your family? 

The venomous words of your father, the ones that he always used to threaten you with, ring like a gong in your head.

“Careful. Don’t want to misbehave now do we? It would be terrible if the hunters got a whisper of your whereabouts.”

It all snaps into place.

Breathless and freshly teary eyed, you look up at your boss.

“You’re a hunter.”

Nanami’s jaw clenches, hard bone grinding beneath tight skin. Then finally, he nods.

“I am.”

You do your best to try and make a break for it, wriggling to the best of your ability out of Nanami’s hold. But the man’s grip is like iron and your body is too weak. All you manage to do in the midst of your trepidation is dishevel your clothing and bring your body closer to his.

Nanami silently holds you captive, his expression betraying nothing as he watches the rebellious little fire inside you snuff out, surrendering to the merciless gale of your starved exhaustion.

Only when your body stills does he speak again.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. I will never harm you.”

Frustrated and distraught tears roll down your cheeks, your fingers grip and twist the pristinely pressed dress shirt covering Nanami’s chest. More lies. For once in your life won’t someone just tell you the truth? 

“Stop lying to me. You’re a hunter. Killing vampires is what you hunters do, right?”

Nanami pauses, his lips thinning as he contemplates his answer.

“Yes.” He finally admits.

Your heart sinks, despair tightening your chest as the realization dawns on you that perhaps all the kindness and support that Nanami had shown you throughout your time at JJK Inc had been part of an elaborate ruse. Easing you into some false sense of security before finding the perfect moment to take you out.

And as you look at him, tightly cradled in his grasp and unable to escape, you wish that you could be anywhere else right now.

“If you’re going to kill me just do it already.”

 A tired sigh falls from your boss's lips, his left hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. You follow the motion, gaze lingering on the plains of his handsome face. The bags under his eyes are a bit more prominent than usual.

“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right,” You sniff, voice frail and taunt as you fight back against your tears. Nanami Kento is the last person on earth you want to see you cry.  

“So said everyone else.”

The weight of Nanami’s grip leaves your side, and when you feel both of his hands gently cup the sides of your face, you practically melt. Nanami’s hands are warm and comforting and they soothe away your fear and despair. He regards you gently, smoothing his thumbs along the soft edge of your cheekbones—wiping away your tears.

“I’m not just anyone.”

Nanami releases you and you watch, spellbound, as his fingers reach for that signature leopard print tie. Your eyes widen and your heart pounds, the beat roaring in your ears as he loosens the flimsy article of clothing with a single elegant movement.

“Now,” His words are stern, deep. Undeniable in their finality. 

“Eat.”

As Nanami loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt, your eyes immediately land on the thick column of his throat.

“You—” Another swallow as the saliva in your mouth begins to flow and pool. “You don’t know what you’re offering…”

“I know perfectly well what I’m offering. Take it.”

Your body grows hot to the touch—near feverish as your arousal reignites. Your grip tightens, grasping at his shirt as you desperately resist the animalistic urge to just sink your teeth into Nanami’s thick flesh without a drop of restraint.

“Mr. Nanami…”

His hand reaches up again and he cups your chin, thumb gently tracing along your slack bottom lip, smudging the lipstick you’d replaced just an hour before. You shudder as his thumb precariously brushes against one of your exposed fangs.

“I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve never drank blood from another person before.” You confess in a hushed whisper. “The rules around feeding where I come from are very strict and the act itself can be very…intimate.” 

Nanami’s hand glides to the back of your head then down to your neck. His touch is electric–addicting–like a hit of pure ecstasy.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed with me.”

You shyly lick your teeth and avert your gaze to the glowing doorway. You’re stalling and he knows it.

Nanami leans down, the feeling of his warm breath caressing the side of your face as you teeter on the edge of unchained desire.

“Go ahead.” Nanami coaxes. “Eat.”

And with no more words, you arch your body upwards, open your mouth, and then sink your teeth into your boss’ neck. Nanami grunts, and the moment his blood touches your tongue every inch of you sings.

Nanami’s taste is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s rich and warm, powerful and potent. Like a spiced wine only served to those with the most expensive palates. And as his blood flows your mouth it invigorates you with a heat that is as searing and as all consuming as that of the sun.

A lewd moan bubbles in your throat as you instinctively draw him closer, lips latching and sucking hungrily against his neck. Nanami responds with a moan of his own as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and pressing the entirety of your body against his.

You cradle him between your soft thighs, hands reaching under his arms and around to his back so that your fingers can dig into the delicious muscle they find there. 

Nanami’s heart pounds against your tongue, feeding you all the more as you deliberately press the swell of your breasts against him. The sweet softness of your panty covered pussy is next, and you’re so love drunk, so caught up in the moment that you don’t even think twice about rubbing yourself against the growing tent in his pants.

Nanami's deep groan in response to your actions makes your pussy clench. He leans forward, pushing you down until your back hits the polished mahogany desk he’d perched you on. His heavy hands slam against the wood as he climbs on top, steadying himself against the shuddering waves of bliss that tear through him.

Perhaps you’re taking a little too much…

With a pleased sigh, you release Nanami’s throat, kissing the little red wounds you’d left there before trying to pull away. But Nanami’s hand slips under your head, cupping the back of it and ushering you back to that bite mark.

“Keep going,” His voice is low and raw, rumbling like a thunderstorm on the horizon, on the verge of losing his restraint.

“Don’t stop until you’re full, darling.”

That sweet and genuine term of affection nearly knocks the air out of your lungs, and you can’t help but whimper wantingly. You’ve never wanted anyone like this before. 

Staring into his eyes, your hands wrap around Nanami’s body again. Your fingers sink back into their rightful place along the muscles of his back before you tilt your mouth back up towards his neck.

Then, greedily, you sink your teeth back into Nanami’s flesh.

“That’s it.” He praises, lips pressing comfortingly against your temple. “Good girl. Take what you need.”

An intoxicating cocktail of love and lust roars inside of you, intensifying with each swallow. You’ve had your fair share of selfish lovers and cold sheets, but never anything like this…never something so hot and wild and that felt so fucking right.

Another wave of intoxicating ardor sizzles along your skin and your body responds by arching against him, rubbing yourself lewdly against his hard cock.

Nanami growls, the deep sound curling your toes as the hands he had rested by your head curl tightly into fists.

“Touch me.” You plead, licking a wicked stipe up his throat.

Cursing under his breath, Nanami pushes your skirt up to your waist, exposing your soaked cotton panties. His hands find your hips, tightening in a vice grip as he angles you just right before beginning to rut his clothed length against your pussy.

You lick the bruised bite mark on Nanami’s neck in apology before laying back down on the desk, arching and moaning as you’re overcome by the hot friction between your bodies. 

You’re dizzy, blissed out and utterly intoxicated as you grind your sex against his. The hurried rustle of fabric and the stifled moans from both of your lips rises like the sweetest music.

Nanami’s eyes meet yours, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his hands travel up your waist. Abruptly, he pulls you down, forcing your sensitive pussy harder against his throbbing cock. You can practically feel him pulse between your folds.

Crying out, you grasp onto Nanami as he hikes up your leg over his shoulder, exposing you further before surrendering the weight of his massive body onto your smaller one. Pinning you deliciously on that desk and grinding against you with animalistic fervor, he makes you feel breathless and trapped, but oh so far from helpless.

“M–Mr. Nanami…p-please, don’t stop.”

“Not until you come,” Nanami promises, licking his bottom lip before popping his thumb into your wet mouth.

Moaning, you instinctively bite into the fleshy pad. When you catch a glimpse of Nanami’s jaw clenching, his eyes glued to the seductive glimmer of your fangs biting deliciously into his flesh, you nearly come then and there. 

“Harder,” Nanami commands, snapping his hips against you and hitting your swollen clit with the head of his cock just right. 

Mewling with pleasure, you sink your fangs into his thumb and Nanami shudders. The pleasured purr that leaves him is one of the most erotic things you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Good girl.”

He thrusts against you harder now and your combined moans harmonize as the two of you lose yourselves. The hot coil in your stomach tightens as you roll your hips, grinding against Nanami desperately while spreading your legs wider to accommodate his size. 

“Suck,” Nanami groans. “Suck on me as you come.”

Eagerly, you suck his thumb into your mouth, eyes drooping with euphoria as the taste of his blood couples with the force of your oncoming orgasm.

“N–Nanami,” You whimper sloppily–pathetically—around his finger, drool falling from the side of your mouth. 

“C–coming–I’m going to come—ah!!!”

Nanami pulls his thumb from your mouth, but not before gliding it along your lipstick smudged lips and coating them in his flavour. 

Thrusting his hips against you one last time, he leans down and claims your mouth with his, swallowing your scream of ecstasy as you come in his arms.

“That’s it,” Nanami coos, the pleasured hum in his throat lulling you in tandem with the tender little kisses he presses to your lips “Hold onto me, baby.”

And you do, for dear life, until the last pulse of your pleasure fades and you’re left a completely exhausted mess on Nanami Kento’s desk.

The two of you stare at one another in that dim light, chests heaving and cheeks burning. Wondering if he came too, you look down at Nanami’s beige slacks. You almost die of embarrassment when you realize how drenched you’d made them.

“Did you come?” You ask him.

Nanami’s low, rumbling chuckle is your answer.

You’re about to protest and are ready to offer your body so that he can have his pleasure too, but Nanami halts your words by pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

It was one of the sweetest gestures you’d ever been gifted.

“Next time, darling.”

dividers by @/saradika

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt. 16 🔞

This Chapter contains some adult content

Por mi vida... Te amo a la luna y de vuelta mi hermosa....♥️

“You can keep dreaming because that won't happen” the dark haired woman laughed

“Worth a try” you smirked as you pulled Jennis jersey over your head

“Dear jesus Christ” you gagged lightly after you sniffed the fabric “Sure you only wore that for that game??”

“Actually no... that's the same one we wore at the Euro final” the spaniard deadpanned “We're broke you know... we have to re-use jerseys”

“Seriously??” you asked outraged your eyes wide with shock while Lucy started to snicker behind you

“Of course not... but you and your stupid tactic had me run a lot – sorry that my jersey doesn’t smell like detergent” Jenni rolled her eyes

“I think it was a good tactic” you defended yourself pouting “Lucy you tell her”

“You put me in goal!!!” your sister exclaimed

“Yeah... that was funny.. the way you panicky screamed at Mills to keep “that bloody ball far FAR away” from you....” you chuckled as your sister hit your shoulder

“Y/N... you still have something to do” now Sarina interrupted and you know you still need to come up with an apology to Rubiales

“How believable would it be if I suddenly have a stroke?” you asked the dutch innocently and all players around you snorted

“Not very believable... come on... the sooner you get it over with the sooner I can reward you for your actions” the blonde coach winked

“Hermoso” you looked at Jenni “... it was a pleasure as always... I have to go and fake apologize to your... whatever he is”

“Oh Corazon... I didn't even show you pleasure but okay...” the dark haired winked “and he's the federation president”

“He's a fucking cunt that's what he is” you grumbled not even catching up on Jennis comment

“And THAT'S exactly what we don't say in our apology” Sarina said chuckling

“Do I really have to come up with an apology on the spot without swear words?” you asked in disbelieve

“Yes Bitsy...” Keira rolled her eyes “... and I know you can – you always pull your head out of the sling somehow”

“Okay okay... give me a minute okay” you huffed starting to think of what to say “... Hermoso could you stop drooling over me abs? I know they're fantastic – me girlfriend tells me every time we...”

“STOP talking!” Lucy exclaimed shuddering at the thought of you and Georgia doing anything else than holding hands while Jenni, Keira and Sarina bursted out laughing

“It's distracting!!!” you huffed

“I am distracting you?” Jenni smirked enjoying the little banter which distracted HER from the previous incident

“Not you... you eyes” you grumbled “I need to think quick here”

“Come on Liefje” Sarina suddenly pulled you away “We won't get anywhere if you butterfly with Hermoso all the time”

“I'm NOT butterflying” you huffed annoyed

“Yes you are... now... this is going to happen now... you are going to apologize officially right in front of the crowd and later again at the post-match press” the dutch said and you grimaced

“Really? In front of the crowd?” you whined

“Yes... this is damage control and when everyone sees how “sorry” you are we have a good chance that FIFA won't interfere” Sarina said seriously and you huffed

“But I don't wanna” you whined again but one look from the dutch shut you right off

“You'll do fine Bitsy okay... you're good at that” Keira squeezed your shoulder supporting

“Ugh.... fine” you huffed annoyed as someone handed you a microphone connected to the stadium speakers

You started to walk out of the tunnel and you knew the second the camera caught you and your picture appeared on the big screens since suddenly there was loud cheering and it made you smirk. You walked all the way to the kick off point standing there for a second taking a deep breath before turning around facing the spanish bench where Vida and Rubiales were still standing. You saw how the medics just packed their stuff together and how Rubiales had two tissues hanging out of his nose. You really needed to bite your tongue so you wouldn't start laughing – you were “sorry” after all. At least that's what Sarina told you you were. You saw how all the players – Lionesses and Spanish – were lingering in the tunnel entrance waiting for your speech

“Hi” you started awkwardly looking into the stands after the crowd calmed a little bit which caused a new round of cheering and whistleing. Vida and Rubiales looked at you expectantly and when they saw you wore Jennis Jersey you saw how Rubiales jaw set challenging.

“Okay guys... I'm here to apologize for me actions towards Mr. Rubiales a few minutes ago” you said using your “I'm so so SO sorry”-voice “... I honestly don't know what caused me to act the way I did... I'm in the wrong here because violence is never the answer no matter how disgus... no wait... I'm not allowed to say that... violence is never the answer! Let stop there... I never meant to assault you Mr. Rubiales...” you looked at Rubiales himself trying to sell your apology so hard by talking directly to him “... I never meant to hurt you and I don't have an explanation for what happened. Please believe me when I say I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart”

Even you know you went a little over but you really REALLY tried not to verbally assault him right now

“You did nothing but being polite to me and what happens in your federation is not my business” you said and some people would swear they heard a threatening undertone “I hope you accept me apology and we can forget this... incident”

You walked back towards the tunnel before making a turn towards Rubiales himself offering you your hand to shake it. He grabbed your hand hard his jaw still set when you pulled him a little forward

“If you ever pull off something like that again you fucking cunt I personally will cut off your balls and feed them to you through your asshole and then I make sure that there's no inch of DNA left of your existence...” you growled into his ear covering it up with clapping on his shoulder like both of you made up “... most of them players I consider my friends – family even... I don't take it lightly if they get put in an uncomfortable situation and I always will have their back”

You let go of him smiling sweetly before turning around walking back into the tunnel where everyone stared of it with disbelieving looks. You smirked feeling great pride and satisfaction with yourself.

“I am REALLY proud of you Liefje” Sarina beamed as you reached her letting her pull you into a hug

“I can't believe it... you actually delivered a grown up apology” Leah said her face showed pure shock

“Yeah well...” you shrugged your shoulders

“I can't believe you apologized” Mapí looked at you a little disappointed

“Had to... they made me” you pointed at Sarina, Keira and Lucy

“I'm proud you didn't punch him again – I was worried there for a second when you made a beeline for him” Lucy threw her arm over your shoulder standing next to you proudly “And you didn't threaten him”

“I definitely didn't” you quickly said and your voice was a little high-pitched

“Bitsy” Keira warned you

“Hm?” you looked at her innocently

“Please don't tell me you did...” the blonde looked at you expectantly

“So... my reward” you turned towards Sarina

“Bitsy!” Keira exclaimed

“What? You said to not tell you... so I don't” you defended yourself

“What did you say... I knew that handshake was a cover up... I KNEW IT” Keira said annoyed

“Look... I just let him know how... I consider most of the spanish team me family... and that I'll always will have their back” you said honestly “andhowIwillfeedhimhisballsandthattherewon'tbeanyDNAleftifhepullssomeshitlikethisagain” you mumbled before quickly sprinting behind Alexia and Jenni ducking for cover

“Come again???” Keira looked at you shocked while the spanish players looked at you confused since you spoke to fast for them to understand

“Could you repeat that for the not english speakers please Cariño?” Alexia said confused

“I rather not” you mumble “Keira will have me head”

Luis Rubiales chose that exact moment to walk into the tunnel and you immediately stood up taller again moving in front of Jenni in a protective manner – which looked kind of ridiculous since Jenni was over a head bigger than you. He threw a death glare at you but continued walking as the crowd of english and spanish players parted like the sea for Moses.

“It's kind of cute how you try to protect me little one” Jenni chuckled from behind you

“He's a... Mapí... worst spanish curse word you know” you spat looking at Mapí

“Cojones or Cono” Mapí easily provided earning herself a really hard slap to the head from Irene and a death glare from Alexia

“That... he's both of that...” you growled looking after Rubiales

“Don't teach her that” Irene told Mapí off harshly

“She asked” the blonde tattooed woman defended herself

“And you CHOSE to answer” the Vice-Capitan answered

“I just wanted to helpful...” Mapí mumbled pouting

“Don't push it María León and just keep your mouth shut” Irene grumbled

“Bitsy... come here sweetie” Keira cooed sweetly

“Oh no... not gonna fall for that... it's like the time you told me you wouldn't get angry if I tell you what I did and after I told you you made me do push ups in the pouring rain” you shook your head looking at her scared shuffling backwards

“I promise...” the blonde tried again smiling sweetly but you saw right through it

“No no... I think I'm gonna stay with Ona” you said and the people who knew you could hear the slight fear in your voice

“You still have a pre-match conference to attend” Sarina reminded you smirking

“Aaaawww maaaaan” you whined “I did what you told me to do – why do I have to sit through that as well?”

“Because it was your game today and not mine” the dutch said “So YOU are going to answer all the questions... in a nice civilized manner”

“Ugh” you huffed and turned to walk towards the media room “But I'm not sitting next to that sorry excuse of a human being”

“Good evening Ladies and Gentleman – this is the post-match conference and we have 60 Minutes. We do it the usual way and go 30 minutes each. All question have to remind professional and under no circumstances will private questions answered. You all have one question if you want a follow up you have to talk to the person if they're willing to do one. We start with questions for the representatives of the english Lionesses Head Coach Sarina Wiegman and Y/N Bronze before going to the spanish representatives Jorge Vilda and Luis Rubiales” the coordinator said and you knew the cameras where already on so you pushed the urge down to roll your eyes your face staying stoic “We're starting with Alex Scott”

You exhaled deeply knowing Alex wouldn't ask anything regarding the Rubiales-event and probably would ask something frivolous.

“Alex Scott for BBC Sports” Alex started smiling at you “A question for Y/N Bronze”

“I know your name and where you work... I've known you for years now” you interrupted her confused which lifted the mood in the room since all of the reporters started chuckling

“That's how it goes y/n... we reporters have to introduce ourselves before asking the question” Alex smiled at you

“Oh okay...” you said quickly “... sorry for interrupting”

“No problem... but my question to you... we were all informed beforehand through different social media channels that you joined the Lionesses as a side line analyst – how comes that you basically dictated the game today?”

“I was given the chance by Sarina... Mrs. Wiegman... Coach? What do I call you?” you started then looked at Sarina unsure which caused another round of light laughter

“Sarina is fine...” the dutch smiled encouraging squeezing your knee under the table in a calming manner

“Sarina gave me the chance to work on a tactic for this game – Spain is a hard opponent to play. I got to Camp with Lucy... Bronze... Lucy Bronze my sister” you started but then got all nervous again since you actually never had to do any press stuff before.

Again Sarina jumped in by stroking over your knee calming

“... but you all know that...” you chuckled at your idiocy “... so when we arrived at Camp Sarina pulled me aside telling me she wanted me to watch some of the spanish games and to come up with a play where we at least can annoy them a little bit. I'm pretty sure she just did that to keep me occupied so I wouldn't do some stupid shit...” you said but quickly slapped your hand over your mouth “... I mean so I don't do... stuff... but yeah... after I sat down with her showing her some plays she told me to put a starting XI together.. at this point I still thought it was all like... hypothetical.. so I did... after that she said that she liked what I came up with and that she trusts me and that I'll have the lead on the game...”

“Would you be interested in answering a follow up?” Alex asked quickly knowing that she only had a short time frame before the next reporter would be called up

“For you always... I mean... you did change me diapers – I think it's just fair” you grinned

“And you were so squirmy about it... but my follow up... what made you come up with putting Lucy in Goal?” the short woman asked smiling

“Knew you would pick up on that” you laughed feeling slightly more relaxed “... that was a last second decision – I had four subs planned... two at half time, two around 70th minute... I left one slot for a possible injury sub – I played some players who just came back from an injury and I didn't want to overwork them. That's why I subbed Meado off 73rd minute in... she played outstanding and I didn't want to risk setting her back in her recovery... I quickly talked to her after she came off and she said she felt good but also appreciated getting off. So after I didn't need the left over slot and Lucy was mean to me earlier – and Keira said she would pay to see Lucy in Goal – I thought... why not... and come on... it was funny seeing her panicky waving her arms around like a monkey absolutely losing her plot screaming at Mills to keep the ball far FAR away” you laughed which caused the room to interrupt in laughter

“Okay next question please...” the coordinator said also laughing and called up a reporter you didn't knew who had a question for Sarina so you turned out and started to look around the room with a bored face which ended in a edit about how you and Lucy are so much alike in conferences

“Question for Y/N Bronze...” a young lad said and after you didn't react in the slightest being busy counting the sponsor labels on the wall behind you Sarina flicked your ear

“Huh??” you looked at you confused

“There's a question for you” the dutch gestured towards the room “Attention on the room”

“Sorry...” you said embarrassed

“You got a yellow card... how did that happened?” the young reporter asked

“First of all... that wasn't MY yellow card... THAT was Onas yellow card” you started serious but your lip tugged upwards and everyone noticed that you were joking “... she committed the foul... I just... asked the Ref if she doesn't see the need to card it”

You heard Sarina clear her throat next to you and you looked at her innocently

“What? I did” you defended yourself

“You took my glasses and ask the Ref if she needs them to and I quote “see a foul when it's happening”...” the dutch looked at you unimpressed

“Not my fault she's a blind moron – that WAS a yellow card” you exclaimed before remembering where you are and – again – slapping your hand over your mouth

Sarina exhaled deeply and started to pinch the bridge of her nose shaking her head slightly as the room erupted in laughter again

“Okay next question... Barry... your turn” the coordinator said and you tensed immediately.

Barry O'Connor was a legend under the reporters – he was one of the ones who could make you or break you. He never held back with the uncomfortable questions and he immediately knew when you lie and THAT he would use to break you.

“Thank you Tom... Barry O'Connor for The Guardian...” the older gruff man said and looked straight at you and you just KNEW what was coming “... question for Bronze... there was a slight – let's call it ruffle after the game... any comment on that?”

“Good evening Mr. O'Connor” you said politely “... I'm afraid you have to be more specific – there was a lot going on after the game”

“You punched the president of the spanish federation – the proof is sitting right there” the reporter said pointing at Rubiales

“Yeah... not my best moment is it... I want to apologize again and honestly I can't tell you what happened... I saw how he moved towards Jenni Hermoso and the next thing I know is Sarina yelling at me in the locker room...” you said and everyone in the room knew you told the truth “... I got the great honour to meet most of these players beforehand when I was visiting my sister in Barcelona and they welcomed me with open arms and helped me when I needed help – looked after me when I needed guidance... so I consider them as family... I don't take it likely if someone makes my family uncomfortable – which everyone who knows me can confirm... so I just – acted to protect my family”

“You said you needed help in Barcelona... what happened?” the older man asked

“Barry you had your question and we said from the start...” the coordinator interrupted but then got interrupted by you

“No it's okay... I'm honoured to be interesting enough to get a follow up by a reporter legend” you said and Sarina heard that you were about to get serious “It's not really a secret that I don't play because I suffered quiet early in my career from three ACL's... so even if I wanted to play I simply can't... in Barcelona a... incident happened that left me with a PTSD episode... all of them helped me afterwards – Mapí León right up top.. she went all the way to the airport to get me english chocolate... I got in the honour to get to know a few teams through Lucys career... if it was City, Lyon or now Barcelona... all of the teams have a special place in my heart but Barca now – they are something else... Alexia Putellas is an amazing leader – on and off the pitch... under her lead this team stepped up coming together as a family – no matter which nationality or background...”

You looked back at the reporter who smiled appreciative nodding slightly

“So yes... they helped me a great deal... even when I got overdosed on pain meds and didn't know what I was doing and gave them nicknames and was high as a kite” you winked

“Okay last question for the english side before we're moving on the spanish representatives” the coordinator said and pointed at a young blonde woman

“Thank you... Sarah Mulligan for ITV” the young woman said “Question for both Sarina and y/n... Sarina what made you involve y/n as much and y/n how did feel or managed with the pressure?”

“You first?” you looked at Sarina a little lost which caused the dutch to chuckle

“Thank you for your question” Sarina started and you interrupted her

“We have to thank for questions...” you exclaimed shocked before looked into the room “Thank you?”

This made everyone laugh again before Sarina continued

“It's polite Liefje” the dutch said lovingly “... but back to the question... I got to know y/n when she was recovering from her third surgery. I just took over from Phil Neville trying to get a read on the Team having called up a few young players but also some experienced ones – like Lucy Bronze. Lucy called me two days before Camp would start asking if she could bring her little sister who just got out of hospital. I agreed knowing from former games and also from stories how much Lucy cared for her sister. The moment I saw her for the very first time I knew she was someone special. She was still wearing a leg splint and was still on crutches but that didn't stop her from refusing help even going so far to hit Lucy away with her crutch...” the dutch remembering your first appearance smiling slightly “.... she was so grumpy and angry – a deep anger and I must admit I was unsure for a moment if it was a good idea to have her with the team. I feared she would bring the team spirit down – but I was wrong. So very wrong. The moment she stepped into the Hotel lobby and I saw how many players were happy to see her I knew it was the right decision. At the first training session she sat in the stands just staring down on the pitch – I must admit I kept an eye on her because Lucy asked me too... y/n never moved one muscle just stared down on the session. So I thought I let one of the assistants take over and went up to sit next to her. I sat down and asked how she was doing. Her answer was that I should rethink this formation because it's putting to much pressure on the midfield. Then she just stood up and left. I looked down on the pitch and saw Keira and Jordan Nobbs were struggling to keep up with the pace I tried to put up with the play. That was the moment I decided to get her involved more – one because she has an eye for things no one ever sees and two she needed a task. She needed something to take her mind off her injury and what it meant – what she lost. I got her involved a little bit more every camp and this time she finally accepted my offer to employ her full time which I know is a big step for her. But a big step in the right direction. A big step towards healing” the blonde said lovingly and squeezed your hand

“That got deep Mama Rina” you mumbled getting a little emotional before looking at the young reporter woman “Thank you for your question”

The room chuckled again enjoying your young easy and light way you were handling the situation of getting thrown into a press conference for the first time

“I'm sorry I can't provide such a deep meaningful answer but... I didn't feel any pressure to be honest. As I said before until the very last moment – the moment that Sarina made me explain my tactics to the team to be exact – it was all hypothetical for me. And after that I didn't really have time to feel pressured – I tell ya this team is a handful. Just yesterday Niamh called out Code Red – which means no one is allowed to leave – because she couldn't find her lucky socks... turns out the washed them in the sink and hung them on the balcony and they just fell off onto the balcony of Lottes... that's the shit you guys normally don't get to see” you said shaking your head when you remembered how ridiculously headless Niamh tore her room apart because of a pair of socks.

After the room quiet down from their round of laughter again the whole questioning shifted towards the spanish men and you started to spin with your chair until Sarina stopped you gently putting her hand on your arm to calm you down. You huffed but stayed still trying to listen to the answers of the Vilda and Rubiales but it was no use.

You heard your name a couple of times but since you didn't have any context you chose to ignore it – that was until a fuming Mapí León with an equally fuming Leila Ouahabi hot on her heels came blazing into the room both of them throwing some words at Vilda and Mapí even went so far to crawl onto the table separating the trainers from the reporters. Seconds later an angry looking Alexia entered the room just in time to grab Mapís ankle and pulling her back and away from the spanish national team coach. She tried to get her players under control by pulling both of them back by the hem of their jerseys. Mapí was kicking and screaming like a five year old – of course in spanish so you didn't understand a word – the only thing you understood was when Mapí yelled “mi Nena” - but when you looked at Vildas face it told you everything that you needed to know. You looked flabbergasted to Sarina who looked just as shocked and shrugged her shoulders before you turn towards the reporters where some just shook their head in disbelieve.

The post-match conference was ended pretty quickly after that and you basically jumped over the table sprinting out of the room past Keira and Lucy – who were waiting for you outside the room – towards the spanish locker room. This time you weren't as friendly as before and bolted through the door without knocking even tho you could hear Alexias angry voice half way down the corridor. The second you threw the door open the whole team looked at you and everyone fell silent – even Alexia.

“What the fuck just happened?” you looked at Alexia lost

“Cariño I love you I do... but this is something we have to talk about internally” Alexia said softly

“Mapí was about to strangle that mop in front of thousands and you say this is an internal thing?” you raised an eyebrow

“He called her a “lost little child who wears shoes that are to big for her and she's useless”... mi Nena knows EXACTLY what she's doing... mierda we lost FIVE zero...” Mapí started to rage again and you became big eyes

“Mapí ENOUGH” Alexia scolded her “Everyone SAW what she did and her head coach isn't a useless... culo like ours... there's no need for you to defend her... she has Lucy for that”

“But Lucy didn't do anything...” Mapí said outraged

“Because her spanish is shit and she probably didn't understand” you shrugged accepting the water bottle Ona held out for you “And the way you hesitated at the word “culo” means it's bad and I'll definitely save that down in me brain”

“No you won't Bebita” Ona smiled sweetly but you know just like with Keira it was a warning “Bad word”

“Then Alexia has to do push-ups... that the bad word rule!” you exclaimed and Alexia looked at you unimpressed

“I'm an adult... I can say whatever I want” the blonde spaniard said flatly

“Rule applies for everyone Capi” Jenni now grinned “Down on your hands and knees you go”

“What does culo mean?” you leaned over so you could whisper in Mapís ear

“Asshole” Mapí whispered back

“That'll make 15” you looked at Alexia “That word is an A-grade swear word.. A-grade swear words make 15 push ups...”

“I most definitely won't do any push-ups...” Alexia rolled her eyes

“But I always have to do them” you whined

“And look how much more your arms and shoulders are defined since I last saw you” the spanish capitan smiled and pinched your cheek

“You suck” you grumbled pushing yourself behind Ona to seek cover from her prying hands

“No little one... that's me... she's more the...” Jenni smirked but before she could end the sentence she got punched very hard in the shoulder by Alexia

“Come on Bebita... let's get you back to the Lionesses...” Ona said lovingly already pushing you forward slightly “Say bye-bye”

“Ass-dios” you waved which caused the younger players to explode in laughter – including Jenni – while Alexia threw you a death glare as Ona quickly pushed you out the door

“Keira...” Ona yelled seeing Keira down the corridor

“There you are!!! We where searching the whole place for you!!” Keira exclaimed the second she laid eyes on you “Don't you ever do that again!!!”

“I was just at the spaniards and pretty spaniard taught me a new word” you smiled at the blonde proudly

“Don't even” Ona warned you

“What happened?” Keira turned towards the blonde spaniard

“She suddenly kicked in our locker room door... and didn't except “it's an internally affair” from Alexia” your sisters girlfriend shrugged her shoulders

“Uh Kei...” you pulled on her jacket a little bit “Alexia said an A-grade swear word... and she refused to do push-ups”

“Really now... we can't have that now can we?” Keira mused sensing that you started to get tired and pulled you into her side winking at Ona before turning around slowly leading you back towards the Lioness locker room pulling out her phone to text Lucy and Leah that she “found” you

“You little shite...” Lucy started immediately but got cut off by Keira

“Leave her be... she's dead on her feet” the blond said firmly basically carrying all your weight your head on her shoulder

“Come here Bubs” Lucy exhaled deeply hoisting you away from Kei into her own arms cradling you like you were a three year old again while Keira got all your bags

“How bad is it outside?” your sister asked Leah who sneaked a look outside looking at the crowd waiting for the players to emerge from the stadium walking to the bus

“Nothing we're not used too...” the blonde capitan shrugged

“I'm asking because of her” Lucy nodded towards your sleeping form in her arms slightly drooling on your sisters jacket “If she gets startled half the team won't get an inch of sleep tonight – you remember the drama after the France game?”

“Wait... I get the noise cancelling headphones” Mary said thinking quickly pulling already on Rachels headphones getting them off her and carefully sliding them on your head.

You quickly got startled by the sudden loss of hearing but Lucy had you under control quickly by manoeuvring your head into her neck. The moment you smelled the familiar scent of your sister skin you relaxed again becoming boneless in her arms.

“She's so out” Keira chuckled

“You surprised?” Lucy answered hoisting you up a little more “Fuck me... this was easier when she was 3”

“No shit Sherlock” Millie deadpanned “Gimme... I'll carry her”

“Naah – we're good” your sister said but smiled at her teammate thankfully “I'll just bring her into the bus and then come out to sign some stuff...”

“You don't have to – you're not obligated to do so and you know it” Leah said seriously

“I know... but they waited long enough now and she'll be good once she's inside the bus” your sister answered “Let's get this show on the road”

As soon as the doors opened the fans went wild – as usual and Lucy was so SO thankful for Marys quick thinking of putting the noise cancelling headphones over your ears. Your sister walked quickly with you in her arms towards the bus disappearing inside it. She disposed you into her own seat asking the bus driver if he could have half an eye on you. Of course he agreed quickly being a fan of you himself with all the shenanigans you came up with all the time.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you were met with – darkness. Darkness and softness. You bolted upright searching for your phone in the dark. Getting more arrogated which each passing second you knocked over a bottle of water which caused a light to get switched on and you were met with the sleepy looking form of your girlfriend.

“What you doing baby?” Georgia asked her voice raspy

“What are you doing in my room?” you asked confused “Why am I in my room??”

“Firstly... that's my room... secondly... you were out like a light once Keira found you and then YOU wouldn't let go of me shirt and Keira got Lucy to agree to let us room for tonight under the promise that I won't touch you in any “not biblical” form” your girlfriend informed you

“Wait... what day is it???” you looked at her confused

“What?” Georgia asked equally confused

“Day baby... what DAY is it?” you looked at her like you're going to have a mental breakdown any second

“Still Wednesday... game day.. 23:48... why” G answered keeping her voice even to not set you off further

“Oh thank fuck” you sighed “Get ready... come on... take your phone”

You ushered your girlfriend out of her bed – not without ogling her body for a second longer that would go through as “biblical” - and then out of the room up a floor hiding behind a corner taking out our phone.

“23:52... perfect” you grinned

“What have you planned??” your girlfriend whispered in your ear from behind/above you which cause a shiver to run down your spine

“Welcoming Sarinas new year of age” you swallowed hard trying not to think what you could do now with your girlfriend instead of hiding waiting for the pipers to come down the corridor.

“Oh god... WHAT did you do??” G whisper yelled “If I get in trouble for it...”

“Please... as if I let you get in trouble” you snorted spotting the first piper stepping out of the elevator

“Oh god... oh god no... no no no no no” your girlfriend mumbled with wide eyes having spotted the piper as well “You didn't”

“Oh I so did... mi Vida” you grinned evilly

“Me what?” Georgia asked confused

“No idea... Lucy always calls Ona that – probably something dirty turn ons in spanish” you shrugged your shoulder “Where the fuck are Toons and Less?? And Jill... where is Jill?”

The moment you said it you saw your two best friends sprinting down the corridor, little party hats askew on their heads another set in their hands. Less was carrying some glitter bombs and confetti canons.

“We're not late” Toons panted coming to a halt in front of you “What she doing here?”

“I'm her girlfriend??” Georgia said confused

“Still doesn't answer me question... you don't get to bake in our fame” Ella said annoyed holding out a party hat for you which you immediately placed on your head

“Fame? You really think that going down well for you?” your girlfriend snorted nodding towards the piper who just set up their bagpipes.

“Of course... that a birthday she'll never forget” Lessi answered grinning widely “Can we start?”

“No.. we still missing Jill” you pressed taking Georgias phone to look at the clock “23:59... come on Jill”

You heard the “ding” of the elevator and surely enough there came a big three story birthday cake wheeling out with a widely grinning Jill Scott pushing it down the corridor towards you.

“Where were you?” you came out of your hiding – which was useless anyway since Toons and Less stood right in front of you – speed walking towards Jill smashing a party hat on her head.

“Had to think about something to get the room card” your Godaunt and most trusted adult friend – after Keira – said pulling out the little plastic card from her back pocket

“What did you say?” you snorted Jill could come up with the best backstories

“Want to surprise my wife for her birthday” the older woman smirked back “easy in the nights since there are only teenage boys covering Front Desk”

“We'll leave quickly after we delivered our present so you two have some alone time” you smirked

“Thank you Cookie – we very much appreciate it” the dirty blonde laughed “You guys ready?”

All of you nodded and Jill very VERY carefully pushed the card into the electronic lock waiting for the signature “click” before pushing open the door. You had Georgias phone ready and when Jill gave you a thumbs up you started recording. The pipers shuffled into the small hotel room and on a small cough from you they started piping “Auld Lang Syne” and not even five seconds in the light next to the bed got smashed on and a completely demolished Sarina Wiegman sat in her bed, blanket pulled up to her chest, glasses askew from being placed quickly on her nose, hair standing in every direction like she just got electrocuted her eyes wide in shock. The pipers went seamlessly over to “When the Saint go marching in” before finishing with “Scotland the Brave”. The second the little private concert was over Toons and Less let the Glitter bombs and Confetti canons explode right over Sarina – and her bed – all of you yelling “Happy Birthday”.

Your plan was nearly perfect. Get glitter and confetti all over Sarina before bolting. What you DIDN'T think off – pipers where loud. Very loud. Waking up most of the squad in process. Like Leah. And Lucy. And – most dangerously – Keira. So the moment you wanted to bolt you were met with a LOT of Lionesses. Angry looking Lionesses. Angry looking Keira. You locked eyes with her and after a second ducked behind Toons before sinking down on the ground trying to army rob out of the room hoping everyone was too distracted by everything that's going on. Oh boy where you wrong – of COURSE Keira saw you the second you tried to rob out of the room placing herself right in your way. You looked up when you hit her legs with your head which you kept down so it wouldn't been to obvious who was pressed in that room – which was overflowing with players now. Niamh and Toons already got cake in their hands (plates were overrated at this point) as Leah tried to control the chaos. You bumped into Keiras legs and looked up scared to be met with two angry glaring eyes. You tried to quickly rob backwards just to get stuck in Millies legs.

“I don't think so, y/n Bronze” Keira seethed pulling you up by your ear “Are you actually mad? Did you finally lose your plot? Why in gods name...”

“Hey Kei... you want cake... it's chocolate” your sister interrupted Keiras rant holding a hand full of cake right under the blondes nose

Keira just looked at Lucy then to you and back to Lucy who smiled like a happy kid with her handful of cake.

“I don't know if I should yell at both of you or just give up...” the blonde shook her head

“Keep calm and eat cake” Lucy smiled pushing her hand closer to Keiras face who automatically moved her head out of the way

“No thank you... it's in the middle of the night” the blonde said a little disgusted

“And?? You think we ever get away with eating cake in the middle of the night ever again??? Embrace the moment Kei... USE the moment” your sister said before she pushed the handful of cake into her mouth and you listened to what your sister said and used the moment to carefully sneaked away from Keira.

You tugged on Georgias shirt at your swift exit and she followed you just as quickly

“You know you're in big shit tomor... today... today morning... later... in the morning” your girlfriend rambled

“I know... but so worth it” you smiled and the second you two were through the door to the stairs case you pulled her back on her shirt kissing her deeply

“Not that I'm complaining...” Georgia started once you parted again “... but what brought that on?”

“You still had a little frosting..” you smirked pointing at your own lip “... I think I better check for more frosting once we're back in our room... you are a messy eater after all”

“I.. I think I dropped some of the cake...” your girlfriend stuttered a little bit and you could see her eyes darkening

“Yeah... thought so...” you smirked starting to walk up the stairs towards Georgias room when you suddenly feel your feet leave the ground and your girlfriend hoisted you over her shoulder

“What are you doing??” you laughed loudly as Georgia sprinted up the stairs

“You're a slowpoke sometimes” your girlfriend said exiting the staircase sprinting down the corridor on your floor before fumbling with the key card to open the door

“Open you stupid door” your girlfriend grumbled you still hanging over your shoulder snickering

“Let me down... makes it easier” you laughed slightly

“I nearly got it... wait a second” Georgia mumbled but a second later you heard her kicking the door

“Baby come on.... let me down” you laughed louder lightly poking her rips

“But don't run away” your girlfriend said her voice a little whine

“As if” you snorted and felt her scrunch down to put you on the ground before she came up again and you were face to face with each other

Your eyes quickly flickered down to her lips before looking at her eyes again. Before you could make up your mind you felt Georgias lips on yours kissing you deeply and you couldn't suppress a moan which your girlfriend used to slip her tongue into your mouth. She pinned you against the door her hands against your hip she used her whole body to keep you were you currently were. You on the other hand fished the little plastic card out of her hand where it poked into your skin and opened the door behind your back without even looking. The door opened with a small “beep” and you smirked against your girlfriends lips.

“Show off” Georgia mumbled against your lips and pushed you backwards into the hotel room already pulling your shirt over your head

“Fuck” you panted as your back hit the mattress next to your girlfriend a light sheet of sweat covering your body “THAT...”

“Better than the last time?” Georgia smirked smugly her breathing coming out laboured

“Nothing can top last time Babe... but you tried” you chuckled turning your body so you were pressed into the blondes side tucking your head into her neck feeling how her arm sneaked around your back pulling you closer

“I mean... I can try again” you heard the smirk feeling how her hand started to wander again “and again... and again... and again”

“No... please don't... you tried enough for tonight” you chuckled as Georgia stroked lightly over your ribs tickling you slightly before pushing her hand away positioning it on your hip

Georgia showed mercy just rubbing her thumb soothingly over your hipbone pressing a soft kiss to your hair

“You only getter better with training...” your girlfriend smirked then yelped as you poked her side

“You telling me I'm bad at what I'm doing?” you pushed yourself up onto your elbow looking down at her raising your eyebrow

“No no no no...” Georgia quickly said pulling you back down this time on top of her holding you tightly to her chest

“Mhm... that's what I thought” you mumbled closing your eyes relaxing against the blondes chest just enjoying the time you have with your girlfriend without needing to worry about your sister interrupting

You felt Georgia wriggling around under you which caused you to lift your head – again.

“Really? You still want to... again?” you look at your girlfriend expectantly

“No... I actually just tried to get the blanket” Georgia laughed as she finally got the hem of the blanket and pulled it over the two of you “... wouldn't want to deliver you back to your pit bull-like sister with a cold”

“DON'T mention my sister right now... that doesn't.. no.. just no” you grunted

“Sorry...” your girlfriend chuckled

“You're disturbing my post-orgasmic-bliss” you complained whining

“Sorry... I can... I don't know... make you forget that I just said that?” Georgia smiled her hand starting to wander towards your ass again while the other grabbed your breast teasingly

“Gosh... you really are impossible” you rolled your eyes prying her hand off your breast

“I mean... did you see my girlfriend? I can't help meself” the blonde grinned pulling you a little upwards to press a kiss to your lips

“Mhm... I did see her... still don't know how you scored her?” you teased smirking

“I didn't... she's stubborn... but I'm glad she threatened to break me legs if I don't pull my finger out of me ass...” Georgia murmured kissing you softly and smiled

“Did she now? I should talk to her... apparently she knows how to keep you in check – you can be quiet... defying” you grinned letting her kiss you over and over again

“Excuse me?” your girlfriend exclaimed acting upset

“Mhm... didn't my sister told you – multiple times I might add – to keep your hands away from me?” you grinned kissing her this time

“I CAN keep me hands to meself” Georgia smirked “Question is.. would you want that?”

“Such a rebel aren't you...” you smirked kissing along your girlfriends jaw down her to her neck

“Have me moments” Georgias voice betrayed her as she clearly getting turned on again

“Mhm.... Keira told me” you smirked against her neck before biting down slightly

“Keira??” this time it was G who got sober immediately

“It's a turn off isn't it... hearing about them” you grinned sitting up now straddling her waist

“Yes” your girlfriend grumbled “What did that wanna be ginger told you?”

“That you got your first tattoo the day after you turned 18” you smirked the blanket loosely draped around your hip

“SHE roped me into it!” Georgia exclaimed sitting up as well

“Oh really?” you smirked down on her taking her face in your hands kissing her softly “Do tell”

“She just got a new one and because she knew Mama Walsh will have her ass she convinced me to get one too... then after the next england game she hugged her mum and of COURSE Mama Walsh immediately saw it” your girlfriend told you rolling her eyes “And the next thing I know is she pulled me over by me sleeve “Georgia has one too – and she's basically a baby”... then Mama Walsh had me ass too”

“She played you...” you laughed loudly “.... she played you so hard”

“Yeah... I had to stand there for 12 Minutes getting lectured by Mama Walsh about the risks of tattoos...” your girlfriend grumbled

“To be fair... when Mama Walsh has it out for your ass you better find someone who you can distract her with” you shrugged still grinning

“Yeah... she can be scary... but I'm still sure she loves me more than Keira” Georgia grinned straining her neck a little so she could steal a kiss again

“Bet she loves ME more than all of you” you smirked pressing a wet kiss to her lips

“Yeah yeah... you're everyones favourite” your girlfriend rolled her eyes again but the slight smile never leaving her lips

“G... I... have a question” you hesitated a little bit

“What you need, baby?” Georgia asked softly but seriously

“I want a tattoo... I want you to do it” you blurted out

“What?” your girlfriend looked at you dumb folded

“I want you to tattoo me.... I know what I want and where I want it...” you said seriously

“Baby.... I can't do that” Georgia looked up at you as you stare down at her with a little betrayal in your eyes “... first.. I never inked someone and secondly... Lucy and Keira would definitely kill me... and third.. you're 16...”

“Then I'm gonna be your first like you were mine...” you grinned and with each passing second it got wider “... Lucy and Keira never need to know... and my Birthday is in two weeks”

“Which still makes you underage” your girlfriend pointed out and you heard that you slowly wearing her down

“I can get you Lucys signing if you want... like... setting up a document that she's not allowed to kill you” you smiled widely

“I tell you what... If you get that done I'll seriously think about it” Georgia said and you leaned down kissing her softly “... but I'm not doing anything big”

“Don't worry... nothing big...” you promised scratching your girlfriends neck lightly

“And where?” Georgia kissed your neck softly

“Right...” you took her hand laying it on your left side guiding it up to the point where your bra would sit “... here”

“A rib tattoo? Baby... that's a bad idea... that will hurt like a bitch” your girlfriend murmured against your neck kissing her way down to your collarbone

“I can take it... I really want it” you said breathlessly

“Maybe somewhere else?” Georgia mumbled kissing her way further down her destination clear

“That's the only place Luce won't see it immediately” you now outright moaned “Fuck”

“Mhm” your girlfriend hummed sucking your hard nipple into her mouth

“You just can't... fuck...” you started to complain but your voice betrayed you once again and your hip rocked forward on its own accord

“You want something baby??” Georgia asked after she let go of your nipple with a wet pop

“More... please” your head fell onto Gs shoulder your hips still rocking in her lap

“More?” your girlfriend smirked starting to knead your other breast

“Please” you whined

“Fingers or mouth baby?” Georgia basically growled against your skin getting slightly possessive

“Fingers” you whined lifting your hips a bit and Georgia got the hint letting her hand slip in between your legs

“You're gonna be good for me?” your girlfriend growled starting to mark your skin with small bites not enough to leave a constant mark like she'd like to

“Yes... but please” you begged and whined trying to get her fingers inside you but her hand laid still between your legs

“You won't come without permission will you baby? You'll wait until I tell you that you can come, right?” Georgia playfully bit your nipple

“I won't... I promise” you moaned rocking your hips down trying to find some pressure relieve

“Good... and you won't becauseeee...” your girlfriend teased your entrance with one finger

“Yours” you whined desperately

“Mine what?” Georgia nudged the underside of your jaw with her nose

“All yours...” you nearly broke “... G please”

“Ssshh baby... I've got you” your girlfriend soothed you slipping her finger into you

“Fuck” you whimpered feeling Georgias digit enter your heat

“Mhm... so wet... so hot... so desperate” Georgia mumbled against your jaw kissing her way to the point just under your ear “All for me or is there someone else?”

“No one else” you panted against her shoulder

“Are you sure baby? No one...” your girlfriend bit down lightly “... someone spanish maybe... Jenni Hermoso maybe?”

Your hips rocked down hard on her finger your rhythmic movement faltering for a second before it picked up again

“Hmmm...” Georgia hummed pleased “... maybe that could be arranged one day”

“Fuck...” you whimpered

“Bubs??” you heard suddenly through the door loud banging followed

“Fuck” you looked at Georgia shocked her face just as frightened

“BUBS?” Lucy said a little louder

“What??” you yelled back your hand covering your girlfriends mouth

“You okay? You were gone suddenly” your sister spoke loudly

“Yeah... just... didn't wanna wait till Keira recovered from her confusement” you tried

“Can you maybe open the door?? I'm standing here like an idiot” Lucy sneered

“It's... not the best time Luce...” you whined “I'm... about to go shower”

“Well... then let me in and shower then” your sister wasn't giving up and you knew it

“You can also go back to your own room” you said helplessly

“Can't... Less has the key card and I don't know where Less is” Lucy groaned

“Lucy please... just... go somewhere else” you whined back even knowing all mood was gone

“You are my sister... why would I go somewhere... wait a second... where is Georgia?? Is Stanway with you???” your sister exclaimed

“No for god sakes Lucy... I just want to shower in peace... fuck off now” you yelled through the room and suddenly it was quiet

“Fuck me... she really knows how to ruin the mood” you grumbled lifting yourself off your girlfriends lap who was still rooted in her place “Unbelievable”

“That was close” Georgia stammed still a little scared

“Yeah well.. I was too...” you continue to grumble mostly to yourself until... you heard the signature “beep” of the door – your head shot up first to the door then to your girlfriend who spotted the same frightened look as you

You quickly threw on a shirt and gestured to Georgia to hide – which was ridiculous since it was firstly her room and secondly there wasn't really anywhere for her to hide

“Hide” you whisper yelled panicked while you threw a shoe at the door trying to block it

“Where??” Georgia whisper yelled back looking around just as panicked

“I don't know�� you pulled on some shorts quickly

“Bubs... you blocking the door?” you heard Lucys voice and already saw the crown of her head trying to make its way inside the room

“Why would I??” you answered and tried to sound annoyed watching your girlfriend ripping open the door of the closet “Really?? You wanna hide in the wardrobe??”

“You have a better idea?” your girlfriend hissed back

“Bath or Balcony?” you looked at her confused

“Bubs... the door is stuck” your sister complained again

“You are stuck you muppet” you shot back pushing your girlfriend outside on the balcony

“Yeah well maybe you open the door then” Lucy said annoyed

You quickly went over ripping the door open looking at her expectantly

“What you want and where did you get that key?” you grunted at her

“Wanted to make sure you okay – you're on Sarinas list now... and key... Leah – as the capitan she has a universal key” your sister shrugged her shoulders “Jesus Christ Bubs... open the windows would you... it seriously stinks in here”

“I will... I just didn't want to come back from me shower into a cold room” you lied weakly “you saw that I'm alright now... so... good night”

“Yeah since I don't know where Less is... can I crash at yours?” Lucy rubbed the back of her neck embarrassed

“No” you exclaimed before clearing your throat “I mean... that's a little inconvenient Luce...”

“I'm your sister” Lucy exclaimed rolling her eyes

“I know and I love you... seriously... but I just want to shower and go to bed.. I...” you said trying to come up with an excuse “... I... have this... woman problem you know....”

“Your period?” your sister asked confused

“Yes...” you nodded slowly

“And? Gosh Bubs you really scared me there for a second... you need anything?” Lucy said lovingly

“Just... peace and quiet... please” you basically begged her at this point

“Geez okay... I'm already leaving...” your sister said and you noticed she got all defensive

“Luce” you whined

“No it's okay... you're a grown up now... you don't need me anymore” Lucy said already half way through the door

“That's not true.... Lucy come on...” you said again trying to calm your sister down

“Keira said I need to let you spread your wings... WINGS Bubs... not your legs okay” your sister said and pointed at you threating

“Okay Ew... that's disgusting” you pulled a face disgusted

“Exactly... sex is disgusting... never take part in it” Lucy said happy with herself

“Yeah...” you said embarrassed “... you're too later for that I'm afraid”

“Good... now go shower and then to bed... Sarina will blast through your door in... four hours” your sister smiled quickly checking her watch

“What does Sarina want?” you ask confused

“You're on her list... you gonna run” Lucy smiled before disappearing into the corridor again

“Fuck me” you exclaimed whining closing the door making your way to the bathroom

You just stepped under the shower when you remembered something important

“FUCK” you quickly jumped out of the shower wrapping yourself in a big fluffy towel before speed walking through the room opening the balcony door again pushing your head outside looking at your girlfriend who was just covered by a thin blanket standing pressed into the corner of the outside space

“Lucys gone” you smiled innocently ushering Georgia inside

“Do you know how cold it is in England this time of the year??” your girlfriend said her teeth chattering slightly

“Yeah I know... I'm sorry... but come on... I already turned on the shower for you” you smiled

“Gosh I love you” Georgia said pressing a kiss to your forehead heading towards the bathroom

“Oh and babe... Sarina will kick our door down in about four hours...” you nonchalantly called after her and you heard a crashing sound

“WHAT??”

[229zmi]

MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.” Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

[harleehazbinfics]

OMGOMGOMGOMG HOW WOULD CHIEF CANNIBAL READER X ALASTOR REACT TO CHARLIE DAD COMING TO THE HOTEL

Love Rival??

A/N: POLLING IT RN, ARE WE MAKING THEM THE OFFICIAL RIVALS??? AND ALSO DO WE DESERVE A KISS? CUZ THIS CHAPTER IS THE CLOSEST WE WILL EVER GET TO INTIMACY

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

The day finally came when Lucifer, Charlie's dad, would come to the hotel. So, out of consideration for your friend, you hosted a dinner party to leave a good impression on Hell's King himself.

So, you busied yourself in the kitchen for the past hour trying to whip up as much and as fast as you could, given the limited time you had been offered.

Everyone was gathered as they would on any regular day since you had started preparing breakfast. However, today they brought a little bit of... class~. They wore their best outfits seeing how special this event started to be and wore suits and dresses to dinner.

After everyone was present and settled themselves down. You appear before them donned in your chef's uniform, an apron wrapped around your waist stained with sauces and your hair curled, tied into a bun inside a hairnet. You introduce each dish that was placed down in front of them by Alastor's shadow puppets.

"Ooh! This pasta are incredible! Compliments to the chef!" Lucifer exclaims lifting his head and grinning at you.

"Oh, thank you!" you replied while gave him a polite smile and nodded your head.

While you we were wiping Niffty's face that was covered in the ragu with a napkin. Lucifer turns to Charlie and says, "Say, do you always eat together like this? I wouldn't mind staying here if that were the case."

While he was laughing at his own jest. Alastor, who sat opposite of him, glared at him not even being subtle about it. "It's a shame that his majesty has so many important matters to deal with. He hasn't even come to see how his daughter was in a while and finds his only reason to stay is through my companion's cooking," Alastor jabs at him while delicately cutting the meat on his plate that you especially made for him.

Lucifer splutters nervously as he aggressively denies the deer's claims. Lucifer watches as you approach Alastor's side and pour him his drink, seeing your heart shaped manic eyes ogling him while Alastor exuded a softer aura around him.

"Hohoho," Lucifer laughs in revelation before raising his own glass, "Uh, chef dear? Could you also pour me a drink?"

You raise eyes towards him, eyes turning normal before giving him another smile before coming over to his side. Lucifer gives Alastor a smug grin as you poured him the wine and sees how Alastor narrows his eyes at the blonde, as if asking him what the hell he was doing.

"So, you uh.. you made all of this by yourself?" Lucifer trying to start a conversation with you and keep your eyes off Alastor.

"Why, yes! Given I only had an hour to prepare, this is the least I could do," you reply with a small smile.

You didn't find it odd that much that this very important person was talking to you so candidly. You didn't really mind that much given how well he complimented your cooking so, all of his antics flew passed you head as he continued conversing with you.

By the time Lucifer decided to go home, you all gathered at the door to send him off. After he gives Charlie one last hug, he steps closer to you. All of you were confused at his actions especially what happens next.

"I'm sorry for my sudden intrusion then. I'd love to try you cooking some other time," he says with a flirtatious smile after he kisses the back of your hand.

Your eyes widen open as Alastor's ears peel back while giving the blonde a snarl. After he disappears, Alastor wipes the back of you hand on his coat and takes you to his quarters to get rid of the outrageous' sent off of you.

While in the bath as he scrubbed you down without batting an eye at your naked form. He takes the stained hand of yours and bites down on it with his sharp fangs deeply causing it to bleed.

"You belong to me. Got it?"

🔗TAGLIST:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff

[dancingbirdie]

I Promised You (Chapter 2)

Here it is! The second/final part to this fic request I received. I worked SO hard on this, and I'm super proud of how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy!

I'm thinking about doing a possible epilogue with a dash of smut and domestic bliss but it's just a thought at this point. Let me know if you'd be interested in something like that!

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, FLUFF, angst, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

The three of you agreed it would be best to wait until the next morning before you attempted the spell. It irked you, having to wait yet another night, but you recognized the soundness in the logic. A good night’s rest and complete sobriety were more prudent, especially attempting something as audacious as this. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to rest without the aid of a sleep potion, so you downed a bottle in one swallow before forcing yourself to crawl into bed. Not long after, Astarion joined you in the four-poster you shared, lying on his back and staring vaguely at the canopied silks above you. You turned on your side toward him, trying to gauge his expression. 

“If it doesn’t work —” he began, breaking the silence. 

“It will,” you affirmed in an ironclad tone. 

Astarion nodded absently, his train of thought undeterred. 

“But if it doesn’t… I want you to know that it won’t be the end of the world,” he finished, turning his head to look at you. 

You stared at him dubiously, quirking a brow. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know you. I know how hard you push yourself. And I know that if this somehow doesn’t work, you’re going to blame yourself for it. If you’re even still here to know if it doesn’t work. Gods,” he grimaced, turning to stare up at the ceiling again. “I still can’t believe the two of you have convinced me of this.”

“I appreciate your assurances, darling, but they’re not needed. I know this is going to work… I can feel it in my bones,” you smiled, reaching for his hand over the covers. Your fingers intertwined easily. He lifted them to plant a kiss on each knuckle. 

“Nevertheless, I wanted it known. I don’t want you crawling on your hands and knees begging for forgiveness if it fails. The very idea that you’re even willing to try this for me is more than enough.”

“I love you,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. Your eyelids began to droop. You could feel the beginnings of the sleep potion taking effect. 

“And I love you, my darling,” Astarion returned, sidling closer and wrapping you in his arms. 

You fell asleep to the sensation of him kissing the crown of your head. 

***

You roused from sleep to the chiming of the first morning bells, your senses on high alert. 

It was morning. It was time. 

You peered over your shoulder to see Astarion still lying beside you, his eyes closed in meditation. You reached a hand behind you to poke him, gently, in the side. 

He scoffed but kept his eyes closed. “Keep those jabby little fingers to yourself, pup.”

“Just seeing how alert you are” you teased. 

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. I’m perfectly aware of my surroundings,” he quipped. 

“Good, good… That means you’ll be expecting this!” you laughed as, all at once, you half-jumped, half-clambered on top of him, pinning him to the bed. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, if his annoyed cries of outrage were anything to go by. 

“Unhand me, you little beast,” he cried as he attempted to pin your arms to your sides. “Have you gone completely mad?” 

You giggled as he wrestled you into compliance, grinning mischievously as you sat atop him. 

Seeing your expression, he huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Honestly,” he chided. “Can’t you ever just behave?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” you smirked, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. 

He squawked in surprise at your suddenness before leaning in to kiss you deeper. 

After a few moments of heated embrace, you broke from the kiss, both of your breathing a bit ragged. 

“Gale will be here soon,” you murmured. “We best get dressed.”

“Bah. Don’t mention him when I’ve got you straddling my lap like this,” Astarion grumbled. 

You laughed but wiggled your way off of him anyway. He growled his disapproval. 

“It’s almost time,” you whispered excitedly, darting across the bedroom to fish some clothes out of the dresser. 

Astarion turned to recline on his side, head propped up in one hand, watching you from his vantage point on the bed. Piddling about the room as you were, you failed to notice the look of sincere worry splayed across his features. 

“Yes,” he murmured. “Almost time.” 

***

Gale arrived shortly after the two of you had dressed and descended the stairs to wait in the den. Per usual, all the curtains in the cottage were closed, preventing any sunlight from creeping into the rooms. Or any prying eyes from peering in. Not being blessed with dark vision as you and Astarion were, Gale muttered a string of curses as he stumbled into an overgrown houseplant you had been nursing, nearly invisible in the gloom. Astarion suppressed a laugh while you murmured a series of apologies and began moving hurriedly about the room, lighting candles to help the wizard see a bit better. 

Anticipation skittered across your skin and through your body as you helped Gale prepare for what was to come. You conjured a cot, gathered some medical supplies, and laid out some blankets for when you inevitably passed out. Meanwhile, Gale set to work on warding the room to prevent any collateral damage to the cottage or neighboring houses should the spell go awry. You tried to avoid glancing at Astarion, who was perched in his reading nook, one leg bouncing with nervous energy. You hoped that if you just carried on, business as usual, it would make him less inclined to call the whole thing off. And, too, he despised being coddled in front of an audience, even if it was your old companion Gale. 

Finally, finally, all the preparation was complete. You turned slowly to survey the room. Formerly the den, it now resembled a half-hospital ward, half-wizard’s keep with all the furniture shoved aside to one corner, a cot and medical supplies positioned in another, and a sizable runic circle drawn in chalk in the center of the room. You had everything you needed. Now, it was just time for the spell. 

“Do you feel ready?” Gale asked carefully, observing you taking in the room. 

You turned to him and smiled. 

“Yes. I’m ready,” you answered. Confidence bloomed in your chest as you walked forward to take your place in the very center of the runes. Then you turned to Astarion. 

“How about you, darling? Ready?” you asked, reaching out for his hands. 

You could see the anxiety in his eyes, rounded as they were, but he nodded once and rose with preternatural grace to walk forward and take your hands. You both stood stock-still, facing one another. 

Despite being on solid ground, in the comfort of your house, it suddenly felt like you were on the precipice of something incomprehensible. This home, this room where you had shared so many wonderful memories, was now a liminal space. Whatever was to happen, neither of you would be the same afterward. It was a heady feeling, the awareness that you were about to walk headfirst into cataclysmic change. 

“I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Whatever happens. I love you.”

“And I love you,” you returned, smiling broadly. “Whatever happens.”

With a final reassuring squeeze, you slipped your hands from his. Closing your eyes, you rested your palms on your diaphragm and began to take a few deep, concentrating breaths. Centering yourself for what was to come. 

When you opened your eyes again, you felt ready. Calm. Assured. 

“Let’s begin,” you intoned. Both Gale and Astarion nodded wordlessly. 

With your eyes locked on Astarion, you reached into the well of magic within your body, drawing up power slowly, methodically. You began channeling it through your fingers. Almost as though they were doing it on their own accord, your hands lifted to begin performing the spell’s gesticulations, your wrists twisting and fingers curling with perfect precision.

Then, in a low but strong murmur, you began to recite the required incantation in Celestial. It was a lengthy script that you had spent months memorizing and practicing in order to pronounce the words flawlessly. The words poured from your lips in lilting, seamless tones as you continued to shift your hands and maintain your gaze on Astarion standing before you. 

After a few moments, the candles you had lit around the room snuffed out in unnatural synchrony. The runes encircling the two of you began to emit brilliant white light. While they touched you as well, the rays seemed to direct themselves intentionally toward Astarion, bending so that every bit of him was illuminated from head to toe. The light left him unharmed, however, washing over his skin like a gentle caress. The effect left him looking like a veritable angel. You committed the sight to memory, glorious as it was. 

It carried on like that for some time, uninterrupted, but you reckoned you were nearly halfway through the spell when you felt a sudden shifting within you. The sensation of your magic changed. What had once felt like open channels coursing through your body was now beginning to feel more constricted. Like something was compressing your power. 

Sweat began to bead on your forehead, and your bones began to ache as though your entire body were being drained of all its energy. Distantly, you realized that one of your knees was also beginning to buckle. But you couldn’t stop now. You knew from your training with Gale that if you paused, if you faltered in the incantation or hand movements even once, the spell would be ruined. And there would be no second chances. 

Refusing to be deterred, you pushed with all of your might against that fatigue, willing yourself to maintain your focus on the spell. On Astarion. On the look in his beautiful eyes. Was it just your imagination, or were they starting to look a bit different?

Just as you began to feel your second knee buckle, a strong pair of hands braced around your shoulders. Holding you up, providing you support. You couldn’t break to look behind you, but you didn’t have to. You knew it was Gale. Your kind, long-suffering companion. Your closest friend. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t let you falter. 

Sustained by his added support, you managed to utter the last remaining lines of the incantation. Your arms were heavy and growing lethargic, but you willed your hands to finish the final movements. You could feel you were on the verge of unconsciousness. Your magic was screaming in your veins to relent, but you bullishly forced your body into compliance. 

You will not fail, you chanted in your mind. You promised Astarion this would work. 

Finally, finally, the last syllable fell from your lips. As the room descended into hushed silence, you felt your magic give one last, desperate surge before abandoning you completely. The shock of it caused you to lose all remaining strength, catching Gale by surprise as you slumped gracelessly to the floor. 

You lay there with eyes wide open, but you could barely take in your surroundings. Everything appeared to be covered in dark, gauzy film. You could hear rustling around you, above you. Then a pair of hands were grasping your face. You couldn’t make out the words they were saying to you. 

In your last few seconds of consciousness, you could have sworn you saw a pair of startling blue eyes peering down at you, concerned. 

Funny, you thought in a delirious stupor, none of your friends had blue eyes. 

***

“Vital signs all look to be in safe ranges. Their magic is completely depleted, but that will resolve itself over a few days of rest.”

Astarion listened to Gale’s explanation, but his eyes never wavered from your face. It was so foreign, seeing you like this, wan-faced and unconscious. Of course, he had seen you injured before, but no wounds had ever rendered you so still and lifeless. It felt utterly unnatural for you to be this motionless, when you were usually such a tumbleweed of frenetic energy. The anxious, nonsensical part of him was itching to shake you awake, will you into consciousness by sheer brute force. 

“Astarion, did you hear me?” Gale’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“They’re going to be completely fine.”

“Yes.” Astarion replied absently, eyes never leaving your face. 

“Astarion.”

“What?” he hissed, finally lifting his gaze to the wizard. His voice had as much bite to it as a rattlesnake prepared to strike. 

“The spell worked,” Gale smiled. 

“I– I know,” Astarion replied, peering back down at you. “My fangs are gone, I think.” 

He paused, swallowing thickly, before continuing. “I can’t feel them anymore. It just feels like regular canines now.”

“Don’t you want to take a look?” Gale asked cautiously. 

Astarion’s eyes flitted up to meet the wizard’s gaze and then back down to your sleeping form. 

“We don’t have mirrors in the house,” he replied in a timid sort of tone, sidestepping the question. 

“I can conjure one. Here–” Gale paused, then began murmuring a few phrases in a language unknown to Astarion. 

After a moment, an ornate, floor-length standing mirror shimmered into existence in the center of the room. Astarion flinched, staring at it, caught between two diametrically opposed urges to flee from the room and sprint toward the mirror. How was it that both feelings could exist simultaneously in his body, a distant part of him wondered. 

“Go on,” Gale encouraged. “See for yourself.”

Astarion glanced down at you one last time before releasing a shaky breath and moving from the side of your cot to the center of the room. He approached the mirror at an angle, so that he couldn’t yet see his reflection. If he had one. 

He knew he should just charge up to the blasted thing and see for himself whether it was true, that the spell had completely worked. But something about the mirror just felt more real, more meaningful, than the notable absence of fangs in his mouth. And that made it a thousand times more intimidating. Seeing his reflection for the first time in over 200 years? It was something he had only dreamed about for decades and decades. Astarion didn’t know how he would bear it, if he stepped in front of that mirror and saw nothing but the back of the room reflected. 

He knew Gale was watching him surreptitiously as he tried to maintain his composure. He really did not want to break down completely in front of the wizard, no matter how good a friend he had been to you both over the years. 

Finally, clenching his eyes shut and with a grumbled “Fuck it, just look” to himself, Astarion sidestepped to stand fully in front of the mirror. He opened his eyes. 

And then he was watching himself open his eyes. 

His beautiful, cerulean blue eyes.  

The jaw of the face he saw in the mirror dropped, mouth opening in shock. His jaw. His face. It was his mouth he was watching as it opened. 

He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Slowly, he raised one hand to his hair. The mirror image tracked his movements. He watched himself as he threaded his fingers through his curls. His silver, perfectly coiled locks. He marveled at how they laid so carelessly posh on his head, giving him a tidy yet windswept sort of look. 

His other hand lifted to touch his jaw. His eyes tracked his fingers’ movements in the mirror as they traced the sharp cut of his jawline. When he turned his head, he noticed the puncture marks on his neck were nowhere to be found. Not that he had ever seen them, of course, but he had felt them. Those warped indents left over from Cazador’s brutal transformation process. Many of his unfortunate victims over the years had commented on how barbaric the scars appeared against the otherwise perfect skin of his neck. But looking at himself now, nothing remained on either side of his neck than spotless, alabaster skin. 

His eyes darted wildly about his reflection then, barely able to comprehend everything he was seeing. His unblemished, pale skin. His full lips. His refined patrician nose. His sharp cheekbones. His delicately pointed elven ears. His perfectly defined brows. The thick, dark lashes that surrounded his eyes. Blue eyes. The broadness of his shoulders. His trim waist. His lean yet muscular legs. The way his physique alluded to a subtle but powerful amount of strength. 

He was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And he could see it for himself now, for the first time in centuries. He could see it all for himself, those things his former lovers had praised him for. The things you complimented him on. The features he caught you ogling time and time again.

And then, he felt something truly remarkable inside his body. A sensation long since forgotten but now returned to him in full force, as though it had never left. His heart was beating in his chest. Pounding, in fact. Almost as though it would blast a hole right through his ribcage. 

It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and stupefying all at the same time. And suddenly, like a swift punch to the gut, the magnitude of it all wrenched the very breath from his lungs. He crashed to his knees, watching his reflection as he slumped before the mirror. 

A strangled cry clawed up and out of his throat as his mind twisted itself in knots, trying to accommodate this reality alongside everything else he had known and experienced before. He felt altogether too much and nothing at all. Tears poured from his open eyes as uncontained sobs wracked his body.  

Amid his emotional outburst, Astarion registered a gentle hand against his upper back. A solid presence against his side. Gale. Dear, sweet Gale. 

Distantly, he realized the wizard’s hand did not feel like a searing heat against him anymore. In fact, he felt no warmer than Astarion felt. Like their body temperatures were near equal. Before, that had only ever happened when his spawn siblings or Cazador had touched him. But now, he was as warm as any other living being.

Living. Being.

Before he could seriously reconsider it, Astarion crushed Gale in an embrace as he continued to weep, the need for companionship and solace a sudden ache within him. The wizard held him with all the comfort and compassion a friend could offer, rubbing his back in soothing circles and murmuring words of assurance. 

Finally, after some time, Astarion peeled himself away from Gale’s embrace. He dried his eyes on the cuff of his shirt and attempted to restore some remaining ounce of his dignity. Gale sat quietly next to him, affording him some companionable silence to gather himself. 

“Ahem,” Astarion coughed, attempting an air of normalcy. “Th-thank you, Gale.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend,” Gale responded with a gentle smile. “Truly, I am so happy for you.”

Astarion nodded, peering about the room, his eyes landing on the mirror once more. 

“It still doesn’t feel real,” he murmured, watching himself speak the words.

“Well, you could always take the test one step further and walk outside,” the wizard suggested. 

“No,” Astarion shook his head, glancing back at you, asleep in the cot. “I want to wait until they wake up. Do it together.”

Gale nodded in understanding. Peaceful silence permeated the room once more. 

“Gale?” Astarion asked after a few moments. 

“Hmm?”

“If you tell anyone I wept on you like a newborn babe, I’ll fucking kill you.”

A hearty guffaw erupted from Gale’s mouth at Astarion’s words. 

***

Consciousness rose up in you slowly, as if emerging from a deep body of water. You felt around the sheets blindly, realizing you were back in your bed. Strange, given the last thing you remembered was slumping to the floor before Gale’s feet. 

Had the whole thing been a dream? Your mind reeled at the thought. 

Then you hesitantly reached down, reached inward, for your magic. The result was immediate and evidence enough: your well of magic was not nearly as expansive as it had been before. What had once felt like a reservoir the size of a lake now felt akin to a pond. Still potent, but a much smaller resource. 

That’s okay, you reasoned to yourself. It will all be worth it, if it worked. 

You refocused your attention to your surroundings, peering around the room for any sign of Astarion. You had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days later for all you could gather. 

After a few moments, you heard the door creak. Your eyes darted over to the sound of the noise, and you watched as Astarion cautiously entered from the hallway. At the sight of you awake, he paused in the doorway to look at you. 

His eyes met yours. Blue eyes. Dark, cerulean irises. 

Then he gave you a broad smile. No fangs. Perfectly normal, elven teeth. 

Suddenly you found yourself unable to see anything as your vision blurred behind a rush of tears. It worked. 

It really, truly worked.

Your arms outstretched, you beckoned to him, childlike, wanting nothing more than to feel him close to you. Astarion huffed a laugh as he crawled into bed with you, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

Laying your head against his chest, you began to weep anew as you heard his heart beating against your ear for the first time. A reliable, strong thump-thump, thump-thump. It was, without a doubt, the loveliest sound you thought you had ever heard. Astarion said nothing, just held you as you cried tears of pure joy, of relief, into his shirt. 

After some time had passed, you finally detached yourself from his chest, putting enough distance between yourselves that you could truly take in his changed features. You noted the absence of the puncture wounds on his neck. You stared unabashedly at his gorgeous eyes. Tentatively, you reached a hand out to part his lips with a finger. He chuckled as he surmised your intentions before opening his mouth slightly to allow you to see his perfectly normal-looking canine teeth. 

“Have you gone outside yet?” you whispered in a scratchy tone, your voice rusty from lack of use. 

“Not yet. I was waiting for you, darling,” he smiled. 

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Oh, about a day and a half, I’d say,” he replied. “Your snoring has been absolutely egregious, by the way,” he continued, a wicked little smirk gracing his mouth. 

You smacked him lightly on the arm. “How dare you!” you cried with mock outrage. “I cure you of vampirism and this is the thanks I get?”

“You cured my vampirism, not my cheeky personality, darling,” he teased, but then grew more serious. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling?”

You squeezed his arm in assurance. “I feel fine. Still a bit weak, but I should fare better after some food and a little fresh air.”

“And your magic?” he eyed you carefully. 

You paused, biting your lip. 

“Don’t sugarcoat it, darling,” he warned. 

“I think it took a lot from me. Permanently, that is. My well of magic feels much smaller, but it’s still enough to defend myself with, if the need ever arises.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. The look on his face was one of utter guilt. 

“Don’t be. Astarion, look at me,” you beseeched him, clutching his face in your hands. “I would do nothing differently. I’d give it up all over again for this. To see you cured. This is a gift.” 

He let loose a halfhearted laugh. “I think it should be me saying that last bit rather than you, my dear.”

“Are you kidding? Think of all the blood I’m saving myself now that you’re finally cured,” you quipped, winking at him. 

A true, hearty laugh bubbled past his lips. “Leave it to you to say something so crass during such a serious moment.”

“But you love me,” you cooed, leaning in for a kiss. 

“Always, my darling,” he returned, pulling you closer to him as his mouth descended upon yours. 

***

The first morning rays were peaking over the horizon when you cracked open the cottage door to peer outside. Your gaze wandered across the rolling hills beyond the main thoroughfare, catching glimpses of the herdsmen and farmers who were out beginning their days’ work. They were the only other folks up and moving about at this time of day. 

You took in the cloudless sky, painted with beautiful pastel smatterings of oranges, pinks and blues. The air was pleasantly misty as a gentle breeze washed across your face, bringing with it the subtle scent of chimney smoke from neighboring houses. 

It was, by all accounts, an incredibly mundane morning. At least for everyone else besides you and the pale elf lingering behind you on the doorstep. 

“Are you ready?” you asked, looking back at Astarion. 

His gaze was trained on the sunlight beginning to peak over the hills. He nodded absently, allowing you to take his hand in yours as the two of you began strolling down the road. 

His fingers were tense as they interlaced with yours. You could tell his body was priming itself to flee at the first sign of discomfort. It was knee-jerk survivalist behavior. You knew it would subside after today, which is why you remained a silent, comforting anchor of support by his side. 

As you continued to walk, the two of you took in the comforting signs of life around you. The smell of fresh bread baking in someone’s oven. The bleating of a family’s goat. The quiet clucking of hens in their coop. The laundry hung out to dry. You watched as Astarion took it all in, his eyes wide with wonder at being able to see this side of living once again. He hadn’t been able to witness it since the tadpoles in your brains had been destroyed. 

By the time the sun had fully risen above the horizon, you and Astarion had made it out of the little town. You were walking along a well-trod path through the hillside when the morning light swept across your skin. You felt Astarion flinch at the sensation, his fingers squeezing yours in a vice-like grip. You paused your walking, turning to face him instead. 

He was gorgeous, half of his face limned in the gentle warmth of the sun. His eyes filled with such hope and happiness it threatened to rend your heart in two. You watched as he looked at you and then down at his hands, flipping them over, studying them in the light. Noting how they didn’t burn or blister. 

“See? It’s real. You’re cured,” you whispered, smiling up at him. His blue eyes met yours. 

“A whole lifetime of this,” he murmured, returning your grin. “Of you. Of the sun. Of living,” he emphasized, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. It was beating like mad beneath your palm. 

“Here’s to all of it then, darling,” you replied before capturing his lips with yours.

***

TAGLIST: @call-me-nyxx, @tenderlyuniquepatrol, @arioneway, @twistedcutie3, @bloopthebat, @my-bunny-prince, @starlight-ipomoea, @iceice-baeby, @moonmaiden1996, @dark-star-exe, @campfull-of-weirdos, @yokaimoon, @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

[cevherien]

Our blood stains the future and my tortured senses

Yandere!Ellie Williams, | chp, i.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ After your mental decline and inevitable psychological collapse, Ellie gives you a taste of your new life, and whats more to come.

warnings. Smut, Porn With Plot, Yandere, Angst, Fluff, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy. Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Finger Sucking, Lesbian Sex, ww, Sapphic, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality Stockholm Syndrome,

a/n: finally out omg,,, chapter zero (of sorts) is here

Ellie knew she didn't have any other choice one way or the other, when the time came, she'd have to do it. Take you away, keep you somewhere safe from all that could harm you.

The musky, airless basement never felt this claustrophobic since your arrival; getting you to the edge with never ending panic attacks where you'd hold yourself back not to hyperventilate much and use up whatever breathable air was left in this hell hole. Lack of oxygen in your lungs making you feel dizzy and weaker than you already felt.

You were sick and hungry, enraged and betrayed. Cheeks stained with your dried tears, nose runny and mouth dry. It was a cold night. Fear and hunger getting the best of you.

How long has it been since Ellie, the girl you thought was the love of your life, the girl who couldn't dare hurt a single hair on your body had kidnapped you?

Days? Weeks? Years even? You've lost your sense of time here in this basement. The only thing you know for sure is that you lost the strength in you. At first you'd fight back, scream, refuse to eat or drink. Not speaking to her whatsoever, denying her of everything. Not even sparing her a glance.

Ellie was calm and collected throughout this entire process. Even to your surprise, since you know how violent and outraged she got when frustrated.

And oddly she wouldn't do anything to you against your will, at first atleast. Seemingly waiting for your outbursts and meltdowns to come to an end, then she'd strike.

Resolve fully broken, half conscious laying down on the cold concrete of the pit you dare call a basement, with the occasional visit of Ellie to check up on you to see if you're okay. Well shit you're not. Not since the day of your arrival.

You don't even remember her previous visits down, how she'd inject you of something after you completely reject any kind of supplement or food from her, or how she'd try to talk you out of your 'stubbornness' and how you needed to 'accept things as they are now'.

Nightmares and hallucinations, your mind must've been playing tricks on you with the isolation and your situation doing numbers on your mental. Seeing visions from the corner of your eye and waking up screaming in the middle of.. you don't even know. Going through psychosis while your brain blocks out the memories of your stay here from how harsh they had an affect on you, well naturally.

You don't remember anything she has told you throughout her visits or even when you had first opened your eyes to this place. It's all in a haze, memories foggy and grey. Dozing off whenever she tries to speak to you, closing off your senses as a defense mechanism.

Which, also near blocked your good memories with her, your past normalcy and happiness.

You felt dirty, head to toe. Not only by your physical state but your mental and psychological state too. How could she dehumanize you like this?

This couldn't be love, how could it ever be. But you were starting to believe it was.

-

Ellie knew she didn't have any other choice and one way or the other she'd have to do it. Take you away, keep you somewhere safe from all that could harm you.

It broke her heart too, seeing you in pain like that. But she had to, for your own good. It's all because she loves you and wants to protect you, wants you on her side forever. She just loved too much, cut her some slack. As if.

She gave you the alone time that you needed to accept your new circumstances, gave you her patience and her time too. Knew you'd crumble at one point. Come crawling back to her like you always do.

Ellie unlocks the trapdoor leading downstairs, to the basement, to your prison, coming in to do her daily check in. You were at your usual spot curled up, fingers cold and your skin an unhealthy pale yellow.

Walking towards you with the daily syringe of supplements, she kneels before your corpse-like spent body. You feel her presence and the movement, making you jump up -with much or less what energy you got left- but instead of pushing her away or kicking your feet, tears dwell your lash line. Tired. Worn out.

What would standing against this do you any good? You had no resistance left.

And guess, it was about time you get out of that shell now. Took you long enough, 5 weeks to be exact, but she'd happily wait five more if it means to be with you forever afterwards.

Her hand reaches out to cup your left cheek, you don't pull away. Shivering under her still perfectly intimate touch, even after everything she's done, still as warm as the day you fell in love with her for the first time.

”Oh angel..” you sniffle as her thumb soothingly caresses your chin. Softly nuzzling against her palm, you let loose a sob. A single tear roll down your cheeks, then one more, and more.

”Ellie,“ you sniffle between each word, ”Ellie I'm so exhau– sob `m so exhausted, please,“

Weary eyes settle on her relieved and content ones, almost like a puppy finally getting it's much anticipated treat. Restless nights has finally paid off.

”Come here,“ she pulls you into her arms, squeezing you tight almost as if you could slip away from her grasp, ”finally decided to be good now, princess?“

You nod your head like a makeshift bubblehead, ”Please.. please,“ almost like you were at the brink of another mental collapse- as if there was anything left to break down, all was in ruins anyway.

Her nose buried into your neck, feeling you all so close. Even though you smell like rust, dried blood and sweat, even your foul odor relaxing her muscles. Your filth wasn't something she was repulsed by, seen and felt way worse anyway. You were her divinity, every aspect of you was flawless. Even your perfect imperfections.

She pulls away after remaining like this for some time, then pushes your greasy unkept hair behind your ear and softly whispers, ”I'm so glad baby, so so glad honey.“

Feeling lightheaded by her breath hot on your face, soon you find yourself pressed against her wet mouth, lips warm and soft against your chapped dirty ones. You let her guide your lips, losing yourself in her touch, not even realizing how drowsy you've been getting. Slowly feeling yourself slip away. Passing out on her arms

Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

-

The distant but close sound of still water and the warm embrace of the bathtub pick at you to open your eyes, faintly. Lids still half closed you try to make out whats going on, why it is so calm and why do you feel so euphoric.. Did you die, was this heaven?

Slightly making out the delightful shine of light wherever you were, it wasn't dim like that fucked up jail of room. Nor did it smell bad of rot and old spices. It smelled like a spring breeze when the sun shined brightest in a vogue haze.

The tender bosom of it's flow making you hazier, all the worries gone without question. Where were you anyways? You didn't give much thought to it though. Instead with heavy arms you moved your fingers through the water, a smile tugging at your face. You felt like a little baby, your head felt fuzzy -almost inebriated- until you finally noticed Ellie.

You were so out of it that you didn't even realize she was there all along. Her hands were busy with some materials -yet, you didn't give much thought to that either. Maybe unable to do so would be a better way to put it.- Soon she turned back to you, hands full with hygiene products and brushes. A razor and some cotton too. Softest towels you could ever find in a place like this. Pretty.

Your head falls to the side, pouting lips opening involuntarily. You look at her with your weary but rather relaxed eyes. Her eyes meet yours in a spark, kneels before the tub and puts her palm to your cheeks.

Neither of you spoke, but for different reasons. You felt defeated, weak, feeble... She was excited, stoked to finally have you give in.

Soon, she puts some of the lotion to the bath water with the droplet, then puts the shampoo bar in her hand and gathers up enough to massage it to your scalp. Her hands were gentle. She was going easy on you, slowly washing your hair so then she can continue to care for your other needs.

That must be then where you fell asleep again, she couldn't blame you. You needed rest. A lot of it.

-

When you wake up, you felt the gentle touch of the back of her index finger caressing the apple of your cheek. You flutter your lashes and mildly bat them to open your eyes to her. Seeing the contagious smile on her lips makes you question everything you went through. Was she still the Ellie you knew and loved, your Ellie that you adored oh so much? You felt crazy for thinking that.

"Morning angel, slept well?"

You get yourself higher with your elbows, looking at her curiously. She was acting as if none of that even happened. Maybe making you feel strange for still tugging on the past. Your face sours a little, getting uneasy at your own thoughts.

Ofcourse Ellie notices "Shhh," she mutters almost to pacify you, "You're okay now, with me." her calloused hands find the small of your back and pulls you close, laying you down on top of her.

"Ellie-"

You were really too sweet for this world, a naive little girl, a little bunny in a dirty and dangerous world that would prey on you. Hurt you and take you away from her. She nodded to herself about taking you, convinced she did the right thing.

"Angel?" she leaves a small kiss to the crown of your head while her thumb drew circles to your skin.

You could hear her heartbeat from laying directly on top of Ellie, head to her chest. You look up, she drops a peck to the tip of your nose. You felt dizzy and complaint. Must be the drugs.

Everything was happening way too fast.

"I made you breakfast."

"T-thanks.." Breakfast meant another dose of meds, her service meant payback.

Ellie's hands trail lower, holding onto your ass. She had dressed you in Satin, they were oversized. She tugged at your shorts to pull them higher, revealing your buttcheeks. You felt the cameltoe of its material on your folds with her yank, no underwear. Ofcourse.

A small gasp escapes your lips when her hands slide inside the confines of the material to grope your butt, each hand kneading your ass inside your shorts.

"Ellie,–" feeling hot all over, you groan. Pretty sure you weren't supposed to be getting aroused by your kidnapper. But you were a simple girl.

Her hands continue their exploration, middle and ring finger finding your slit and teasing your hole, making you involuntarily rise your ass to meet her hand and open your legs wider. You try to hold in the breathy moans trying to escape you, yet fail.

You yelp when she turns you on your back and sets you down to the mattress, caging you over with her arms at either side of you. Wetness had started to pool on the material of the shorts already, giving a darker stain on its faucet.

She leans in to kiss you and you reciprocate, tongue and spit covering your lips, her hands undoing the buttons of your top to leave you bare. Once the fabric is off you feel the cold air hit you, making your nipples hard and sensitive. You felt so needy and aroused, one part of you wanted to believe it wasn't because of her drugging you but because you genuinely wanted this. A girl can dream.

Her kiss deepened while she pawed at the elastic waistband of your shorts to lower them and reveal your pussy that she missed oh so much. You help her take it off, once removed she forces your legs apart and dips her head down to your tits, suckling and nibbling at your nipples, leaving kisses along your areola and biting down hickeys to the fat of your breasts.

She was purposefully avoiding your aching cunt, puffy lips ready to be played with. But she wanted you to know how much you needed her. Your want for her tenfolding with her tease and shunning.

"Ellie please,-" that's been the only words you've been uttering, funny enough.

"Please what, angel? Use your words with me." She stops her attack on your tits "Let me hear you say it."

You gulp down your dignity, if any was left to begin with. "Need you to take care of me.. down there, please–"

"Down where?" her hands settle down on your thighs still keeping them apart. She never breaks eye contact.

Taking a deep breath, "My p-pussy, please- Need you to play with my pussy s-so bad."

"Good girl."

With that she spits at your pussy, not that you needed it, you were as wet as it gets. Pussy so eager it would cream on her abductors hands.

She uses her knees to keep you apart while one hand lands on your mound and the other holds the side of your waist. Fingers graze your wetness and tease your clit lightly, not giving you enough friction whatsoever.

You whine and she decides to not make you wait any longer, thumb firmly caressing circles to your clit and two fingers aligned at your fluttering hole.

"Missed your sweet pussy, baby." without warning she shoves to digits into your pussy, two knuckles deep, then to the hilt, works you open with her fingers. Your slick making it all the easier.

"Missed it so much," leans in and gives you a sloppy open mouthed kiss, tongue urging itself in. You accept her intrusion, embrace it and take it on.

Fingers find the mushy spongy spot deep and played with it, making you cry out and tremble under her. Turning you into a moaning mess in no time. She was playing you like a puppet. And you happily obliged.

"So good, Ellie so good please don't stop–" you beg, eyes watering from how much you feel, you've been locked down for too long that you missed touch. Missed pleasure.

Her hands take up the pace, moving in and out of you faster, you push down on your heels and crumble the sheets under your clenching nails, digging down and mouth agape, you'd almost start drooling.

She pushes you over the edge with one more stroke to your clit and you cum instantly, either because you haven't had a orgasm in months or a good one ever because this one feels euphoric. Overwhelming.

She doesn't stop though, riding through your orgasm with an even faster pace, making your already oversensitive pussy throb with overstimulation. Making you moan, hard.

She pulls her fingers out but not before earning a breathy whine from you and gathers your slick juices on her two fingers, raising them up to her lips and giving it a kitten lick but stopping herself from sucking it, instead she looks down on you and decides you should have the honors.

"Baby, come here" she leans into you, squishing your cheeks together and forces your lips into a deeper pout, expecting you to open your mouth.

"Open up, say aah." And you do so, obviously. Cause you are a good little girl for her, aren't you now?

She slides in her two fingers that were inside of you, slick with your juices which you greedily suck on, tasting yourself on her fingers.

Once you're done, she pulls her hand away, your lips and her fingers linking with a trail of saliva.

"Good job baby," Then she laps at your lips and mouth, feeling all of your slick from all over your body at once. When she pulls away you are a boneless mess.

Lovestruck, addicted.

Guess this is your life now, not so bad is it?

[toorumlk]

Hi I'm so freaking obsessed with your twitter.

Also what's your favorite Romione moment in the books and why?

ohohoho thank you, friend, i’m quite proud of some of the stuff i’ve posted on there B)

and as for my favourite romione moment in the books, when i read the question i first blanked out for a couple minutes, thinking of a bunch of smaller, sillier scenes. but then i remembered that i do have a favourite and it’s from chapter 11 of DH, when remus visited the trio at grimmauld place and filled them in on he goings on of the war -including the implementation of the muggle-born registry. ron’s response upon hearing this (after his immediate outrage) was

and it’s not just the hand holding and the “‘you won’t have a choice’ said Ron fiercely” that played out so vividly in my head like this:

but this scene demonstrates so perfectly the political weight of this pairing (muggleborn/blood traitor) which i think is the immovable narrative foundation of romione. all of their silly moments and idiosyncrasies aside, there is genuine narrative purpose behind this love. ron has always had an astute understanding of the blood supremacist politics of the wizarding world (need i remind that he was ready to curse shitco at the ripe age of 12 for calling hermione the in-universe slur) and just how wrong it is. ron is a pure-blood wizard and by design has so much privilege in this society bc of it, but by virtue of having parents like arthur and molly, he’s grown up knowing the importance of fighting against blood supremacist ideology. always.

so, after hearing about the completely horrifying muggleborn registry ("People won't let this happen," said Ron. "It is happening, Ron," said Lupin.), he immediately turns to his muggleborn best friend and love of his life and says “i’m making you a family member, i’m going to use the protection my family-name has and use it to protect you from the awful injustice of our situation, no you won’t have a choice but to let me help you”

i remember having such a… visceral reaction while reading this scene like holy shit .. these kids, THESE KIDS!!!!! this is the bone-marrow-deep love that makes me feel insane. this dynamic of the blood traitor/muggleborn always there, from CoS all the way to the epilogue. We get to see that romione is the story’s pure blood/muggleborn that finally made it (rip jily and tedromeda :(). we see it in hermione keeping her muggle last name after they get married (oh my god these two actually got married) and we also see it in the hyphenated Granger-Weasley (granger being first!) in their kids’ last names (oh my gof these two had TWO kids). they are a true symbol of change and progress in their world.

also this is one of those moments where i’m so glad that our only window to romiones relationship development is through harry’s narration because it so brilliantly shows the readers this blossoming love story instead of just telling us about it because harry obviously doesn’t have access to the inner thoughts of his two best friends, he can only witness them fall deeper in love. showing the audience acts of love is always more powerful and my god is this an act of showing your love to your beloved.

(and not to go on an unrelated tangent, but this is exactly why i could never ship my girl hermione w any DE or DE-adjacent character. no fucking way. not when the concept of a muggle-born registry exists in this universe, not when the antagonists in this story wish to eradicate people like her from their society. idk about the rest of y’all but im going to keep taking the narrative seriously bc the worldbuilding obviously has real world ties/implications and i like engaging with the canon. tangently to the tangent, i saw someone (a ron basher) on twitter say that ron, OUR RON FROM THE ABOVE EXCERPT, was “one bad day away from becoming a death eater” ohhhh ohhh i ought to beat you with sticks bc HUH? this is the same kid who said he would’ve boarded the train back to kings cross if he got sorted to slytherin, the house notorious for birthing DEs, at the tender age of 11)

anyways, all this to say is that romione is incredibly, realistically, materially romantic and i love them and i love their love <3

[dulltoned]

Ablaze and John Dory

These are just some snippets of my Ablaze and John Dory headcanons that are scattered around the Trolls Discord.

Ablaze despises BroZone and he doesn't even try to hide it. The second they're off the stage after their reunion show with BroZone at Vacay Island all happy pretenses are dropped.

John Dory, the overzealous and oblivious bastard that he is, comes up to Ablaze and claps him on the shoulder to compliment his performance but before he can even get a word out Ablaze snarls and shrugs him off with a harsh "Don't touch me."

JD only has time to look affronted and open his mouth to retort before Ablaze stalks off to go throw his arm over Branch's shoulders and ruffle his hair- which Branch will not let John do- with a bright smile and an "Amazing as always, B." on his tongue.

Thus began the rivalry.

Ablaze and John Dory fight a lot, obviously, even if it's in the most petty ways that can fly under the radar. Ablaze will hold the door for everyone but John Dory, John Dory will invite every other member of Kismet except Ablaze out with BroZone, etc. One day, after John Dory does something else stupid and petty like give only Ablaze "constructive criticism" on his performance Ablaze just leans in, looks John Dory dead in the eyes, and says "I will be there for him long after you're dead in the ground." and just walks away.

And just for fun take a little snippet that will be written into a Familiar and New chapter or maybe even it's own story somewhere down the line:

John Dory is still talking but Ablaze can't hear the vitriol spewing from his bastard mouth over the battle cry his heart was pounding in his ears. Who the hell did this troll think he was to barge into their space and attack one of their own? Branch's shoulders are rising up to meet his drooping ears and he has this haunted and scared look on his face that only feeds into the volcanic fury burning through Ablaze's veins.

"I don't even know why I try with you," John Dory hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Branch makes this wounded noise deep in the back of his throat. Ablaze sees red. With an outraged snarl he lunges over the couch and tackles John Dory to the ground, uncaring of the startled cries that ring out around him. He reels his fist back and slams it into the bastard's face, relishing in the crack he feels beneath his knuckles. John Dory flails, unprepared, and Ablaze uses the opportunity to hit him again, and again, and again and a sick pleasure sparks in his gut at the sight of John Dory's face getting progressively bloodier.

Arms scramble for purchase on his shoulders, his vest, even tangling desperately into the hair at the nape of his neck but Ablaze fights against their hold and struggles to get a few more hits in. No one gets to talk to his band like that. He'll be damned if he sits back and lets John Dory open his vile mouth to say one more twisted criticism to his little brother. Branch was his.

"'Blaze!" Branch's panicked voice cuts through the rage and he finally lets the paws drag him away from John's trembling body with a low growl

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 6. The Adults are Talking

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: Sugar finds her voice amongst the people who want to see her fail.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Breeding kink, Sugar's parents are the worst and treat her like garbage, Sugar finally finds her voice and stands up to her father, Some angst, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: And here we go, the chapter where Sugar and Joel finally face off with her parents. This does edge onto angst, as I really wanted to showcase just how Sugar's upbringing really affected her mental health, and how she overcomes it. I cried writing this chapter, because I know how it feels to have people in your life just waiting for you to fuck up, and it's something Sugar has had to deal with all of her life. Honestly, this chapter makes me nervous because I know you all are expecting all of the fluff and smut that Joel and Sugar should be having, but I promise this will probably be the only chapter with heavy stuff. It'll be smooth sailing after this!

"So, I heard an interesting rumor floating around the club lately."

"Good morning to you too, Mother," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Who's the poor unfortunate soul this time?"

There's a brief pause before your mom responds, her voice almost hesitant. "Well, darling, you know I usually don't pay attention to the ladies and their gossip, but-"

"Just tell me already, Mom!" you exclaim, turning into the office parking lot.

"Well," she starts, "I heard that Joel Miller has gotten himself a... what do you call them? A Sugar Baby? Marcia told me that Lenore from Neiman Marcus said they had-" she clears her throat, "sex," she whispers, "in the dressing room! How scandalous! I heard she's a pretty little young thing! I swear, if that was my daughter, I would die of embarrassment!"

You slam on the brakes suddenly, your eyes widening in shock. Someone honks behind you in response, but you can't pay it any mind. The blood rushes to your ears as you start to hyperventilate.

"Sugar? Are you there? Is it true? Have you noticed anything at work lately?" you hear your mother from across the line. "Hello?!"

You take a deep breath, pulling into the nearest empty stall. "I'm here, Mom," you say shakily, cutting the ignition and resting your head on the steering wheel.  

"Well, it's shameful, that sort of behavior," your mom continues, "It's a good thing your father and I raised you right!" she tsks, and you imagine her shaking her head in disgust as she inspects her nails. "Besides, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to you, baby."

That's what gets your attention. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, baby. That kind of behavior isn't something I would associate with you," she coos, "besides, the girl they said Joel was with was really pretty-"

"Are you implying that I'm not attractive enough for someone like Joel?" you ask incredulously, your hands gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. "What if that girl in the rumor was me, Mom? What then? Would you actually die from embarrassment?"

"... but it wasn't you, Sugar. I raised you better than that, no matter how pretty you could be. I mean, if you just weren't so plain, maybe I would believe that it was you that was in that dressing room with him, but those kinds of girls, baby, that ain't you-"

"Mom," you sigh, feeling the impending headache that usually accompanies conversations with her, "I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" your mom sputters, "Don't forget about the dinner tonight!"

"What dinner?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot!" your mother exclaims, a hint of outrage in her voice. "It's our Ruby wedding anniversary! I sent you an invite. How could you forget? Your father is looking forward to seeing you. Now that you have your big girl job and live on your own, acting like we don't exist. You would think after paying for your education, you would be more grateful-"

"Fine, Mom, I'll be there! What time is it?" you cut her off, the tears already forming at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to be subjected to another one of her guilt trips, fully aware that she'll win, every time. "And I assume it'll be cocktail attire?"

"Oh, yes," your mother purrs, "At 6. I'll make sure the caterers add a place setting for you. Do you need to borrow anything of mine to wear? I'm not sure if you were able to shed those ten pounds I've been telling you to lose. I don't know if anything I have would fit those hips of yours-"

"Two."

"What was that, darling?" you take note of the hesitation in your mother's voice.

"Tell the caterers to put two more settings at the table, Mom."

"Why?" your mother asks, clearly in shock. "Sugar, are you seeing someone? Who is it? Is it someone we know?"

"I guess you'll have to wait to find out," you say, a hint of satisfaction in your tone. "See you at 6!" you say hurriedly, hanging up before she could pry further.  

"Fuck." You mutter, slamming your head against the steering wheel once more. "Fuck my life."

Groaning, you snatch up your phone and purse, slamming the door of your Tesla as you stride into the office. With a determined look etched on your face, you attempt to breeze past Connie, resolute in avoiding another interrogation as you navigate down the hall.

"Good morning, Sugar!" she chirps. "So, about yesterday-"

"Not now, Connie!" you mutter, briskly pushing past her, laser-focused on reaching Joel's office. He's already at his desk, his gaze intensely fixed on his iPad, an apple pencil dangling from his mouth as he reviews schematics. You slam his office door behind you, his eyes darting toward you as you drop your purse on the floor. You discard your blazer, shove his office chair back, and settle onto his lap. Burying your face into his neck, the tears you've been holding back start to flow earnestly from your eyes.

Joel's arms instinctively wrap around you, drawing you close as he gently pulls back to get a good look at your face. "Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks, his face etched with genuine concern. "Did Connie corner you in the lounge again? I swear Tess gave her the warning of a lifetime yesterday-"

"Are you busy tonight?" you cut him off, gasping for air, the weight of anxiety from your mother's conversation finally sinking in. "I know this is really last minute, but my mother-"

"Baby," Joel repeats, his hands firm on your arms, steadying you. "Breathe. What happened?"

"They know, everyone in Austin knows about us," you admit with a sniffle. "My mother called, mentioning that her friends at the club were gossiping about you having a sugar baby, and I completely forgot it's my parents' wedding anniversary tonight. I might have told her to add another place setting for you..." you stammer, "... and now I have nothing to wear. I can't borrow anything from her because I didn't lose the ten pounds she asked me to"

"Easy, Sugar," Joel murmurs, his lips grazing your forehead as his hands trace up your arms, providing a soothing touch. "Start from the top," he suggests, leaning back in his chair and gently pulling you against his chest, his fingers rhythmically rubbing your back. "You spoke to your mother today, and she mentioned a rumor going around about us, right?"

"Lenore might have let slip to one of her clients about our... moment in the dressing room," you confess against his chest.

You feel him sigh deeply, the gentle rumble of his chest against your face. "If they only knew that wasn't the case," he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. "You know that, right? You're everything to me, baby. You ain't no sugar baby, not to me."

"I know, Joel," you reply with a tiny sob. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less, though. It's like they want to see us fail, see me fail."

Joel pulls you away again, a serious look in his eyes. "Are you ashamed of this? of us? Do you see yourself as how they see you? Do you think I care what those old bitches say about me?"

You shake your head frantically. "No, Joel-"

"No one gave a damn about my life before all of this," he gestures toward his office, taking your hand in his, "and now that I finally have some worth in their eyes, it's like... I'm cattle being led to slaughter. I'll never get used to it."

"I grew up surrounded by that shit my entire life," you whisper sadly. "Every move I made was up for debate – what clothes I wore, who I decided to bring into my life. It was always dissected and analyzed as if everything I did could have a double meaning. I hated it, this constant scrutiny. I always had to be 'good,' never step out of line, and always know my place."

"Is that why you always felt the need to hide yourself all the time?"

"It's what made things easier, honestly." You fiddle with the button of his flannel. "I hated the attention, I hated that my mother would go into my closet every day and make sure I wore certain things that wouldn't embarrass her, that she would only feed me rabbit food so I wouldn't 'let myself go'. She came from nothing, you know? She was my father's secretary, getting swept away with his money and his connections. She was in my place, once. You would think that she would show me mercy." You laugh to yourself, bitterly. "I was always an embarrassment in my parent's eyes, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not driven enough. I worked my ass off, and they still treat me like they did when I was a kid. "

"Yet, here we are," Joel murmurs, a gentle understanding in his eyes as he reaches to caress your cheek. "You've overcome so much, and you're not defined by their standards. You're your own person, and you've earned your worth on your own terms."

You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his hand. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees past all that, someone who appreciates me for who I am. Crazy family and all."

Joel smiles tenderly. "Well, you have, and I see a remarkable person in front of me. The past is just that – the past. We're building our own story now, and you're not defined by anyone else's expectations."

You smile sadly at Joel. "I hate thinking about this, about my parents. It always puts me in a terrible mood. Can we talk about something else, please?"

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Joel breathes, "Do you want me to help you forget?" He helps you onto your feet, leaning your body against the edge of his desk. He pushes the hem of your dress up your thighs, the edge of your stockings being held by a garter exposed as your breath hitches on your throat. "Fucking exquisite," he says, his lips kissing your thigh. "What do you need?" he repeats, almost begging.   

"I need you to fuck the pain away, Joel," you whisper, spreading your legs further. "Help me forget, please," you beg, your back arching as his hands travel up beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers make their way up to your core, and his fingertips graze the gusset of your thong, adding pressure as he traces along your slit through the wet fabric. Your legs start to shake as his finger slips beneath the fabric, the edge of his fingertips probing at your entrance. Joel hums in satisfaction. He slowly inches his fingers into you. "Do you think you can come, just like this?"

"Yes," you moan, hitching your leg higher as you place your foot on his desk chair. He slides his fingers into you, the squelch of your wetness echoing throughout his office walls as he prods into you, his eyes dark as he watches his fingers being swallowed whole in your pussy. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Should we check something off from my list?" he asks, moving his fingers away from your pussy as you whine from the loss of sensation, putting the glistening digits into his mouth, savoring your taste.  

You nod eagerly. "Yes, Joel. Please-"

"Turn around for me, Sugar," he softly commands. "... and grab onto something." You oblige, slowly turning so you are facing his desk, his hands pushing your back so your chest is resting on its surface. Your hands grab onto the edge of it, pushing your ass higher as he lifts the hem of your dress, exposing your ass. You swear you can imagine his smirk as his hands travel up the globes of your asscheeks, his grasp harsh, squeezing the plumpness of it. He grips your thighs and spreads them wider, lifting your ass to be level with his cock. He starts to grind into your core, your body trembling in his wake.  

He hooks his fingers through the elastic edge of your panties, ripping it off your hips. You turn your head to face him, watching as he pockets the scrap of lace into his back pocket. "You won't be needing this," he whispers, and you watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing it down along with his boxer briefs, his cock swollen and leaking at the tip. You gasp at the sight, rolling your bottom lip against your teeth. He rubs his erection through your folds, notching the tip of your entrance. "I'm gonna need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, Sugar?"

He slides in before you can reply, and your voice gets caught in your throat, the feeling of him inside of you so delicious you moan out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you slowly, deeply. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good, so fucking tight!" he harshly grabs onto your hips as he begins to cant his hips against yours, the angle he set hitting you just right. The entire desk starts to shake as he pounds into you, and you have half of a mind to say something, but Joel continues his pace, his head thrown back, eyes closed.  Thank god for the carpet, you think to yourself.  

He gathers your hair, pulling your body towards his as he continues to thrust harshly into you. "You're so good like this, baby. So fucking good for me, right Sugar?" he rips your dress from the front, the buttons flying throughout his office, pulling your breasts from the cups of your bra. He's pumping into you relentlessly, his mouth latching onto your neck. He grabs your breasts, kneading and squeezing. "One of these days you'll let me fuck these," he breathes in your ear.

"Joel, my dress!" you exclaim. "I can't walk around the office with my tits out!"

"We're going shopping after this, baby, don't you worry. You can wear the shirt off my back for all I care, gonna have to teach Lenore a lesson for having a big fucking mouth-"

"Can we not talk about another woman when you're balls deep inside of me?" you whine, meeting his thrusts as you pull on his shirt, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible, not wanting the entire office to hear Joel railing you into oblivion. "Fuck Joel, can you fuck me harder?"

Joel halts, pressing his cock deep inside, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. He reaches behind him, rolling his desk chair towards him to sit as he pulls you onto his lap, impaling you. "You're gonna have to be real quiet for me, okay baby?" he whispers against your throat. "We shouldn't be doing this, but I can't fucking get enough of you. Want to claim you on every fucking inch of this office, do you want that, baby? for me to fuck you on every single surface of this office?"

"Yes!" you scream, hopping on Joel's cock as he thrusts up into you, the position allowing you to feel all of him. "Fuck Joel, I feel so fucking full, how are you this massive? Fuck-"

"I'm going to fill you up, make you take all of my cum, make you mine completely. Remember when I sang you that song all those years ago? I looked into your eyes and swore I saw my future children in your eyes, fuck, It's all I've thought about," he groans, and it stirs something deep inside of you, the thought of your children, with Joel's brown eyes and smile, running around in the house, laughing, playing, living a life you were denied as a child. "Are you going to be the mother of my children?"

"Yes! Yes, fucking fill me up, make me yours, I can take it, I can take it! Fuck a baby into me, baby, I'll be so good, so so good-"

Joel's hand goes to your clit, his fingers rough against the nub, rubbing it furiously as you chase your release. "Then fucking come for me, Sugar," he commands. Come for me on my cock and I'll give you the entire fucking world-" He covers your mouth with his hands, his thrusts slow and deep as you fall apart completely. He braces your hands on the edge of the desk as he kicks his chair backward, pounding into you as he chases his release, his face in your neck as he sucks on your pulse point. "You think it'll take this time? You gonna give me baby?"

"Yes! Fill me up, I want all of it!"

Joel groans at that, thrusting into you once more as he falls apart, coming into you deep. You feel his cum fill you so much to the point that it starts to leak out of you. Joel keeps himself inside, panting heavily against your neck. "Fuck baby, I love you so fucking much." He kisses your cheek, pulling himself out of you slowly as he slumps onto his chair once more, his head thrown back in exhaustion. He unbuttons his flannel, throwing it towards you. "Put this on," he says, shrugging his jacket on as you straighten yourself. You raise your eyebrows at him as you button on his shirt, drowning in it. Joel gives you a wry smile. "Cancel all of your appointments, we're going shopping."

"Oh yeah? Just drop work, just like that?"

"Yeah," he replies nonchalantly. "I think it's time we visit our good friend Lenore. Have a little chat."

"Are you ready?" you nervously ask Joel as the two of you stand at the front door. "We can always turn around, say that I'm sick or something-" You fiddle with the hem of your dress, straightening yourself. "Don't you think this dress is a little much?" you ask absentmindedly.

"I think the real question is if you're ready, baby," he replies, a small reassuring smile on his face. "I've been telling you that I've been wanting to scream from the rooftops, yelling that you're mine-"

"I am yours like you are mine." You smile, placing your hands on his chest as you pull him towards you, his lips meeting yours. "I've never been so sure in my life, Joel. I think it's time we stop fucking around, right?"

"I've been yours since the first day I saw you, I was a goner-" he leans in for another kiss as you greedily accept, kissing him deeper, and deeper, and his hands travel lower, and lower, and your hands travel higher, and higher, until they reach the hair at the nape of his neck, and you're pulling, pulling, pulling, getting lost in his embrace. How can something that feels so good and so pure be so terrible to those around you?

"Sugar?!" Your mother's surprised voice slices through the air like a warning shot, abruptly shattering the enchantment between you and Joel. "Mr. Miller?!?" Her exclamation hangs in the tense moment, her gaping mouth and contorted expression revealing a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Mom, I-" you stammer, clearly struggling for words.

"Ma'am," Joel interjects, cutting through the tension. He gracefully presents her with the bouquet that rests on the bench, the vivid orange lilies contrasting against the soft pink of the Rhododendrons he had chosen at the florist. "How do you say 'Fuck you, I've won?'" he whispers with a smirk to the florist while sliding his black Amex across the counter. The resulting display is a beautiful arrangement, yet it carries an unmistakably direct message – as if declaring, "I love and desire your daughter, but I loathe you, so stand the hell back." Joel continues, "It's been a long time; I see the roof is holding up nicely-"

"Yes, well," your mother chokes, hastily grabbing the bouquet from his outstretched hand. "These are beautiful, Mr. Miller-"

"Come on, we're past pleasantries. Call me Joel," he smirks. "Happy anniversary, by the way... and thanks for the invite. Sugar said you guys were talking about me earlier today, so she thought she could surprise you by bringing me along with her."

"Joel. Right," your mother mutters to herself. "I was just asking how she was getting along working with you since she's been so busy, she barely comes around now!" She clears her throat, straightening herself, and glances at you, her eyes darting to the tightness of your dress. "Sugar, baby, what a... beautiful dress you have there. Are you not cold with how short it is?"

Joel squeezes your hand in his, giving you a wink. "Doesn't she look stunning in Herve Leger? Lenore has a great eye, right?"

Your mother fidgets nervously, chuckling to herself. "Lenore at Neiman Marcus? Yes, yes, well... she certainly knows how to flatter the female figure. I wasn't aware you were a client of hers-"

"Well, I had to introduce her to Sugar, you know, considering she always takes good care of me and my girls," he muses, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. You could swear you see your mother gulp at the gesture, her gaze dropping to her nails as she struggles to formulate a response.

"Well, what are we doing out here? Come in, come in!" she says suddenly as if her role as a doting, perfect entertaining housewife finally reboots in her brain. "Sugar's father will be surprised to see you after all these years, you made quite a name for yourself with your multi-million business-"

"Yeah, we did okay, I expect that this government job that we're bidding on might just push us over a billion next year if all goes well." He smiles widely, putting his arm around your shoulder. "Shall we, Sugar?" 

You nod aimlessly, letting Joel gently guide you towards the dining room, the laughter of your parents' friends echoing through the foyer. Your body starts to shake slightly, the nervousness of facing your father gradually taking over.

"Stop shaking, baby. I'm right here, alright? I ain't gonna leave your side for a second, okay?" Joel whispers suddenly in your ear, pressing a reassuring kiss to your hair. You nod once more, tightening your grasp on Joel's hand, finding comfort in his presence.

"Everyone, you remember my daughter, Sugar?" your mother announces abruptly as you enter the dining room, her gaze immediately meeting your father's as she holds up the bouquet. "Joel bought us a lovely arrangement. I'm just going to find a vase. Why don't you sit by your father, baby?" A wave of judgmental eyes from your parents' friends descends upon both of you, and you can't ignore the audible gasps of shock that fill the suddenly quiet room.

"Joel Miller," your dad suddenly remarks, his eyes narrowing at your clasped hands. "Now, that's a face I didn't expect to see again." His gaze lingers on yours, a subtle twitch in his eye revealing his displeasure as he presses his lips together. "Sugar, care to explain why your boss is gracing us with his presence tonight?"

"Uh-" you stammer, closing your eyes briefly. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Joel."

The sound of glass breaks in the distance, your mother's surprised gasp shortly following, as if she was hovering past the kitchen in an attempt to eavesdrop on the inevitable showdown between your Father and Joel. You see your mother's maid run towards the door, excusing herself as she attempts to help your mother. You see your mother's friend from the club whispering to the man beside her, shaking her head as she links two and two together, a knowing smirk on the man's face as he looks at the both of you.  

"I see," your father responds, adjusting his collar to maintain composure. "Well, what's keeping you both standing there? Take a seat!" he commands, a forced smile directed at his friends. Joel moves to the chair beside your father, a playful raise of his eyebrows as he settles in, and you follow suit in the adjacent seat.

"Sir," Joel murmurs, his hand extended for a shake. Your father eyes the offered hand, clearing his throat before accepting it, engaging in a handshake with Joel. "It's been what, ten years?"

"Has it truly been that long? I recall warning you to steer clear of my daughter even then," he retorts wryly, sipping his drink leisurely.

"Honey," your mom interjects shakily, taking her seat beside you, opposite your father. "Our guests might prefer not to dwell on the past-"

"Dad, stop." You say softly, your head cast down. The emotions that you are going through are reminiscent of the emotions you felt when you were a kid, and you find yourself anxiously fiddling with your hands under the table, your bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please stop."

"What was that?" your dad asks menacingly, setting his fork down harshly. "If you have something to say, you might as well look at me! How did I end up with such a weak-minded naive little girl who opens her legs at the first rich old man she can find-"

"That's enough." Joel cuts in suddenly, his fists clenched together tightly, his knuckles white.  

As you glance at your mother from the corner of your eyes, you notice a slight tremor at the edge of her mouth. It's at that moment that you realize you share a vulnerable connection with her. Your mother looks just as horrified as you feel, her hands shaking while your father continues his tirade. The tears start to well up at the corners of your eyes, making your vision blurry. It's a tough moment, and you can't help but see a reflection of your own emotions in your mother's eyes.

"Tell me Miller, how long did you wait to seduce my daughter after you hired her at your firm?"

"Honey-" your mother interjects, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. "We have guests-"

"Or how long did you take until you seduced poor Mr. Miller here?" your Father spits, shaking his head in disbelief, his gaze going to your mother's shaking form. "What can I say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

"THATS ENOUGH!" you suddenly scream, slamming your fists on the table. You wipe the tears from your eyes, not caring about the mess it'll make at the makeup that the woman at the Laura Mercier counter meticulously placed upon your face earlier when Joel took you on an impromptu shopping trip for your cocktail dress. "Just stop it, STOP IT!"

Your father rises from his seat, his eyes drunkenly narrowed at you as he points at Joel. "You know, when they were talking about the little slut that was fucking Joel Miller at some dressing room who looked a lot like my daughter, I thought to myself, 'No, it couldn't be my little girl, she should know better', but then I see you in front of me, wearing that," he motions to your dress, "Maybe I misjudged my daughter after all. Congratulations, I guess, you managed to sleep your way to the top, just like your mother-"

"I said THATS ENOUGH!" you scream, rising from your seat, meeting your father's gaze.  

"Baby," your mother calls out in near tears. "Just let it go, you know how your father gets when he's drunk-"

But it's like you can't hear her.

"So it's okay for you, a rich man in a powerful position to 'seduce' a young woman, make her your wife, and force her into a life where she plays the doting perfect housewife, never allowed to pursue her dreams, always under your thumb? Is it okay for you to think so poorly of your child, your flesh and blood because I decided to fall in love with someone you don't approve of?" you're full-on crying now, not caring that you have an audience, tired of being that scared little girl who never spoke up, never had a voice of her own.  

"I did everything right. I wore the clothes you wanted, stayed away from any scandal, followed the rules, and earned an advanced degree at a decent school—all on my own merit. Only to be reduced to being seen as your 'little girl', unable to stand on my own two feet? Is it so bad that finally, I found someone patient enough to wait for me? Do you have any idea how long I've loved Joel? Only for you to tear us apart? Joel Miller is not like you, Father. He's built himself up from the bottom, proving himself to everyone who doubted him. He works tirelessly, supports his family and friends, and is the best boss anyone could ask for. And most importantly, he loves me, never gave up on me, and worked hard to prove himself. But here's the truth—I would have loved him even without all of this," you motion to the opulent interior, "richer or poorer. He never had to prove himself to me. I love him, and that's all that matters."

You glance down at Joel, who's clearly in shock by your confession. His mouth is agape, but there's awe in his eyes, and you know he's proud of you for standing your ground and finally finding your voice. He clears his throat, taking a sip of wine. "Thank you, baby," he whispers. You nod, wiping away the last of your tears.

Surveying the now silent room, your mother's eyes downcast, and your father staring into the distance from his seat, you offer a smile. "I apologize for the outburst, but I believe Joel and I have overstayed our welcome. I'm sorry for disrupting your dinner, Mom and Dad, but I don't think I belong here anymore." You raise your hand to Joel, who is already two steps behind you, and he rises from his seat, taking your hand in his. "I won't be part of a family that doesn't accept me any longer. Let's go, Joel."

"Sugar, baby, please-" you can hear your mom call out behind you as you lead Joel away from the dining room, determined to get the hell out of there. You hear your father telling your mother to sit down, to just let it go.  

"What are we gonna do now, baby?" Joel asks, engulfing you in a hug, and kissing the top of your head as you stand in the foyer.  

There's a glint in your eyes as you take his face in your hands, meeting his lips in a kiss.  

"Do you want to dish out some sweet fucking revenge?" you ask, your hands traveling down to his bulge in his slacks. "Give my poor father one last parting gift?"

His eyebrows raise in curiosity, groaning as you grab onto his cock harshly. "What did you have in mind, baby?"

"Follow me," you whisper, looking around to make sure no one is around, grabbing his hands as you lead him up the stairs, stopping at the door of your father's study. "Shall we?" you ask, opening the door. Joel nods eagerly, a small smirk on his face as he follows you into the room, closing the door behind him. You start to strip out of your dress, pushing the fabric slowly as Joel watches from behind. You push the fabric off your hips, sliding it from the slopes of your ass until the dress falls onto the ground, only leaving you in the black lace thong you asked Lenore to get you, a surprise for Joel. Joel groans in satisfaction as you lean against your father's desk, a wicked smile on your face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you breathe, "Are you going to fuck me on my father's desk or not?"

Joel smiles, unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you would never fucking ask, baby."

Taglist:@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa, @laurrrra, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @missladym1981 (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

[biteofcherry]

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice 

~ * ~ 

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely. 

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed. 

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod. 

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal? 

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst. 

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress. 

It made you sticky instead of sick. 

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored. 

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin. 

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened. 

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again. 

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense. 

So you decided to channel everything onto the job. 

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal. 

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity. 

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces. 

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her. 

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook. 

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy. 

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown. 

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible. 

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever. 

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust. 

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become. 

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all. 

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with. 

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be. 

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in. 

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.  

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish. 

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it. 

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers. 

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe. 

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice. 

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all. 

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?” 

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care. 

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.  

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did. 

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?” 

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.   

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact. 

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger. 

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body. 

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought. 

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster. 

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. 

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness. 

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world. 

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer. 

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.” 

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body. 

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks. 

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show. 

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact? 

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists. 

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch. 

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter. 

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly. 

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply. 

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like. 

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.   

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt. 

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast. 

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone. 

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“A princess cut.” 

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees. 

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now. 

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason. 

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued. 

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum. 

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew. 

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you. 

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind. 

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts. 

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm. 

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve. 

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction. 

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit. 

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.  

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin. 

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.” 

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening. 

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened. 

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever. 

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them. 

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare. 

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive. 

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xx

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: R's Dad gets wind of the plan. He's less than thrilled.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Mention of sex, mention of violence.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: sorry bbys, i know i've been MIA. just enjoying the summer, but I'm back for a new chapter! as always, thanks for all the love and let me know what you think!!

Several orgasms later - when you’re a sweaty, ruined mess underneath Tara’s body, you hear the murmur of voices and the front door slam closed.

Sam’s finally had enough, you think, a little sleepily. Her indignant request for the two of you to keep quiet had only made Tara fuck you harder. She’s annoying like that. And what had been Sam’s loss had been your gain.

Or so you had thought.

There’s a rumble against the floorboards downstairs. Boots, the owner heavy-footed. Sam’s voice - distant, a little apprehensive. And then you hear your Dad.

Deep, like thunder.

He sounds pissed.

“Tara, get off me,” You murmur, suddenly. She’s pressing you down into the mattress, lips on your neck, fingers wandering somewhere you definitely don’t need right now.

You sit up slightly, pulling her up with you.

“But I’m not done with you yet.” She says, eyes dancing as she pulls away from your neck.

She pushes you back into the bed, hard, taking your hands and pinning them over your head. You resist. Your Dad’s steps hit like lightning against the staircase.

“Babe,” You insist, “I’m serious, my Dad is home.”

She quells your fears with a kiss. Nips at your bottom lip.

“He’ll knock, babe, relax.” She assures.

She tilts your head to her lips, but you withdraw.

Panic surges through you.

You hear your Dad’s footsteps on the staircase. You wrench your hands out of her grip and reach for your t-shirt.

Your Dad doesn’t knock. You’ve known it for eighteen years and he certainly is going to stop it now. You pry your t-shirt over your head.

“Clothes, Tara. Now.” You hiss.

She rolls her eyes, but reaches for her own shirt.

But it’s too late. You hear the door click as the handle turns and then the bedroom door bursts wide open.

Your Dad stands, eyes wild, frightening as he looks over at you.

Tara gasps, and tugs the sheets over her body.

“Ever heard of knocking, dude?” She asks, cheeks red, in a rare moment of embarrassment.

Your Dad blinks.

The anger dissipates; he’s startled, like you in bed with Tara was the last thing he expected.

“What the hell is going on here?” He hisses, eyes wide with indignation. He flits between you trying to tug your shirt over your head and Tara pulling the sheets up to her neck. He looks outraged.

“Are you having sex?” He splutters. His eyes might bulge out of his head.

“No, we’re playing twister,” Tara says, voice dry, “Of course we’re having sex, what does it look like?”

She, as always, knows how to twist the knife.

You’d tell her to shut up, but your words - along with a piece of your soul - have died. Shock, embarrassment flood through you.

Rage explodes across your Dad’s face.

His chest heaves. He looks as though he might tackle her. You grip her hand, looking between them.

“Just give us one sec, Dad, we’ll be dressed in a minute.”

He takes a breath. Swallows hard.

Silence fills the room for a single, brutal second.

And then he’s blinking over at you, the rage simmering into a steady swell.

“Downstairs.” He tells you, his voice low, “One minute.”

He pauses, eyes flickering with disgust.

“And put some god damn clothes on.”

-

You briefly consider escaping out the window.

Taking Tara with you - with any luck you’d never have to look your Dad in the eye again. The thought of him tearing Woodsboro apart to find you again has you reluctantly pulling your jeans back on and helping Tara into hers.

“No talking back,” You say, lip between your teeth as you button her pants, “I mean it Tara. Say as little as possible, please. Let me do the talking.”

“Whatever you say, babe.” She grumbles. Her cheeks are still tinted pink. You kiss her cheek, rub her hip. She’s cute when she’s embarrassed, but you save that thought for later.

Right now you have bigger problems.

Your Dad is wildly pacing when the two of you come downstairs. Sam looks over at the two of you, offers Tara an appraising I told you so glare, but your focus isn’t on her. You chew your lip, settle into the sofa with Tara at your side.

“Sorry, daddy,” You say, voice small, “We thought you’d be at work a little longer.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, you know it the moment it leaves your lips.

Your Dad whirls around, eyebrows knit almost comically. Deep, angry frown lines mar his face.

“Where do I even begin?” He asks, eyes flashing, “The arrest? The murder? Setting up Ghostface? What the hell has been going on and why wasn’t I told?”

“Dad, please, calm down-“ You start but the look in his eyes quietens you.

“Not to mention the sex?” He thunders as if it’s even vaguely comparable to the others. He points a beefy finger at Tara, “You spent the morning in jail for multiple murders.”

The finger turns to you.

“You spent the morning committing manslaughter. And then the two of you decided to come home and what? Celebrate?”

His face turns red, “With underage fornication?”

Tara can’t help herself.

“It’s not underage sex, we’re both eighteen-“

“Quiet.” He snarls, “We’ll start with you - Sheriff Hicks arrested you this morning. For six murders.”

“That was a mistake,” Interjects Sam, “Sheriff Hicks got it wrong. The culprit was caught. He’s…. in custody.”

“In custody?” Your Dad says, “He’s dead. And the Sheriff tells me it was my daughter who did it.”

His fingers flex, menacingly. He’s scary like this. You’ve always been aware of his temper, walked on eggshells to please him, but this is something different.

Something terrifying.

“He attacked us at the school, I had no choice.” You say, voice small. Tara’s arm snakes around your waist. She squeezes your hip, gently.

“You had no choice?” Says your Dad, taking a step closer, “You arranged it. The Sheriff told me everything. The plan. The guns. You walked in there knowing you were going to take his life. It was calculated. And you didn’t tell me a fucking thing. How dare you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Says Tara. Your Dad isn’t the only one with a temper, but Tara’s is much, much worse. If he invokes The Rage, there isn’t much you can do to stop it.

You grip her hand, trying to signal for her to back down.

“I’ll talk to my own child how I please,” Your Dad sneers, “And as for you? You want to tell me why the Sheriff suspected you so much she had you hauled off in handcuffs?”

“Because she got it wrong,” You say, “Dad, are you even listening?”

He’s quiet a moment. His eyes swell. He looks the way he did like the first time you had told him you didn’t need him to push you on the swings anymore. Or the time he’d found out you’d had your first kiss with Aaron, or when you’d bought Tara home for the first time.

He looks devastated. Betrayed.

“You never told me you were having sex,” He says, voice hoarse.

You swallow.

“Dad, that’s - a little too uncomfortable of a conversation to have, don’t you think?”

“I thought you were a good girl. I thought you had values.” He looks distraught. So much so, that you almost feel bad.

“Dad… I’m eighteen, it’s not like I’m a kid anymore,” you say, voice slow, “And Tara and I have been dating for two years. I figured you just… knew.”

Clearly, he didn’t.

If anything, the sex has wounded him more than the murder you’d just committed.

“You’re a Christian girl,” He says, voice insistent, “We raised you Christian. I thought that would mean something. I thought you were a virgin.”

Tara can’t help herself; she snorts.

You dig a sharp elbow into her side, but it’s too late. Your Dad’s eyes flash with fury and embarrassment and grief and before you can even blink he’s reaching over to grab Tara by the arm.

He yanks at her, hard, pulling her up like she’s a rag doll.

You scream out, trying to draw your body between his and hers but Sam gets there first.

She shoves him back, hard as she can and steps between them, her eyes flashing.

Looking wounded, Tara rubs at her arm, face flashing with aggravation. There’s an angry red handprint blooming on her. You pull her back, behind you, wrapping your arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch her, don’t you dare touch her.” Sam snarls.

Your Dad breathes out, chest heaving. He glares at Tara, and if you and Sam weren’t between them, you really think he might try and hit her.

It’s a sobering thought. And suddenly all you need is to get her out of here.

“We’re going to go.” You say, voice a little shaky, “Me, Sam and Tara are going, Dad. Until you calm down.”

His eyes flash.

You grip Tara a little harder.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He growls, “These two - they can go. They’re trouble. I want them out. But you?”

He points a finger at you.

“You’re grounded. You’re not leaving the house, as of now. Mom will home school you, you’re not seeing the rat-pack of delinquents you call friends again. And you’re breaking up with her, right now.”

Your heart thuds.

Your Dad’s face is brazen. Serious.

But so are you.

“No.” You say, drawing your shoulders back.

“No?”

“No. I’m eighteen, I can’t be grounded. You can’t tell me who my friends are and you certainly can’t stop me from seeing Tara.”

Your Dad slams his hand against the table. A cup shatters to the ground. You flinch.

“She’s been arrested for murder, YN.” He says, voice fraught. He blinks at you, desperate for you to understand, “And you might believe that she’s done nothing wrong but the Sheriff arrested her for a reason. Between that and the-”

He shudders.

“The fornicating. No. You’re not seeing her anymore. I won’t allow it.”

Sam stands up, hands raised. She looks furious, but there’s something in her voice. Like she’s trying to be the voice of reason.

“Sir - please. I know you’re upset but trying to stop them from seeing each other isn’t the right way-“

“You will not see her!” Screams your Dad, “The Sheriff thinks there’s something wrong with her. That she was in it with Richie. And I saw it, right from the start. There’s something wrong with her, YN. That girl is-“

“That girl is my sister, and I’d watch what you were saying if I were you.” Sam says, voice sharp.

“We’ll go,” Says Tara, rubbing your back. She stands a little straighter, “But YN is coming with us. I'm not leaving without her." 

“Dad, I’m going.” You say, voice stern, “And if you try to stop me I’ll call the police myself. I’m eighteen, you have no right to keep me here like a hostage.”

There’s a vein on your Father’s forehead that looks like it might burst. You’ve never seen him like this before: bubbling with fury and fear and desperation. He’s acting irrational.

Crazy.

And you don’t want to be here a minute longer.

“We’re going,” Sam repeats for you. She still has her hand raised, as if she’s afraid he might lunge at Tara at any given moment, “Okay?”

It’s not okay, clearly.

But your threat of calling the police seems to work.

He swallows. Face still red.

He swears at you.

Calls you ungrateful. Smashes another glass against the floor.

But then he leaves.

And before he can change his mind, you’re gripping onto Tara for dear life and leading her out the front door.

-

Sam drives.

You sit in the back seat, head against Tara’s shoulder, inspecting the red hand marks on her forearm.

Your Dad got angry sometimes, sure, but he’d never physically hurt anyone before. He could have killed her right there, you could tell by the look in his eyes, if you and Sam hadn’t been there to intervene.

You press your lips to the mark, heart aching at the thought your own Father had been the one to hurt her.

“You couldn’t have waited a couple more hours before you jumped each other?” Sam asks, voice wry.

She peers into the backseat just in time to catch the flash of indignation across Tara’s face.

“Way to victim-blame, Sam,” Tara says, crossing her arms, “We were just fucking. He was acting like we were dissecting live cats together or something.”

“I thought he knew we were having sex,” You say, absent-mindedly, “What kind of couple is together for two years without having sex?”

“Mormons,” Tara says, her nose wrinkled, “Or your parents, maybe.”

You roll your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, now.” You say, a little nervous as Sam pulls into the driveway of hers and Tara’s house, “What matters is we get this place safe and secured before we go to bed tonight.”

Tara squeezes your thigh.

Sam gets to work immediately.

She gets her drill out, installing new locks on each of the doors. Tara hides the knives, holsters a small pistol around her waist.

They both look hot.

You keep that thought to yourself and watch Tara as she leans over and reaches for Sam’s drill. She bites her lip as she drills the hinge into place and then turns and catches your gaze.

“What?” She asks, small smile on her face.

“Nothing,” You say, voice coy as she moves over and snakes her arms around your waist, “You just look sexy doing that, that’s all.”

“I look sexy drilling a hinge into the door?” She teases. She presses a kiss to your lips.

You bite your lip and look over at Sam. She’s picking up the drill and then traipsing off into the next room.

“I want you to drill me into the door.” You say, voice low.

Tara’s eyes spark.

Then you hear Sam groan from the other room.

“Again?”

Your cheeks flush red. Tara laughs.

You smack her gently, then nuzzle your head into her neck.

Tara presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m going to finish up these doors,” She says, voice light, “And then I’ll drill you into anything you want, baby.”

You half consider dragging her up the stairs and taking her up on that promise. The adrenaline from the day is manifesting in some particularly horny ways. You don’t know if it’s the fear, or the shock but all you can think about is Tara and how much you want her.

But before you can so much as kiss her, the doorbell is ringing.

Sam peers back into the room, frown on her face.

“If that’s your Dad-” She begins, but you cut her off, miles ahead of her.

If it is your Dad, the last thing you need is Tara around.

You shake her off, worry overtaking your expression.

“I’ll get rid of him,” You say, hurriedly, “Baby, stay here.”

But when you make your way to the door, and swing it open, it isn’t your Dad standing there.

You frown. Clutch at the door a little tighter.

“Sheriff Hicks?” You ask, a little confused. She’s standing with her hat in her hands, looking nervous. More nervous than you’ve ever seen her.

And this is the third time you’ve seen her today, and in all honesty, you’d rather not see her again for a few weeks, at the very least. 

You’ve had your fill of her.

“YN,” She says, peering behind you. She wrings her hands, “Samantha Carpenter, is she here?”

You frown, a little confused.

You feel Tara come up behind you, press her hands to your hips. You don’t need to look at her to tell she’s less than pleased to see the woman who’d arrested her standing on her doorstep.

“Sheriff,” Tara drawls, shoulders tight, “Here to arrest anymore innocent people?”

The Sheriff ignores her. She looks to you.

“May I come in?” She asks.

“No.” Says Tara, arms crossed.

The Sheriff falls silent. Her eyes flit between yours and Tara’s. She looks grave. Like she’s seen a ghost.

“I’m not here to arrest anyone,” The Sheriff says. She sounds serious, “I just need to speak with Sam. It’s about Richie.”

“Richie?” His name draws Sam out from the kitchen.

The Sheriff nods.

“If I could just come inside-”

“You’re not coming inside my house,” Tara says, voice sharp, “Tell Sam whatever you want about Richie, and then leave. Please.”

The Sheriff looks like she wants to argue. But then her shoulders drop. She takes a deep breath and looks Sam right in the eye.

“He’s gone.”

Sam blinks.

“I know, Sheriff,” She says, voice slow, “I was there, remember?”

The Sheriff shakes her head.

“No, Sam. He’s gone. As in we can't find him anywhere.” 

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.1k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, clear attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: After a few days of planning, it is time to head out to get new information on Makarov that would hopefully lead to his takedown. You have decided to take control with a plan that makes Ghost want to get to know you even more. Turns out, you’re quite good at the game he wants to play.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

The 141 have been treating you like a feral cat ever since they arrived. Every time they tried to get close to you more than necessary, you distanced yourself and threatened violence. Despite the conflict, you have attended every brief they wanted to have. From a distance of course. Kate had sent you files upon files of information from the identities of the men you were working with and mission reports. Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price had impressive records. Many successful missions, few failed. However, they were clearly stuck in a box. 

The government’s military had a very particular way of doing things that are absolutely wrapped in red tape. They trained soldiers to think a certain way and do certain things. To you, it was like brainwashing. That was part of the reason why you didn’t fit in when you did try joining the military long ago.

The boys clearly needed a new perspective. The official ways of the military weren’t working. It would be insanity if they kept trying to do the same things over and over again. 

The day before you were to all head out again, you decided to change their plans at the last minute. They scheduled a checkpoint back in civilization where they would be provided an armored car and instructions to drive it to a hangar. From there, you were to fly to Italy and capture one of Makarov’s weapons dealers for interrogation. Except, you decided that you weren’t going to do any of that. You couldn’t stand wild goose chases.

You had called a meeting, much to their surprise considering that you barely even spoke during their scheduled briefs. It didn’t take long for them to gather around the table, take a seat, and tune in to what you were about to say. Did you finally trust them? Decide to cooperate like a good soldier?

“We’re going off-grid.” You announced loud and clear, asserting your authority. 

“We’re already off-grid.” Soap retorted, clearly confused by what you meant. You had to stop an insult from escaping your lips.

“No, you’re not. I’m talking about cutting off government and military contacts. No check-ins, no checkpoints, no assists. Everything from here on out is unreported, completely classified, and off-record. Laswell will be our only life-line and she is also going under the radar.” You explained with no hesitation in your voice. 

At this, Price stood from his seat in defiance. “Are you crazy? We could be labeled as deserters!”

You had a solution for this. “No, you won’t. I know how much your reputations and jobs mean to you, even if I think it’s blind stupidity. Kate is going to submit fake reports and check-ins. VPNs are going to make it seem like we are where we are supposed to be.”

“Then what the hell do we do now? Where are we supposed to go now?” Gaz spoke up now, his tone much more gentle in comparison to the outrage they all must feel. They probably weren’t used to taking orders from someone from the outside of their little boy’s club. 

“We’re still going to Italy, but we aren’t going the way that is expected. We aren’t securing the target either. We’re going to spy. Gather information from their own natural conversations and slip-ups. Take note of everything.” You elaborated, all of this information seeming quite obvious in your own head. 

Price let another outburst slip. “We don’t have time to just wait around like that.”

You rolled your eyes and headed to the whiteboard that was scrounged up from your basement earlier in the week. On it, you wrote “patience” and circled it. “Makarov has always been one step ahead of you. It’s because he has patience. The patience to sit down and plan what he’s going to do next. Your actions have all just been reactionary. Besides that, he’s Jokering you.”

It took them a moment to let that settle in, trying to decipher what you meant. Eventually, one of the boys got it. For some reason, you were surprised that it was Ghost who understood first. “You mean he’s expecting us and wants us to show up. Like Joker and Batman.”

You nodded, but didn’t slow down your flow. In another life, you probably would’ve made captain with your natural leadership, even if it came from a place of desire for control. “Exactly. This new plan also eliminates the possibility of a mole leaking information.”

The boys looked at each other in panic at this one. Price was offended that you would accuse any of his men to be a mole. Here and back home. However, he bit his tongue and dug for more information. “A mole?”

“I don’t have much proof yet, but I have my suspicions. A lot of what makes up Makarov’s madness is patience. Some of it, though, is knowing sensitive information. Reading the mission reports, several points of interest implied that someone was leaking information to him. If we go with my plan, then we will see if my theory is true. If not, then no harm done.” You reasoned.

Soap’s curiosity got the better of him. He just had to ask. “Who do you think the mole is?”

You were blunt with your answer, not one to sugarcoat anything even if it hurt. “Shepherd.”

Price swore under his breath, your theory making sense to him now. All of the 141 have been suspicious of him ever since the incident in Mexico. It was startling to them that Makarov was transporting him as a prisoner in Siberia at one point as well. He may very well be the reason why they can’t catch Makarov. All the times he got away seemed to be under Shepherd’s watch. Why didn’t they see this before?

Finally, Price gave in. The reasoning was just too sound to completely ignore. “Fine. We’ll go with Hex’s plan. For the time being, Hex will call the shots.”

~

The next twenty-four hours were tense as everyone gathered their things and prepared to start their first mission now under the radar. You could tell that the squad didn’t like the fact that you were essentially their new leader for now. However, they wouldn’t dare defy their Captain’s orders. This kind of loyalty instilled by the military was one thing you were grateful for. 

It was three in the morning and you were still up, printing things that would aid your journey in the office. The boys have already retired for the night, the time for departure being bright and early at five o’clock. They needed rest before what was to come. Who knew when they would have comfortable beds again. 

You yawned and took a sip of your coffee, watching the printer slowly turn out what would become stickers. It was an old printer so it took ages just to print one thing. Agonizingly slow. 

Suddenly, you felt a pair of eyes on you from the shadows. You have already started to become familiar with the feeling and who it was from. His gaze barely left you when you were in the same space together like you were a specimen to be observed. You decided to ignore him, refusing to entertain him in any way. 

Eventually, he emerged and stood in front of your desk. The walls were lined with more books. Instead of classics, though, the shelves were lined with more modern pieces along with comics. “I didn’t peg you as a comic book fan.”

“I have a lot of time on my hands. I read everything.” You curtly responded, watching him from the corner of your eye. He was still wearing that skull balaclava, but he was dressed in pajamas. Long, flannel pajama pants, a tight black t-shirt that showed off his muscles and tattoos. You could just about trace every definition of his strength with your eyes. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He tried continuing the conversation. He was stubborn, you gathered. He lived by his words, trying to get to know you when you clearly didn’t want to be known. Yet, he now knew that you were a reader of just about anything. Classics, modern, comics, cookbooks. It didn’t matter to you. A book was a book. Books were meant to be read. 

“I don’t sleep.” You threw him a bone, hoping that he would be satisfied with this miniscule, insignificant piece of information.

Ghost didn’t say anything for a while. He just watched you watching the printer. The way the lamp illuminated your features, the way your own set of pajamas hugged your curves, and the way you lazily watched the paper emerging from the machine had his stomach do flips. He was impressed with how you handled the meeting today. Well, not just impressed. Attracted. The way you carried yourself, presented ideas without remorse, and connected the dots was a sign of intelligence. Even natural leadership. For him, it was incredibly attractive which at the same time frustrated him.

Simon wanted to get to know you, but at the same time, he didn’t. You were still frustrating to deal with. He didn’t like how you talked back and stubbornly refused to get closer to them. Yet, there was something about you that he couldn’t ignore. Not just looks and intelligence, but a sense of loneliness. He could feel it in the walls of your home and the way you bit back at attempts of compassion. You didn’t like people. At the same time, you confided with Kate. That was enough of a sign that you did need human interaction. Wanted it.

He sat in a lounge chair on the opposite end of the room, still wanting to push your boundaries. “Got any recommendations?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I recommend you get the fuck out of my office.”

He scowled and suppressed his urge to storm out. You were a real piece of work. “I meant book recommendations.”

The paper was finally done printing which you swiped up eagerly. Taking a pair of scissors, you began to cut out your images. “None that you would like.”

“Try me, Hex.” He pressed.

You gave a long, exasperated sigh. This was ridiculous to you. However, you thought about it for a moment. Perhaps having him read a book would get him to shut up. Especially since you will have a long drive together in a few hours. The last thing you wanted was roadtrip talk. Finally, you paused your work to find a book for him off your shelf. Once you spotted one of your favorites, you slid it out and tossed it to him.

He caught it with ease, processing then to examine the cover followed by the synopsis on the back. He looked up, questioning your recommendation. "This is what you like to read?"

"I don't like the bare surface. I like the deeper meanings.” You confessed, a little annoyed that he seemed to be bashing your recommendation despite asking for it. 

“You’re an analyst.” He pointed out, a smirk concealed under his mask as he learned more snippets about you. Your displeasure at his comment was obvious as you frowned and crossed your arms across your chest. 

You walked over and attempted to snatch the book out of his hand. However, he stood up and held the book above your head out of your reach, looking down at you for a reaction. Instead of jumping in attempts to grab it, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it down to your level. Your blood was hot with anger. “What fucking game are you playing at?! You think this is fucking funny?”

“It’s amusing, I’ll admit. I’m just getting to know you, though.” He admitted, his heart thumping hard against his chest from the thrill of getting your attention, even if it’s like this.

“I’m not your fucking recruit or your fucking toy, understand? If anything, I am your enemy that you’re forced to work with this one time.” You seethed, eyes blazing. You wanted to view him as an enemy to ensure that the distance between you two was even further. If he hated your guts, it would make things much easier. 

Instead of agreeing, he just shook his head. You frustrated him, sure, but he couldn’t hate you. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, Hex.”

You gave it some thought for a moment before letting go of his shirt and turning back to your little arts and crafts project. At first, Ghost didn’t know what to think of your response. He expected to hear some fighting words back or maybe an attempted punch. Not surrender like this. Your next words caught him even more off guard. “Read the book and let me know what you think. Don’t dog-ear it either. I can’t stand that. There are bookmarks in the coffee table drawer out in the living room if you need one.”

Your tone was calm and collected. Calculated. Oh, but you planned to knock the wind right out of his sails soon enough. You were just waiting for the right timing.

Ghost gathered himself, trying to figure out what was going on in that brain of yours. It made him uneasy, yet thrilled. It was like he was on a rollercoaster blind. For now, he played along. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I criticize your selection when I report it back.”

As he made his way out of your office, you shrugged and gave a wicked smirk. Even if it was malicious, it made his breath hitch. It made him want to see what other smiles you had. Joyous, silly, sympathetic, all of it.

Just before he left completely, you gave a final retort. “You got a deal, Simon.”

He halted in his tracks, feeling a shiver run down his spine. The electricity traveled through his nerves as you said his real name in that mocking tone of yours. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. You knew his name, signifying that you were already ahead in this little game he initiated. A step ahead. It enraged him that would use his name so bluntly, mockingly, and disrespectfully. 

To hear his name on your lips, though, at the same time, made his heart quiver. On the way out, he slammed the door, your muffled laughs of victory behind it making blood rush to his ears. Another beautiful sound that he both admired and hated.

~

At five o’clock sharp, you were closing the door to your cabin and whispering a temporary goodbye to it. The outside of the cabin was run down, the porch nearly falling apart from rot. On the outside, it looked abandoned. The perfect cover hiding the place you called home for the past couple of years. You were going to miss it.

“Alright, men, time to hike.” Price ushered forwards, leading the strange pack toward a vehicle you kept camouflaged near a dirt road. Within an hour or so, everyone should stumble upon a dirt road leading to a nature park, one that hasn’t received visitors in years. From there, you could lead the way and take the car to start the road trip to Italy from Austria. 

For now, you walked rear, right behind Ghost that also preferred to be in the back of the pack. After some time, Soap, Gaz, and Price were comfortable enough to engage in casual conversation to pass the time. Simon was listening, chiming in every now and then. His senses were mainly focused on you though. He wondered what you were thinking about. Were you listening to the conversation? Answering the questions in your own head? 

A little bit perhaps. Your own senses were mostly trained on the environment. Small animals scurrying in far off shrubbery, birds flapping their wings to get to different branches, the feeling of leaves crunching beneath your boots. It kept your head quiet as you walked.

Finally, a dirt road was revealed beyond some trees, a sign that it was time for you to lead the way. You snapped out of your meditation and headed up to the front. Looking both ways down the road before stepping out, you led the way to the vehicle you only used occasionally. It didn’t take long for you to track down your car. “Gaz, Price, help me take the camo off. Soap, keep an eye out for any hikers.”

They obeyed like obedient dogs of the military, following your orders as instructed. Ghost stood silently, watching the branches and leaves reveal just what kind of car you planned on packing them all in. Much to his amusement and horror, it was a minivan. The kind a football mom would drive her kids’ team around. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m smart. This will receive a lot less attention compared to an official military armored vehicle. Here, keep yourself occupied and put these on the back windshield.

From your pack, you fished out the craft you were working on last night. Hand-made stickers of a stick figure family along with a few cliche, family-friendly bumper stickers. “PTA Mom,” “Go Little Sharks!” and “Pomeranian Family” were just some of the cringey bumper stickers that you handed to Simon. He didn’t know if you were a genius or crazy. Maybe both. 

Once the camo was clear, stickers on the minivan were secure, and the coast was clear, the men filed into the car like a little league team. They even argued about who was going to the poor victim in the very back seat. Of course, being the youngest, Gaz pulled the short straw on that one. “God damn! My legs are up to my fuckin’ chest!”

“You can switch at pit stops.” You reasoned, taking the driver’s seat naturally. Much to your dismay, Ghost decided that he was going to sit up front with you. Your passenger. 

You knew he did this on purpose. “Do you really have to sit up here with me?” 

“Of course I do. A happy family always has a mom and dad at the front.” He teased nonchalantly. You knew he was smiling cockily under that mask. You hoped that the rest of the 141 didn’t hear his inappropriate comment. The last thing you needed was for the rest of the team to start testing your patience too with teasing.

You started the car and slowly pulled onto the road. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you.” Simon simply accepted, taking it as a compliment. Even if you weren’t thinking about him in a positive light, you were still thinking about him. That alone was enough to make him feel like this was his own victory.

You turned on the radio, hoping that music would chase the thought of Simon out of your head. 

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

6. 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

Dinner in the vampire's grand estate was a silent but pleasant affair for (Y/n). The food was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She had heard that noble meals were separated into multiple courses, but the lavishness of it all exceeded her expectations. Five courses in total, with the last one offering a delightful assortment of sweets and fruits.

She ate quietly, aware of the vampire's watchful gaze on her throughout the meal. As he reached the end of his own meal, her attention was drawn to the glass filled with a red liquid at his side. The sight of it, coupled with his actions, sent a shiver down her spine. She knew all too well what the crimson liquid truly was. The vampire called a servant, who took the glass and refilled it with the disturbing substance.

Feeling a sense of unease and in need of diverting her thoughts, (Y/n) broke the silence, saying, "I am growing bored. There is nothing to do here."

The vampire arched an elegant eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. "Would you like more dolls?" he suggested.

She rolled her eyes, her frustration mounting. "I don't need more dolls," she retorted. "I want something genuinely interesting to do. I miss going into the forest."

"No," he replied firmly.

She gave him an outraged look. "Why?"

"Too dangerous," he said dryly.

Brows furrowing in irritation, she argued, "I've spent a lot of time in the forest near my home! This one can't be any different."

"You won't go anywhere," he hissed, and the air grew noticeably colder around them.

Her stomach twisted, but she wasn't ready to back down. Her mind raced for an alternative. "If I can't leave this estate, can't I at least do something here? The horses! I want to ride horses."

"No," he fumed, his anger so palpable that it led to a shattering glass as he tightened his grip. "I don't want to hear any more about this matter."

The blood was now dripping on the table. She pushed her chair back. It was a good thing the table cover was red. As servants rushed to clean up the mess, (Y/n) pushed her chair back, her appetite vanishing.

Well, she had at least tried with the vampire, she pondered. There were still the servants she could try to convince. She had talked briefly with one servant named Mary. (Y/n) wondered if she would be able to use this to her advantage. Instead of insisting on it, she would occasionally talk to that lady to gain her trust.

"I shall buy new books," the vampire announced, his tone more composed. "What would suit your taste?"

She hesitantly lifted her head and shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted meekly, still mindful of the vampire's previous anger. "I don't read much."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, you don't read much ?"

She fidgeted, unable to understand what was so wrong with her statement. "Not really necessary when harvesting food, is it ?" She reasoned with a dismissive shrug, hoping her response would suffice.

The vampire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I suppose we shall have to change that, then," he remarked with a shake of his head.

⊱ ────── {⋆☾⋆} ────── ⊰

"Now, I want you to be on your best behavior," the duke instructed, his gaze sweeping over (Y/n) from head to toe, making the final adjustments to her appearance as the maid who had dressed her discreetly retreated.

(Y/n) let out an impatient sigh. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," the man— vampire, insisted. "I must ensure my daughter is well educated." Another exasperated sigh escaped her, and she crossed her arms. "None of that now, do you know how difficult it is to find a governess willing to work during the night ?"

"No," she acknowledged with a careless shrug. "But you wouldn't have to if you simply agreed to me having lessons during the day."

He scoffed at the suggestion as if it were the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. "That would disrupt your sleep schedule."

A servant knocked at the door before announcing : "Mrs. Mitchell has arrived, Sir."

"Let's proceed," he ordered, striding toward the door. The girl practically had to jog to keep up with his brisk pace.

They entered the reception room, where the tutor was sitting, waiting for them. The woman had a sharp, stern look about her. She wore a white chemise and a long black skirt reaching her ankles.

"Good evening, Duke de Beauvoir," greeted the woman.

"Greetings, Mrs. Mitchell," he replied politely. "Please, take a seat," he offered.

The adults engaged in conversation, and (Y/n) stood beside the vampire, remaining silent. Her thoughts drifted, and she began to daydream. Eventually, Mrs. Mitchell decided it was time to assess her current level of knowledge.

The tutor instructed her to read and write a little. After the brief examination, she slightly furrowed her brows and remarked, "She appears to be slightly behind, but I believe this can be rectified in no time."

"Very well," the man agreed. "A room will be prepared for you, and your lessons will commence on Monday night at 6:00 PM."

At this time of the year, the sun sets early in London. (Y/n)'s jaw dropped in outrage. That was insanely early. She was usually still in bed at that time. Nonetheless, they agreed on the hours without the girl's consent.

Mrs. Mitchell, however, seemed curious and ventured to ask, "May I inquire why nighttime is the preferred time for these lessons?"

The vampire's expression turned cold. "I do not believe that is any of your concern, Mrs. Mitchell."

The tutor nodded humbly. "Of course, Duke de Beauvoir. I apologize."

He accepted her apology, then turned his gaze to (Y/n). "Your duty is to educate my daughter, not to interfere in our affairs."

"Understood," Mrs. Mitchell replied with utmost respect.

(Y/n) couldn't help but wonder how the woman would react if she eventually discovered the truth. Would she leave? Or would fear keep her bound, much like the other servants?

The vampire placed a cold hand on her shoulder as they left the room together. Lately, he had expressed an interest in teaching her to play chess.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Ten

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Ten: Traveling to Okinawa

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki prepare for their school trip, and it is, of course, chaotic.

            PK Academy was buzzing with excitement for the Okinawa trip. Yumehara and Teruhashi were especially excited because they wanted to spend time with Saiki. That meant they had to join his group. Of course, the obvious answer was to first ask (Y/N) to ask the boys (since they had already roped them into their group), but they were over with Saiki, and neither wanted to embarrass themselves in front of their crush. They tried to ask the other guys, but Teruhashi’s fan club became too exuberant in trying to get her to join them. So, now the girls (plus (Y/N)) were joining boy groups by a lottery system. Teruhashi, of course, was first up. She walked up to the box and rummaged around in it for a second.

            Yare yare. I feel bad that (Y/N) won’t be in my group, but I can’t have them and Yumehara there, too.

            “I choose this one!” declared Teruhashi.

            “Teruhashi’s group will join Takahashi’s group,” announced Hairo.

            “From here on, if you wanna talk to Teruhashi, talk to me first,” said Takahashi proudly as the other boys yelled in outrage.

            (Y/N) sighed. I wanted to be in Saiki’s group…

            Teruhashi and Yumehara felt the same way. They were very disappointed.

            “So Teruhashi’s group will join Takahashi’s, but what about the rest?” asked Hairo. “Shall we decide the rest via raffle as well?”

            The boys just mumbled about not caring. (Y/N) sweat-dropped. A girl from another group finally walked up and picked out another group.

            “Ugh, we got Nendou? Being in Nendou’s group is like, totes the worst!” she spat while her group nodded. “Like, can we pick again? This, like, totes kills the trip for us.”

            “Then our group will switch with theirs!” volunteered Teruhashi angelically.

            “T-Teruhashi?!” stammered Takahashi’s group.

            (Y/N) brightened. They knew Saiki wouldn’t enjoy having Teruhashi and Yumehara with him, but they really wanted to be in his group. They were friends with him and the others in the group, after all.

            “That is, if Nendou and the other two are okay with it,” continued Teruhashi.

            Everyone was amazed at the perfect pretty girl wanting to be in Nendou’s group. However, it didn’t last long as they all thought about how kind and selfless she was for doing it. It made her more perfect to them. The class began to cheer for their goddess.

            Yare yare. The only good thing about this is (Y/N) being in my group. Other than that…I’m just stuck with two more bothers.

            The class seemed to be satisfied with the rest of the results. Then, Hairo got called over by the teacher. When he returned to the room, his face was slightly crestfallen (as much as Hairo could be).

            “Which of you are in Mera’s group?” asked Hairo.

            “Oh, we are,” said (Y/N), raising their hand.

            “It looks like she can no longer go on the trip with us,” said Hairo.

            “Aw, why?” asked (Y/N).

            “Apparently, they couldn’t catch as many bluefin tuna as they wanted,” explained the class rep. “It’s unfortunate, but we can’t do anything about it. So it’s been decided that we’ll do groups of eight instead of groups of seven. Two of the members of Teruhashi’s group have to join another.”

            Instantly, Teruhashi and Yumehara glanced at (Y/N), who was humming pleasantly. They were better friends with the boys, so they were the obvious choice to stay in the group. Other people were also pulling them away.

            Looks like God is on my side.

l

            Saiki sighed in annoyance as he listened to Makoto prattle on and on about the “perverted” things Saiki was “thinking” and how he would be there to stop Saiki from doing anything. It was really quite disturbing how detailed Makoto was getting. Saiki was prepared to just not go, but…he could hear Mera and (Y/N) passing by. Mera was sad about not being able to go, and (Y/N) was disappointed their friend couldn’t come.

            That did it.

            Alright, Teruhashi. You win.

l

            “What shall we do, teacher?” asked Hairo.

            (Y/N) had been bouncing up and down in excitement at the trip, but they were starting to get nervous since it might be canceled now.

            “This isn’t good…” said the teacher.

            Suddenly, the PA system announced, “Due to a typhoon, the flight to Okinawa scheduled for ten o’clock has been temporarily suspended at this time.”

            (Y/N) sighed and slumped in their seat. “What bad luck…”

            “When I was finally able to go,” mourned Mera.

            Saiki sighed as the depressed thoughts of his friends bothers flooded him.

            “Excuse me, if the flight gets canceled, will the school trip be postponed?” asked a student.

            “No, it’ll be canceled,” said Matsusaki.

            “What?!” cried everyone.

            “I want you to go…but it’s out of my hands,” said Matsusaki sadly.

            “Teacher!” cried the students.

            “Don’t give up, guys!” shouted Hairo, clearly trying to delude himself. “It’s not like the flight has been canceled! One, two, sun! Don’t give up! Come on, guys! Cheer with me!”

            (Y/N) just sighed gloomily.

            Yare yare, even their endless sunniness is dampened. I can’t keep watching this. He couldn’t have (Y/N) upset. He liked them happy. Saiki teleported away for a moment before returning, soaking wet.

            “Hey! The flights back on!” chirped (Y/N) happily. “The news says the typhoon suddenly disappeared!” They grinned and then cocked their head. “Saiki? Why are you wet?”

            “Never mind it.” He smiled a tiny bit. “Now, let’s take that school trip.”

            “Yeah!” cheered (Y/N).

            Finally, PK Academy boarded the plane and was off to Okinawa. (Y/N) took out headphones and leaned back in their seat. While Yumehara, Teruhashi, and Mera were talking, they decided to take a nice long nap. They wanted as much energy as possible when they arrived in Okinawa.

l

            “The ocean looks so beautiful!” said (Y/N), looking out the bus window.

            “It’s so green!” said Nendou. “I wonder if someone’s dumpin’ some paint out there. Right, pal, pinky?”

            (Y/N) just grinned and shook their head.

            “Hey, (Y/N)!” called Yumehara. “Look!” She opened her shirt, revealing a bikini top.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and they looked away. “Yumehara!”

            “Don’t take your clothes of here!” Teruhashi blushed.

            “It’s just a bathing suit,” explained Yumehara.

            “That makes more sense,” said (Y/N). “Stripping on the bus doesn’t seem your thing. I’m guessing you’re excited about the beach?”

            “Totally!” said Yumehara.

            “Me, too,” said Teruhashi.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I can’t wait to go. I bought a new swimsuit for the occasion.”

            “Oh, are you not wearing a guy’s swimsuit this time?” asked Yumehara.

            “No, I went for a two-piece,” said (Y/N). “I thought I’d have fun.”

            “I got a bikini, too,” remarked Teruhashi.

            “We’ll be like a fashion show!” commented (Y/N), beaming as the bus stopped.

            “Ooh, finally, we’re getting food!” Mera was drooling at the thought.

            She quickly pulled everyone into the building the teachers were escorting them into. They were all sat down in groups around tables and given food.

            “So, this is Okinawa soba, huh? It doesn’t look like soba at all,” said Nendou.

            “Well, one difference is that they don’t use buckwheat flour, so—,” said Yumehara.

            “Whatever it is, it looks good! Let’s chow down!” Nendou began eating.

            “Kuwachii sabira,” said Kaidou in the Okinawan dialect.

            Everyone stared blankly at him.

            “Yep! Maasan! This is ippee maasan,” said Kaidou as he ate.

            “Sure! Maasan!” chirped (Y/N).

            “Don’t start,” said Saiki, giving them a look.

            They laughed sheepishly while Kaidou continued attempting the Okinawan dialect.

            “He’s trying too hard.”

            “Th-Th-That’s amazing, Kaidou,” said Teruhashi, struggling to get the lie out.

            “I can’t remember them at all,” said Yumehara.

            “That’s fine!” said Kaidou. “Even if you don’t get ushinaa guchi, nankura naisa!”

            “He was excited for that phrase,” observed (Y/N).

            Finally, after an excruciatingly incomprehensible narration of the meal by Kaidou, the group finished eating and left the restaurant.

            “We still have some time left. Do you wanna stop by the souvenir shop?” asked Mera.

            “Sure!” (Y/N) nodded. With that, the girls enjoyed the time until dinner with some light shopping.

l

            “Now this is what a school trip’s all about!” cheered three boys at the hot springs. “Peeping!”

            Yare yare. Hearing their thoughts makes me feel gross.

            “Actually, I came once before to check things out,” said one boy.

            “To Okinawa?!” cried Takahashi. “That’s commitment, Murata!”

            “The hotel switches the men’s and women’s baths each day. I have a good grasp of the other side, too,” said Murata.

            “Wow…I can’t even find words…” said the third boy, impressed.

            “But it’ll all be worth it…to get a peek at her!” declared Murata, clearly thinking of Teruhashi. “The best place to peek is under that light.”

            I’ll block their line of sight.

            “What is she’s already gotten out?” asked Takahashi.

            “They might not compare to Teruhashi, but Mera and (L/N) are pretty hot as well,” said the third.

            Saiki stopped his movements. Yare yare. I guess I’ll have to handle this differently.

            As the three used periscopes to try to look over the fence, Saiki twisted the tops around. The boys were met with the horrifying picture of a naked Nendou.

            I don’t understand what the big deal about naked bodies is— Saiki accidentally looked through the fence with his x-ray vision. He could see (Y/N) in the water with their back turned. It was more of them than he had ever seen. Oh, wow. He immediately looked away. He had not expected that reaction to them. Shaking his head, he dispelled the thoughts, but they continued to bob in his head. Yare yare. I’m going down to the beach to get away from all of this.

            If Saiki had known the situation would just get worse, perhaps he wouldn’t have lay down on that beach chair that night.

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