shallowrambles · 2 years ago
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Adam had the power of an archangel inside of him
And then wanted to be Small
#adam was comfortable being small#being insignificant#and that's what made him beautiful#letting go of the notion of Grand purpose#the achilles heel of road narratives is they look outside not inside and it should be both#no one was a premium on outsider narratives because that Is The Human Condition#meaning making and what is the point#you can have an unstable identity regardless of your gender sexuality#i promise you there are so so SO many ways to be an outsider#it is not nuclear fam vs everything else i guarantee you there are housewives with internal upheaval on par with romanticized road stories#to think otherwise is an erasure of internal complexity#not everyone has the mobility or health or privilege to be on a road#some of us are stuck building and maintaining it#others joyride#my economic class is coloring my views again#i know#road narratives are also the lifeblood trope of fantasy narratives not just queer ones#and queer is a good reading but to say that straight ppl can't understand being an outsider is just...don't y'all have straight friends?#or do you assume aunt carol is a 2d caricature who can't understand Romantic Things like why are we here#File under All of Literature and The Human Condition#As much as I love oppressive social structures#I don't think being disabled or queer means I and I alone understand the feeling of loneliness or a lack of purpose because that's Life#Anyway I love that Adam wanted to be small#He Got It#it's very end of Candide#Tend to your own garden stuff#I just think the segregation of This story is for US and That story is for THEM ain't ever gonna Be It#And stories aren't for everyone but oh oh OH Trying to Find Yourself and Meaning and Purpose is for Everyone#anyway what was i talking about again?#owning your own struggle does not mean denying others may struggle similarly even if theyre not exactly like me
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gaffney · 1 year ago
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I really admire how you're able to ship every duck with Charlie lol
LMAO. look. is it my fault that charlie has chemistry with everyone on the team? no!!! heart of the team etc etc 😌 idk, i just love love. i love the idea of different types of relationships with different types of people, and the possibilities that come with each type of love. i love the idea of finding a 'true love' in different people (platonic or romantic). and i just love exploring different dynamics!!! like, for ex. charlie/jesse is a completely different dynamic from charlie/adam, so it's fun to be able to write that. HOPEFULLY i'll add to my growing charlie/duck collection in the future
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aperrywilliams · 5 months ago
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That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.
Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.
Summary:  You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.
Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)
Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.
A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!
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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.
But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.
He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.
From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.
But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.
You were extremely shy and reserved.
In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'
He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.
But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.
You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.
At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.
It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?
If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.
From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.
You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.
'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'
'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'
And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.
And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.
But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.
Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.
In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.
The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.
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A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.
Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.
All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.
Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.
"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.
"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.
"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.
"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.
"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.
You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.
It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.
"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.
"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.
"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.
That's it—the elephant in the room.
Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...
There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.
Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.
"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.
And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.
But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.
"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.
"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.
"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.
"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.
And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.
Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.
When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.
"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.
That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.
You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.
Emily is who stops everyone's rant.
"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."
And this is how the discussion is settled.
Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.
When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.
"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"
You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.
"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."
"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.
You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.
Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.
"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."
Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.
"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.
Spencer nods and smiles at you.
"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."
If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.
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You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.
Everyone has a role in the plan.
Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.
Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.
When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.
"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.
"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"
Your cheeks redens.
"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.
"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."
You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.
"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."
"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.
One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.
At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.
For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.
Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.
"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.
The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.
As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.
Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.
Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.
Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.
You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.
Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.
At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.
"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.
"Show time," you mumble to yourself.
You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.
That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.
You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.
Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.
"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.
JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.
"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."
Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.
"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."
You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.
Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.
Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.
Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.
Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.
JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.
As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.
"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.
Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.
There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.
"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.
With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.
He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.
"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.
"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.
Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.
The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.
"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.
"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.
You get closer to him to speak in his ear.
"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.
Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.
You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.
"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.
You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.
It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.
Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.
When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.
As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.
Everything that happens after is too fast.
The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.
But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.
There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.
You shyly approach him.
"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.
"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.
"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.
"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.
Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.
Everything except that kiss.
If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.
A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.
You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.
What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.
"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.
"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.
"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.
Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?
"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.
A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.
There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.
"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.
"I know," you say with some hesitation.
"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"
Now, you are the one who smirks at him.
"Evidence, huh?"
"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.
"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.
Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.
This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 
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caffeinewitchcraft · 27 days ago
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The Fool Dies
Summary: You are a villain known for telling the future. When a Hero kills your right hand, you’ll let the future burn to get her back.
Hero Cowboy kills your henchman after you’ve already surrendered.
Gunshot silence, the scent of iron heavy in your nose, the crippling cold that floods your chest. All familiar sensations, companions you’ve carried with you since you even became a villain, but this time—
This time it’s…different.
You’re on your knees, the rock salt on the road digging into your kneecaps, with your hands above your head, the ghost of your signature smirk fading fast. The street isn’t empty. There are witnesses. The Hero pulls his punches when there are cameras and citizens and teammates. That’s what your plan says. He pulls his punches.
She asked if you were willing to bet her life on that and you said yes.
Your henchman’s body is stuck in the crumpled side of a car. You see her out of your peripheral, the pale oval of her face unencumbered by the mask you’d lovingly bestowed upon her six years ago. Cowboy backhanded it off of her as she was falling to her knees beside you. There is wet and red and twisted metal dancing foggily around her. The air is harsh and cold to breathe. The world is wavering as tears flood your eyes. You can’t blink them away. If you do, you won’t be able to see her just at the corner of your vision, you won’t be able to watch for a breath you already know won’t come, you’re afraid she’ll disappear—
“Clever to pretend to surrender,” the Hero says. He’s like a swan, spreading his arms out so the leather tassels lining the underside of his sleeves look like wings. He tips his head back so that the news cameras rushing in can catch the strength of his jaw under his wide-brimmed hat. She’d managed to singe it in the fight and the light catches in his blue eyes through the resulting hole. “Was it worth it, Prophetess? Was your attempt on my life worth the life of your sidekick?”
Snow falls, a few flakes here and there. The street is lit like the middle of the day thanks to the news cameras swarming out of the side streets now that the fight is over. The fire is being put out and thick curls of smoke rise from just beyond the gathering crowd of onlookers.
Your spellbook is lying a hundred feet away at the bottom of the lake. That’s why the Hero is flaunting himself in front of the cameras, trying to minimize her death at his hand. He did what he had to do. They were wrong, not him. Unfortunate but expected. The Hero always wins.
She’s gone.
The Fool. She always wanted a different name. But you were adamant she wouldn’t receive one until she earned one outside of her service to you. Until then, her name was a reflection of your journey. Your first step, foolish and unknowing, young and ignorant of the consequences. The name felt right when you called it and you never thought to question why. Only now can you taste your own cruel power in the decision. The power of prophecy spelled her fate out in front of you and, like always, you didn’t listen.
Your tattered cloak ripples in the breeze coming off the water. The vibrant purple is stained with soot and worse, the once smooth velvet charred and eaten away at by the Fire Cowboy’s flames.
They don’t remember that you surrendered before he struck. He’s dismissed your uncharacteristic action as an act, and so the world will too. The Prophetess always lies. Isn’t that the first line in your Hero Force file? The Prophetess has no powers of divination; she lies.
The world is magic. You believe it like the sun, like the earth, like the ocean—
--like her—
--and there is magic even here. The spell of your grief rises over your head like a shroud and, for a moment, you are drowning in the dark as the world heaves. You can taste the last cup of coffee she ever gave you going sour at the back of your mouth, the small daily comfort washing away under the metallic scent of her blood. There is a purple current around your thoughts, painful and biting. You will always be in this moment with her jester’s mask – cruel, you are so cruel – leering up at you, closer to your hands than her. How did you let her get so far out of reach?
Why didn’t you hold her close?
“I asked,” Cowboy says from directly in front of you, “if it was worth it?”
The world pulses back into purple focus. Cowboy is looming over you and the smoke of your battle rises into the night behind him. The media jockeys closer the longer you are silent and they’re inching around the car she’s lying against.
“Tell them to get away from her,” you say. Normal, your voice is so normal. Your arms are burning from holding your hands over your head and your neck aches from forcing yourself not to look. You are afraid your tears will fall if you blink so you stare at the gaudy belt buckle in front of your face. Your eyes are purple in the reflection and your face is as pale as hers. “P-please.”
Cowboy must kill all the time. He has no problem glancing towards the slowly gathering swarm and you can feel his eyes on her body as if they were on your own. “They’re trying to help her.”
“She’s beyond helping,” you say. Why would they even try? You can’t even look at her and you can tell that. “I don’t want anyone touching her.”
“They’re not monsters,” Cowboy says. There’s a scoff and then he’s crouching in front of you. He smells like singed leather. “Not like you.”
You’ve never seen the Hero this close. He’s older than you thought, only a few years shy of your age. His stubble is darkened with soot and his nose bears scars of past battles. His eyes—they’re not blue. You can see the edge of brown behind his contacts, the same deep brown as his mask.
“You killed her,” you say.
“No, you did.” He answers you so quickly it’s like he was waiting for those exact words. He tilts his head so the brim of his hat hides his lips in shadow. “She wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for you.”
He’s so confident that you nearly believe him. Your hands ache with phantom bruises from the blows and the weight of your sin falls onto your shoulders like the sky itself coming to rest there.
--------------.
 You see the trajectory of her life lined in gold. Her first day at your firm, her finding out your identity, her wavering in front of the window overlooking the Charlotte skyline as she admitted to knowing exactly who you are and how you’d been hiding more than your fair share of power all along.
That moment shines. She wasn’t the Fool then. She ripped her pencil skirt up the side as you debated her fate. When you asked her why, she said in case she needed to run.
“You would run from me?” you asked, eyebrow raised, conveying with expression alone how ridiculous you found the idea of her getting away was.
“I would,” she said. She grinned unhappily. “You can kill me, but you’ll break a sweat doing it.”
You laughed and held out your hand. When she took it, the outline of her life changed. No longer edged in gold. All black. A night sky all around her.
“You’re a fool for this,” you told her.
“The biggest one around,” she said, chagrined. Then she laughed with you.
You’ll never hear her laugh again.
----------.
There is a protocol for arresting a villain. Cowboy is already so outside of Hero Force code that it takes a while for things to be ready. He stands over you for the better part of an hour, smiling at the cameras, glaring you into submission, waving to the officers that eventually come to secure the scene.
An ambulance comes to take her body away. Only when they load her into it do you move. You watch the side of the vehicle like you can see through it. Cowboy tenses when it starts to drive away, but you don’t twitch. Her body isn’t her. If you start clinging to it now, you will never let her go.
“I know they call you Cowboy,” a woman drawls, “but you aren’t supposed to act like one.”
The reporters leap out of Strongwoman’s way. Barely five feet, Strongwoman is a super hero. Nobody is willing to get too close, regardless of how good and moral she is. The dark-haired woman is one of the few heroes who don’t wear a mask. No villain is stupid enough to think that makes her weak. Her dark eyes catalogue the scene quickly and efficiently. The ground rumbles as she approaches.
“Heat of battle,” Cowboy dismisses. His shoulders relax with another hero to support him and he shakes out his leather vest. Soot and snow falls from him. “Literally.”
“Hm.” Strongwoman finally turns the weight of her attention towards you. “Where’s her spellbook?”
“Bottom of the lake.”
“She hasn’t tried to summon it?”
“Her minion was in charge of that.”
Strongwoman’s voice whips. “We don’t call them minions.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be,” Strongwoman says. She folds her arms across her chest. She always gives the impression of being wrapped in armor and it takes you a moment to realize she’s wearing a tank top despite the cold. The muscles in her arms twitch. “That’s your third body this year.”
Cowboy hisses, eyes flying over her head towards the reporters. “Don’t—” A coalition of people in dark suits are already herding the media away. Cowboy’s lips thin. “Not in public.”
Strongwoman raises an eyebrow. She reaches down with one hand and hauls you up by the collar of your robes. “Fine. The car then.” She frowns at the way your hands hang by your sides. “You didn’t cuff her?”
“She doesn’t have her spellbook.”
“Protocol, Cow.”
“It’s Cowboy.”
“…”
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Strongwoman cuffs your hands behind your back. The familiar sting of power suppressors races up your arms. The last time someone managed to get them on you, the Fool had to break them off once you escaped. You feel her breath against the shell of your ear and her voice whispers, Now who will do it for you?
Her memory is another spell on you. The edges of your life – dark and violently violet – cover your eyes so that you’re blind and deaf to the world around you. Once this new incantation runs its course, you’re sitting in the back of a Hero Force car. The grate between you and the front seat is closed. Beyond it, you can see Strongwoman at the wheel, shoulders vibrating with tension. Cowboy is sitting in the passenger seat like a petulant child.
You read their lips in the rearview mirror.
--review, Strongwoman says. Three. Three deaths on your hands.
This one was just a villain—
Tell that to Foresight. I beg you. See how he likes that excuse.
Cowboy changes tactics. You know the Prophetess is basically an S-Class—
Without her spellbook?
She had it for most of the fight.
Did she?
You lean your head back and close your eyes. Cowboy’s been operating alone for too long. They’ll likely stick him in probation and then transfer him to a hero team with an established leader. Maybe Atlas’ team in San Francisco or Light’s team in LA. Hell, if they really want to punish him, they’ll assign him to Omit’s team in Chicago. The guy’s the most righteous and the most powerless leader out there. Cowboy might actually become a villain if he’s forced to follow that guy’s lead.
“He’ll suffer,” you say in your prophecy voice.
A speaker crackles to life overhead. “No divination,” Cowboy snaps.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” you say.
“Prophetess lies,” Strongwoman says to Cowboy. “Remember, she always lies.”
“It’s still a threat—”
“Prophetess,” Strongwoman says. “Let’s go over next steps. When we get to Charlotte HQ, you’ll be taken to a secure floor where you’ll be asked to remove your mask. It’s important that you understand your identity will remain confidential until your loved ones can be secured—”
“He killed her,” you interrupt. You watch the ceiling of the car. “I can tell you my identity now if you’d like.”
There’s a pause. “That won’t be necessary,” Strongwoman says. Is it just you, or is her voice a little softer? “There is a proper course to this investigation.”
The way she says it makes it sound like she’s promising you something.
It’s like your mind is scrambling for connection to her. There is nothing in what Strongwoman says that reminds you of the Fool. And yet, as the car falls back into weighted silence, one word rings. Proper.
There is a proper way, the Fool whispers. You could fight this spell, but don’t. You sink into the car seat the best you can with your hands behind your back. Hear me out.
Please, you think. By all means.
------.
The first time you ask her to dinner, you’re too hasty. There’s blood on the hem of your robes (possibly a tooth) and the city is still screaming the sirens of your escape. The Fool isn’t shivering like the rest of your henchman; she is standing next to you. Her Jester’s mask is carefully secured with three exact ties despite the haste with which she put it on.
“I can never wear this skirt again,” she says. She is standing on the very edge of the building, the toes of her sensible work shoes a bare inch away from nothing. “This was my best work skirt.”
The city sparks with the purple of your magic, violet vines climbing the buildings and blocking your view of the street below. Your magic is mostly illusion, but all power leaves behind a mark. Where your spell has started to fade remains a charred outline of leaves and flowers against the concrete and stone of the buildings.
While the rest of your minions look a bit like chimney sweeps, the Fool remains untouched. It’s an obvious sign of favoritism; you had room for one other person underneath your cloak and you chose her.
Somehow the memory of her pressed against your side as she used her power to lift you both up to the rooftop makes you blush.
“You don’t have any residue on you,” you say. “You can stitch it up.”
She scoffs. At you. “It’s recognizable, Prophetess.”
It’s really not. The black pencil skirt is the same kind she wore when you first met. How many does she go through? You find yourself smiling at her bare thigh.  Since she first told you she knew who you were, you’ve seen her rip at least three.
“Something amuse you?” she asks. Her voice is short and snappish, the tone she uses when one of the other paralegals aren’t as thorough as they need to be with the briefs. She turns to face you so that the setting sun lights her outline in orange and pink and gold.
“Have dinner with me,” you say.
And for a moment, the hope of her saying yes is as blinding as the sun behind her. Her lips part and you imagine that her eyes widen behind her jester’s mask. A wind picks at the long strands of her hair, sending them fluttering around her like a halo, and you’re standing so close that one brushes your cheek.
“There is a proper way,” she says and then stops. Her right hand twitches at her side. “There is—” is she stuttering? “This isn’t—Prophetess.”
You’re fascinated. She’s always so precise with her words. Even when you threatened her all those months ago she never once floundered like she’s doing now. “Hmm?”
“Hear me out,” she says.
You nod. “Of course.” You lean forward so that you’re only inches away from her. “I’m listening.”
“This…is not the time,” she says. You feel her attention slide to the others and then back to you. She hisses when she finds you even closer. “Prophetess.”
You don’t want to push too hard.
You lean back onto your good leg. “You let me know when it is time,” you say. Your lips quirk. “My little Fool.”
“Oh my god,” she mutters. She turns sharply on her heel. “Get yourself off the roof. I’m going home.”
You watch as she steps off the roof without hesitation. Her telekinetic powers are unique in that they can work on people too. You usually rely on her to get you home.
Maybe you should have asked her afterwards…
You turn to your other minions. Low-level villains without the drive or power to execute their own heists who all owe you the same favor. You raise your brow. “So how are you lot getting me off this roof?”
“You’ve got legs,” the Ace of Swords says.
“I broke my left one,” you say. And, to prove you aren’t lying, you draw away your cape to show that your pant leg is soaked in red.
The Ace of Swords stares. “This is why she said no.”
“Was that what it sounded like to you?” you ask. His surety makes you frown. “For that, you get to carry me down.”
The Ace of Swords groans as the other Swords flee.
-----------.
Your Swords are not always Swords. Sometimes they are Pentacles or Wands or Cups. There’s meaning to the costuming you put your people through, a meaning that escapes Hero Force.
“Where are the others?” Cowboy growls at you over the interrogation table. He keeps aggressively tapping the photos he flung in front of you. Grainy shots of your Wands storming through the Christmas Parade you used as a cover to kidnap the Mayor, blurry screen grabs from security footage of them as Pentacles in the art museum, a delightful brochure featuring them as Cups in a reproduction of Macbeth you used to do some light money laundering. “If you tell us, we might cut you a deal. Six of your people are being prepared for interrogation right now. Want to bet who breaks first?”
The ghost of you smiles behind your dead eyes, leans forward, and sneers in Cowboy’s face. That version of you is delighted by Cowboy mistaking six people for twenty-four and wants to play the interrogation game he’s offering. But the real you feels as heavy as lead and it takes all your strength to watch as Cowboy slowly works his way into a frenzy.
“For too long you’ve been tormenting this city,” he says. He shakes a finger in your face. “I told Headquarters, I said you were a problem when you first showed up in Raleigh. I said, ‘This one is going to come to Charlotte and she’s going to show up with an army.’ I did. I said that and now you’ve got the largest crew in America.”
“Quite the fortune teller, aren’t you?” you murmur. The Fool is at the front of the brochure, all done up as Macbeth. You’d tried to get her to be Lady Macbeth, but she’d insisted she be the main character for once.
You don’t understand Macbeth, you’d said.
His name is the play, she argued.
Lady Macbeth is the mastermind.
Did you read the play?
Did you?
Neither of you had.
Cowboy slams his hand on the table. “Look, Prophetess, I’m the only chance you’ve got at a deal. As soon as those DC heroes get in here, it’s off the table.”
Ha.
“It would be convenient for you if there were no witnesses,” you observe. “More convenient if you get to them before the DC crowd.”
“Witnesses to what?” Cowboy blusters. But he draws back and his gaze is colder than the Hero Force air conditioning that’s already making this room glacial. “To justice?”
How dare he lie to you? Her pale face haunts your peripheral vision. You can see her in the window of the interrogation room.
“To murder,” you say. Your glares clash when you finally look up at him. The soot is still in his stubble and you imagine you can smell her blood coming from his singed leather vest. “She surrendered. We all saw it.”
“She was an A-rank villain with telekinetic powers strong enough to crush my skull,” Cowboy bites back. “I acted in self-defense.”
“With us both on our knees—”
Cowboy whips his arm across the table, scattering the photos of your people into the air. He slams his hand again. “Last chance. Tell me where the rest of your minions are!”
In your holding cells, you stupid—
“You’re a pathetic worm of a man,” you say. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Let me say it in a way you’ll understand.” You adopt your prophecy voice. “The dust Cowboy leaves behind is red, red as the blood on his hands. His golden star is stained—”
You see the blow coming. Not a prophecy, of course.
You just know what heroes do when their buttons are pushed.
-----.
The second time you ask her to dinner, you’re too stupid for her to say yes. It’s not your fault though. How could you have known the Mayor had superpowers? He didn’t do anything besides embezzle taxpayer money!
“Maybe,” she says tightly, dragging your leaden and paralyzed body through the grand halls of the mayoral house, “you could have done a single iota of research instead of sewing all those costumes.”
Feeling is coming back into your hands. They still ache from finishing the elf-themed Wand costumes you’d made for your employees. You think the group costume of Five of Wands came out particularly well. All those little elves holding giant candy cane wands…a perfect symbol for the tumultuous election Season. You flex your fingers and then wince when the Fool’s nails dig into the soft undersides of your arms. “Ouch. Could you—”
“I am not slowing down,” she says. She grunts as she slings you around another corner. “We need to get to the backyard. Ace is meeting us there with the chopper.”
“Such a waste of money,” you bemoan. The chopper had been Two’s idea and all she does is maintain it. She won’t let you fly it until you get your license. “We should’ve got a boat.”
“Great idea,” the Fool snarls. She adjusts her grip so her nails are now digging into your shoulders rather than your arms. “A giant vehicle we have to keep in the harbor. The heroes would never find that.”
“Okay, you have me there,” you say. Your words are crisper now and you can even push a little with your legs as she pulls you into the empty kitchen. “But consider this. I could take you to dinner on a yacht. I can’t take you to dinner on a helicopter.” She stops in her tracks, head whipping down to look at you. Your noses nearly touch. You grin dopily. “Hi.”
“Are you asking me to dinner right now,” she asks in a tone that tells you you’d better be careful with your answer.
She’s so pretty. That’s why you aren’t careful when you slur, “Yes.”
She drags you through the doorway into the backyard. “I sure hope it’s the drugs making you this stupid.”
“Hey—”
“Hey!”
Both of you look back towards the house to where the Mayor has just appeared. He’s wearing the smoking jacket he’d monologued in and the handkerchief he’d used to drug you is hanging limply in his grip.
He points at you. “You. You should be unconscious! Nobody escapes my venom!”
“Oh gross,” the Fool says. “Does he make the sedatives from his body?”
“From his sweat,” you affirm. Then, raising your voice over the growing sound of the chopper and her gagging, “Maybe you should sweat better drugs, huh?”
The Fool coughs and wheezes. You recognize a laugh in the sound. “Don’t antagonize—”
The Mayor bellows and sweat begins to drip from his forehead. He mops at it with his handkerchief and then advances across the grass. “Get back here!”
“Hahaha,” you say, “He was definitely a hero. I know how to push their buttons.”
It becomes a race to who gets to you first; the chopper or the Mayor.
As usual, the Fool wins.
-----.
Cowboy isn’t allowed in your room after hitting you in the face. You can feel him lurking in the hall outside when Strongwoman takes the seat across from you.
“That…wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says and pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s sitting on a special crate they brought in for her. It creaks when she leans forward. “Are you sure you don’t need medical attention?”
The Fool is the only one you let tend to your wounds. Blood stings your eye. Cowboy was wearing his rings when he hit you. “I’m fine.”
Strongwoman sighs through her nose. She’s short and stocky, dark hair and wide nose. There’s a beauty to her when she’s still and quiet. When she moves? She moves like a threat. “We need to know where your base is,” she says.
“Home is where the heart is,” you say. And you killed mine.
Strongwoman’s lips thin. “Look, if you want the guys who speak riddles, we can wait for them. Or you can answer my questions and maybe we can come to some sort of understanding.”
“Interesting offer.” You lean back and contemplate her. “You have my spell book.”
“Except that,” Strongwoman says immediately. She winces. “Sorry. You’re in custody. The spell book isn’t even on-site anymore.”
“Then you can take these off,” you say, nodding to your cuffs. Their faint glow is making you sick. “As a sign of good faith.”
“Tell me everything about your operation,” Strongwoman retorts. She shakes her head. “Nobody believes you’re harmless without your spellbook.”
“Cowboy does.”
“Cowboy is operating under a lot of false assumptions,” Strongwoman says. She leans forward to match you. “Like the one where you have over 30 lower-level villains working for you.”
“Oh?”
“We have six,” Strongwoman says. “Tell me where the rest are and we can negotiate.”
Ha. She doesn’t know either. You are so good at costuming. It’s not like your henchmen can multiply. There are always just six with you and it’s through your costumes that they transform. You’ll have to tell the Fool—
Your mood sours. Tell the Fool. Who’s the Fool now? You’re not in the mood to play games. “I tell you everything, you let me talk to those you have.”
“No—”
“I don’t know everything about them,” you snap. “You’re asking me to betray my people. Fine, I’ll do that. You lot will pry and pull and claw until you find out anyway. But allow me to give them the chance to tell you about whatever family or loved one they haven’t told me about. If I must take them down with me, at least let them beg Hero Force for leniency for their loved ones.”
Strongwoman considers you. “And what do you want in exchange?”
“Let,” you clear your throat. Your eyes are hot and itchy. “Let me have a moment with them. To mourn one of our own passing. To—” you clear your throat “-to lay the Fool to rest.”
The silence sticks to the walls and builds. It presses into you on all sides until you feel like you’re in a coffin. You once told her you would die with her.
Not allowed, ma’am. I don’t think we’d go to the same place.
You swallow hard and stare at your hands.
“Deal,” Strongwoman says finally.
“Thank you,” you say. Your head bows until your forehead presses against your shaking hands. “Thank you.”
“Cuffs will stay on,” Strongwoman says gruffly. She pulls out a pen and pad. The pen looks like it’s made of metal. “Start talking.”
You do.
-----------------.
The third time you ask her to dinner, she stares at you for a long time. It makes you nervous in a way you haven’t been before, her unrelenting stare. Is it because she’s usually so quick? Or could it be because you can feel her eyes on your bare face for the first time since she stood in your office and called you a villain?
The same office you’re currently standing in now as the sun sets behind her?
“I have concerns,” she says at last.
Oh thank god. You’re smiling too widely. “I can work with concerns.”
“Can you?” Her eyes flash gold with the sun. “You keep asking me out while we’re working,” she says.
You blink. “Do I?”
“You do.”
You consider her words, leaning back against your desk. You’re wearing your pinstriped suit today and it’s getting a little tight. She feeds you before and after every meeting you have and you have a lot of meetings. “I’m always working.”
“That’s true,” she says. She turns on her heel. “And that’s the concern.”
You stand up. “Wait, how is that—”
She stops at the door and turns to look at you in a way that steals your breath. “I am not work,” she says. Her lip twitches. “Nor am I a fool.”
“I know, you’re—”
“Ace says they’re already at the meeting place. According to your schedule, we’re running late.”
“We haven’t finished talking.” You try to sound firm, like you used to. Instead, the words come out as almost a plea. “We can be late.”
“You’re never late. Besides, I hear it’s going to be a regular rodeo.”
“Cowboy? Ha! When did he blow back into town?”
“His probation period is up.”
“Lucky us.”
-----.
Lucky us.
You Fool.
--------.
You look over the bowed heads of your employees. Ace, Two, Five, Eight, Ten, and Page. The room Strongwoman led you to looks like the cockpit of a spaceship. Noxious blue light undulates up the concave walls. There are no chairs in here, no pulpit for you to stand behind.
So your employees kneel when you walk between them all to stand in the very center.
“Prophetess,” Ace says. Her voice is thin and high. “We—I’m so sorry.”
Two looks up. Her face is drawn and there’s a deep bruise along the side of it. “We know how it is to lose.”
“You do,” you murmur. You’re aware of the eyes on you here. You saw Cowboy sneering in the observation room on the other side of this one. There are cameras scattered like black stars across the ceiling. “I know you do. But there is a renewal in Death. If—” you swallow hard “-if you allow it.”
You expect fear. What you’re asking of them has happened exactly six times. The favor they owe is not only to you, but to each other. Death is the complete annihilation of everything you know. It can be the end. Or it can be the beginning.
But it takes people to begin.
And you have asked them too many times before.
“Anything,” they say as one.
Your head shoots up. “What?”
Six of your employees – your friends – return your gaze unflinching.
“If I have to redo everything again, I will,” Ace says. She presses a hand over her heart. You know a picture of her son lies there. “Time doesn’t matter. We won’t lose anything but time.”
“We know we can rebuild,” Two says. Her eyes are fierce. “We can do it better.”
“You taught us how to do it better,” Five says.
“I thought you would’ve already done it,” Page says. He scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t eat lunch thinking you woulda done it by now.”
“You didn’t miss much,” Eight tells him. Then, to you, “You did it for us. Again and again and again—”
“—and again and again and again—”
Eight punches Page. “Shut up.” She breathes in through her nose. “Prophetess. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
“The memories you have made will only remain with you,” you remind them. Your hands are shaking. This—you have asked this favor for the sake of others. Did they feel this vulnerable asking? So hopeful and so full of dread. “It will be different. Time changes all and you who have experienced it—”
“—will be like fortune tellers in a strange new land,” Ace says. “We know.”
“We’re okay with it.”
“Are you?”
The time is approaching. You can hear voices outside the room. Ten minutes. She’d promised you thirty, but you figured they’d interrupt sooner. Especially considering what you’re saying.
You breathe in deeply through your nose. You think of her pencil skirt and her flashing eyes and her warm smile. The ghost of her pale face is fading into blackness as this curtain closes.
Your resolve firms. It was a bad ending. As a villain, you’re allowed to rewrite those.
“Tonight,” you say in your whispering voice, “we rebalance the deck.”
The blue in the room flickers. The voices in the corridor gain urgency. The cuffs around your wrist flare and then go dormant.
“I see my son a babe again,” Ace sings. Her eyes burn with your purple power as she brings her hands up towards you. The memory of the favor you granted her rises with her words. “I hold his hand.”
The blue flickers purple and electricity arcs. The Hero Force suppressors are to stop superpowers.
There is very little they can do against fate.
“I see the bus that takes them away,” Page says. He doesn’t sing. His voice is as dry as the desert and he salutes you. His hand glows against his temple. “They get on it.”
“I see my friend at the crossroads,” Two says. She holds her hands palm up and tilts her head to the sky. Tears of neon violet fall down her face. “I follow them.”
“The power I have falls into my hands like rain,” Eight says. She cups her hands in front of her and they fill with your power until it spills over onto the ground. “I drink from it.”
“The harm I caused erased,” Five says. He crosses his arms over his chest and bows his head. A halo the color of lilac blooms over his head. “I atone.”
“I do better,” Ten says simply.  They stand with their hands by their sides. Their eyes burn with your power and they do not flinch. “I don’t bury them.”
Your power crawls along the walls. There are no more blue arcs of power. There are purple flowers and thorns that leave shadows in their wake. They seal the door shut and you are distantly aware that Strongwoman is trying to smash her way inside and can’t.
Fate takes a different type of strength to overpower.
“I see her again,” you say. The tides of the world pull at your long hair. You are drowning in light. The ground shakes under your feet. You think of her life outlined in gold, yourself outlined in gold. Is it possible you can see it glittering there in the unrelenting ocean flooding into you? “I see her again.”
Thunder crashes and everything becomes nothing.
-----------.
You are at your desk. You blink at the pages lying before you. A brief. A case. From four years ago.
You release a trembling breath. You never doubted it would work but it’s a relief to see not so much time has passed. Ace will still share some memories with her son. Page will not have to sit by his brothers’ bedsides again. Ten won’t be trapped in her father’s house.
The rest…the rest will not expect your help. You didn’t help them the last three times. Cruel, maybe. Fate often is.
You think Two is in Charlotte at this point. She mentioned something about a halfway house…
You freeze grabbing your coat as familiar footsteps echo from the hall outside your door. The skyline is twinkling with city lights, but it’s nearly midnight. Nobody should be here, you don’t remember anyone being here at this time—
The door opens without a knock. Her hair is chopped beneath her ears and she has a lip piercing and there isn’t a pencil skirt to be found. But it’s her. It’s her.
“Anika,” you breathe.
Her gold eyes flick to you, to your desk, to your coat in your hand. “You working?”
“N-no,” you say. Your words pile up behind your teeth. Do you remember? Of course you do, otherwise how would you be here. But how? Did I infect you? Did the outline of my life really drag you into my power enough--
Anika waits. When you continue to stare at her, she prods, “I’m not your paralegal.”
“You don’t look like you’ve even finished your degree,” you blurt out. You point. “A lip piercing?”
Anika rubs her piercing. “I’m not the Fool,” Anika says patiently.
A light bulb goes off. “Oh,” you say. “Oh!” You get down on one knee. “Anika, will you marry me—” Anika throws her purse at you. It misses by about three feet. You stand and try again. “I mean, will you go to dinner with me?”
“Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.” Anika rubs a hand over her face. “Everytime I give you an inch, you take a mile—"
“For the rest of our lives,” you promise.
Anika shakes a finger at you. “Dinner.”
“It’s a beginning,” you say cheerfully.
The best one you’ve ever had.
-------.
Thanks for reading! I do love my supervillain stories and appreciate you for making it through this one! Sometimes I wonder if I can even write flash fiction anymore haha
Next week's story is already up on my Patreon (X)! I'm super excited to share it as it made me laugh writing it. It's an AITA style post from a woman who used to be a Cryptid professionally and feels like she's made a misstep with her Slasher boyfriend.
See y'all next time!
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dutybcrne · 1 year ago
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Should he ever actually get the chance to be married, Kaeya WILL beg for the whole thing to be a private event with only family and/or closest friends
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junosmindpalace · 1 year ago
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you don’t like to kiss satoru when he wears his blindfold.
you understand why he wears it, and you don’t have any problem with it besides how distanced you feel from him when he tries to be intimate with it on. so while you never ask him to take off his blindfold, you simply refuse to engage him when he wears it. 
guilt eats at you for even feeling this way in the first place—after all, satoru’s health came before your own menial, selfish wants. still, you couldn’t help the uneasiness that came as a result of trying to be affectionate with him while half his face was completely blocked off from you. 
and satoru doesn’t like this. he’s not immensely clingy, or at least not often enough to call him clingy, but he does like to have you near him, tuck you into his side and steal a slow kiss or two from you on occasion. especially when he’s feeling stressed or annoyed does he seek out your soothing touch, which tended to be pretty often from how demanding the higher ups are of him. 
you’ll still lend a listening ear, lean in real close and scan his face as if trying to see those bright blue eyes of his through the dark mask he often wears, perhaps even wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his hair held up by the fabric around his head. and most of the time simply being near you, touching you in one way or another is enough to soothe his aching muscles and tense mind. but when he leans in to press his lips against yours and you dodge, he immediately realizes that it’s not enough.
“you’re mean.” he pouts, and though you can’t see his eyebrows crease in distress, you can certainly imagine it, and you laugh.
“when we’re at home.” you reassure him, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. 
he speculated for some time that you rejected him because of the setting, that it was unprofessional or perhaps embarrassing. but you had no problem angling his head toward you and stealing a kiss from his lips on the rare occasion he decided to wear his glasses to work, and so he eventually managed to piece together that the blindfold was the problem.
satoru’s frown only deepens, because he wants a kiss from you now. why should he have to wait to kiss his own partner? 
“just a small one. a quick one.” he tries to bargain, holding your elbows, but you only shake your head with an amused smile. 
��later.” you promise, and before he can press further, your students start to approach and your attentions are required elsewhere.
you uphold your promise, cupping his face and kissing him with so much love behind closed doors, as if you were anticipating the moment as much as he was—when his blindfold is off. but he’s still troubled by the fact that you refuse to kiss him with it on. it’s a part of him. do you think he’s ugly with it on? that’s got to be it.
he continues to whine and chase after your lips when the two of you are at work, but you only chuckle and angle his face away, and eventually it really strikes a nerve with him, frustrated over not knowing why you were so adamant on avoiding his kiss when he wore his blindfold. you haven’t tried to initiate, or even reciprocate his advances, even once! 
he brings up this concern one day when you two are at home, when your bodies are messily intertwined on the living room couch, satoru’s chin propped up on your chest and your hand cupping his face as you cuddled and giggled about whatever sort of conversation you were making that night. in the security of your shared home, and in your comforting embrace, does satoru allow himself to wind down, letting his cursed energy seep out, and using it as an incentive to relax a slight bit. 
you say something and he laughs, and upon seeing his smile and endearing eyes crinkle happily, you lean in to close the space between your lips.
he immediately reciprocates the kiss, the hold he has around your waist tightening. but then he remembers being in a similar scenario hours prior, and you refusing to meet his lips then. he pulls away gently as the dejection bubbles up in his stomach again, and his smile slightly drops.
“why don’t you kiss me when i wear my blindfold?”
the question, coupled with the blunt and slightly miserable tone satoru asks it with, catches you off guard, and his knit brows makes your breath hitch.
this was the thing about satoru without his blindfold. every piece of him—every vulnerable expression, every crease on his face, every emotion of his—was on display for you to bask in. rubbing your thumb over his cheek is welcome. there isn’t any fabric to bump into and make you feel like you’re being pushed out, make you feel like your affection is being suppressed.
satoru without his blindfold was open, intimate—whole. but when he wrapped the fabric around his eyes, it felt like he was also hiding a part of himself you adored. not the overwhelming strength he held in those enchanting cerulean eyes of his, but the love and affection they glimmered with when he was with you, a glimmer you’re sure was reciprocated in your own eyes as well. a part of him that displayed his adoration for you, for the things he loved most, clear as day. 
“it’s silly, satoru.” you tell him reluctantly, gently playing with his hair. his sad smile makes you feel guilty, gnaws at your heart. but the part of you that feels shut away with that blindfold overtakes an insecurity deep inside. “i don’t want to concern you with it.”
“you gotta tell me what’s up, sweets. think i’m ugly?” he tries to tease, and you roll your eyes.
“just feel distant from you, ‘s all.” 
voicing it aloud makes you feel just as small and silly as you told him it is. perhaps you were overthinking things too much. 
you’re afraid to explain any further, because you don’t even know if you can without sounding even more insecure than you feel, but satoru immediately understands, and all the tension he’s built over the situation melts away in an instant, and he chuckles.
“like my eyes on you, huh?” he wiggled his brows, and you scoff, moving your hands down to his neck. he leans in a little closer, speaks a little softer. “they’re always on you.” 
your heart flutters as satoru kisses over the side of your jaw, giggling at the slight tickling sensation. he mimics your smile from against your jawline when he hears you laugh. 
he thinks he understands. if he wasn’t able to see those gorgeous eyes of your as they crease when you laugh, or gaze up at him in awe when he pulls away from a kiss only you could make so sweet, he thinks he’d also feel shut out, robbed of that small but intimate and beautiful part of you that leaves him breathless. he had a responsibility as the strongest to keep himself in line, but he also had a responsibility to you. he committed himself to that responsibility ages ago when you first met. 
satoru stares up at you from the crook of your neck, and it’s as if there’s hearts in his eyes, a sight that never fails to fluster you when you realize that it’s all directed toward you, a result of you. it reminds you just why you were so insecure in the first place. why would you want to kiss him when he wore his blindfold when you were deprived of this sight while doing so?
“just try to kiss me with my blindfold.” he mumbles, and it sounds insensitive after what you told him, but it’s exactly why he wants to prove that not a single ounce of love for you is hidden away when he wears it.
you frown, but still reach to grab the black band from when he threw it on the coffee table hours ago. you wrap it around his eyes for him, feeling slightly saddened by the sight already, but his lovesick smile never falters.
as soon as your hands lower from behind his head, he’s gently pushing his lips against yours, and it feels every bit of kind and loving and special as it did when you kissed him without it. his lips move slowly, yet passionately, with yours, and for the first time, your hands move to cup his face in reciprocation. the touch elates satoru like nothing else in the world, and you can’t believe you ever expected anything different.
when he finally pulls away, you could swear you see those bright blue eyes of his staring at you with that dizzying gaze that makes you feel light and loved. the blindfold makes you feel a lot more exposed than he is though, and you can’t help but blush and bring your hands over your face to try and even the playing field.
he laughs at this reaction and tries to pry your hands away from your face. “so? anything different?” he grins, feeling proud knowing he accomplished his goal from your reaction, and you laugh. 
“i still prefer it off.”
“that’s fine,” he hums, lowering the band so it hangs loosely around his neck with one hand, bringing your hands down away from your face with the other. “i prefer it off, too.” 
and from then on you become a little more comfortable kissing satoru with his blindfold on, and he’s over the moon at you now indulging him when he’d pull you into a random empty classroom and lean in close.
but he doesn’t see the harm in compromise, however, so he’ll indulge you too. and when he’s feeling particularly eager, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist, quickly tug his blindfold down to his neck, and capture your lips in a breathless kiss. 
whether he does this in an empty classroom or to say hello or goodbye before heading off on a mission with his students, you get to see those mesmerizing eyes of his shine with all the affection and love he holds for you. 
besides, you can't help but admit that it’s even more satisfying when he does it in front of others, tugging the blindfold off simply for your sake, showing off to everyone else the state you reduce him too. 
so perhaps you’ve grown to like kissing satoru when he wears his blindfold.  
12K notes · View notes
multi-fandom-imagine · 9 months ago
Note
If your requests are still open may I request Adam, Alastor or Lucifer doesn't matter which taking care of sick reader? I'm sick rn, like can't breath though my nose and sore throat all that jazz
A/n: I AM SOERY FOR MISSING THIS! Tumblr never lets me know! I hope you feel better!
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Adam:
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"Shouldn't you be resting? Didn't I order you get someone else to do this shit?!" Adam didn't mean to snap but you were sick and yet here you were working.
Wrinkling his nose, he took a step towards you then lifted you onto his shoulders. A small squeak left your lips as the angel carried you off towards his room.
"Adam" you let out a small cough, too weak to struggle. "Put me down! I have to work"
Nearly tossing you on the bed, you let a groan burying your face into his pillow as he slipped into next to the spot next to you.
"Didn't you hear me? Someone else can do it." He muttered into your neck. "Now get some sleep, when you wake up I'll get someone to bring you some shit to make you feel better."
Alastor:
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Stopping his show, Alastor slowly made his way towards the sound of the constant coughing. Gripping his cane tightly the demon opened his mouth until he saw who it was. It was a pathetic sight really.
You curled up into a small ball coughing away, tissues all around you. He could see shivers wracking your body.
'Idiot, he told you not to stay out, he told you this would happen.'
Part of him wanted to brag about it, to gloat to you but how could he really gloat to someone he...cared about. { that was something he was still getting used too }
Now hovering about you, Alastor let out a dramatic sigh he lifted you up in his arms. "Let's go so you can be back in tiptop shape."
Groaning, you nuzzled into his chest as you let out another cough. "T...thank you." Your voice raspy as your eyes slipped closed.
"Oh dear, you do not have to thank me."
Lucifer
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The moment you mentioned to Lucifer that you weren't feeling well the man whisked you away to the bedroom. He did his best to make you as comfortable as possible, he couldn't have the one he loved being sick.
Sitting on the bed, he pouted fixing the cold press on your head. You were still feeling warm, he hated that, he hated seeing you sick.
Flinching from your cough, he sat down on the edge of the bed holding your hand gently. "Do you need anything to eat? Drink?....how about another blanket?"
Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to give him a smile as you squeezed his hand gently. "Can you cuddle me?"
Lucifer's eyes went wide for a moment though his gaze softened as he nodded his head. "Anything for you."
4K notes · View notes
st4rbwrry · 3 months ago
Text
𝒲𝐻𝒴 𝒟𝒪𝒩’𝒯 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝑀𝐸?
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ꔫ eren fails to realize you’re in love with him and has a hard time committing. until he doesn’t have a choice but to face his fears.
꒰ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ꒱ ꔫ . . .14.4k. fem reader, lowercase intended, best friends to enemies to lovers + locked in a closet, angst, lots of kissing omgie, lotss of fingering, kreamer!, conflicted feelings, oral [ f + m ], praiseeee, spanking to a t, onyankopon cameo + small fight, toxicity, multiple orgasms, rennie gets jealous, miscommunication + arguments, car sex, use of the 'n' word, small daddy kink usage, self pleasure, biting kink, eren's kinda mean, dom / sub dynamic from both, college au, both are needy, relationship establishment, pet name usage [ baby, mamas ] , minors aren't welcomed! reblogs + comments are appreciated! <3
ꔫ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . got my heart broke so cheers to this one!
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pretty boys with eyes like his never made you want to vomit. you adored every aspect of him, always something nice to look at. it's such a shame men who look like him, ungodly creatures, had the worst fucking personalities. or so make horrible decisions in life. fumble good women. why ruin your aura? standing mere centimeters away from him to protect it currently. though you feared he'd already tainted a portion of it. collateral damage was done. he ruins the psyche of your brain when it comes to men, or being in a relationship period. you don't want to be heartless. that lover girl in you wanted to bloom like a daisy, spread her wings like an angel, and showcase herself proudly like a peacock with the one person she's loved since she was a preteen. instead, you're dealt with being mean, standing your ground, and pretending he didn't have a lock on your heart beating with need. so, yes, looking at his face, the boy you were so dangerously in love with, made you want to vomit. 
him, stubborn as usual, stood broodingly in the corner of the closet with his strong arms folded over his chest adorned in a black crewneck tee, stainless steel chain around his neck as you study the adam's apple in his throat shift at the same time he swallows in the awkward silence. solid black jeans clad to his muscular thighs, heavy leather boots covering his feet. his scent is so masculine it fills the small space; moroccan mint with woody cedar musk. that heavenly umber hair of his long in his face, growing inch by inch as the months fly by, close to grazing his shoulders. 
you cannot believe your friends barricaded the door just so the two of you could talk out your 'issues'. which, in your view, only means an apology from eren for what he did. the night had gone fine. you, eren, and a couple of your friends all going out to catch a drift meet-up. connie had gotten his taxes back and blew it all on installing skull rims and wrapping his scion frs a pearl lavender. being there mostly to cheer him on as he showed off his precious baby. afterward, grabbing ramen from a spot in chinatown. everyone decided to kick it at your house since you had a spacious living room and all the games.
since you and eren haven't spoken in two months, you kept it cordial. well, that's a lie. briefly spoken. the interactions between you two are nothing short of hi's and hello's. ' how've you been? fine, you? yeah, i'm cool. oh, you got a new tattoo? yeah, the other day. that's nice. hey, congrats on the new home. thanks.' quite frankly, your friends have gotten sick of it. it was ruining the vibe of the group by the two of you being so distant. surrounded by each other in your dimly lit living room, high ceilings, and abstract art while soft rnb played soundly in the background. eren sunk comfortably into your velvet emerald green sofa alongside connie, ymir, and armin. sitting opposite of you while you rested on your loveseat with a glass of sangria in your hand. swirling it while smiling and laughing at any question picked from the stack of cards from a game titled 'we're not really strangers.'
you hated the internal connection you and eren held. no matter what was going on, listening to each of your friends spew nonsense and hysterical laughter, you couldn't keep your eyes off one another. you'd glance, admire his features while deep in thought about all the good things, then the bad. and when he'd catch you, more like feel your burning glare, you'd immediately revert your attention to something else. vice versa. both of you were saying a lot without saying anything. 
"꒰♡꒱, it's your turn!" the sound of your name being called kicks you out of your conscience, blinking to clear your view when you realize you'd lost it glaring into your wine glass. you clear your throat, your right leg that's thrown over your left jumping up and down. 
"oh, sorry!" you smile faintly, straightening your posture to lean forward and snatch one of the red cards from the deck. 
"you're getting tired, aren't you? you're always the first one to fall asleep," ymir pressed, chewing on her newly popped in gum as she manspreads, long arms sprawled behind connie and armin onto the headrest.
“it’s just the wine getting to me,” you suck your teeth, your statement being true. the alcohol in your system making you feel more things than one. flipping the card, you read what it says. 
"what are you attracted to that you know isn't good for you?" the inhale and exhale you create as you stare blankly at the card in your hand makes it all too known of the answer you wanted to say, but won't. unexpectedly, your sight scrolls to him, and it makes goosebumps arise on your skin from the look he doesn't give you.
“you're right, i am tired. think i’m going to head to bed.”
the crew watches as you remove the kuromi throw blanket off your lap and take a stand, eren’s eyes strong on your figure as you down the rest of your wine. ymir’s eyes shift between you and him, the urge to say something stronger than ever. though, connie beats her to it. 
“nah, sit back down. we need to talk.” 
you glare at him, eren doing the same, and everyone’s silent. connie leans forward, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to rub frustratingly at his temple. “let’s be adults and just address the elephant in the room.” 
“what are you talking about?” 
“you know exactly what i’m talking about. this silent, petty feud between you two has been going on for damn near two months and i'm sick of it.” 
“agreed,” armin nods, pushing his blonde hair away from his face, clenching his jaw in the process. “we’re too fucking grown for childish behavior. the two of you need to talk and situate your issues privately.” 
“they’re right. it’s fucking up the vibe of the group,” ymir pitches in. 
deep down, you hate to say they were right. but you still felt like you had nothing to say to him, let alone nothing to apologize for. if anything he owed you one. and you’ll stand on that because he’s fucking immature. 
“i pray y'all aren’t thinking i’m the reason for this. if we don’t remember, i’m not the person who fucked on another girl around the same time he supposedly wanted to date me.” 
that’s when eren picks his head up, throwing silent daggers your way. you’re trying to make him out to be a villain when that wasn't the case. “we had already established that we were just friends. i don’t know why you still have this insight that i, what . . cheated on you or sum?” 
the blood in your veins began to boil, scoffing angrily and prodding your inner check with the point of your tongue. “right, because i’m that delusional.” 
“stop,” connie squeezes his eyes shut, getting fed up even further. “this bickering shit is the definition of childish. please just go talk, i’m getting a migraine.” 
“as long as he’s willing to be honest, sure. but if he’s just going to waste my time, then i have nothing to say,” you shrug, uncaring.  
“in some way you still want him around, because if that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t be here,” ymir counters, not fond of your sudden attitude. 
“i can speak for myself,” eren interrupts, tired of being the pass around subject. “i don’t have a problem talking. . . if she’s not g’na punch me.” 
“nigg—” 
“alright!” armin raises to his feet, tall body towering yours before he’s lifting you off your feet and tossing you over his shoulder quicker than everyone could blink. a gasp falls from you, wriggling your feet as you yell at him to put you down, groaning like a child. 
armin finds the nearest closet and sets you down in it, giving a look not to try it. it’s rare to see armin irritated, so he must’ve really been fed up when you see his eyes go dead as he glares at you while raising his palm telling you to stop. you pout, crossing your arms and huffing as you take a seat on a pile of shoe boxes. turning his head, he sees eren sighing and standing to his feet before willingly entering the closet. 
armin steps out, giving a fatherly obedient look between the two of you before closing the door. “be nice. handle your shit. we’re going to grab food.” 
“food?” you gasp. “wha—i want some!” 
“greedy,” eren remarks under his breath. you shoot him a deadly glare. 
“fuck you say?” 
“i’m not arguing with you over food.”
“wait, are we really getting food?” ymir whispers to connie who confusingly raises his hands. 
“no, we’re going to sit here until they figure their shit out,” armin whispers back, taking long strides back towards the couch where he plops down and sinks into. stuffing his hands into his gray hoodie pockets after lowering the hood over his head, closing his eyes. 
“they’re gonna fuck, watch,” ymir chuckles, getting up to search your pantry for more liquor, maybe even digging in your fridge for food, now that they mentioned it. “y'all want pasta?” 
“what kind?” connie looks up over his phone. 
“mhm,” ymir continues to scout, grimacing at your close to empty fridge. “she only has ingredients for pesto pasta. healthy bitch.” 
“pass,” connie and armin reject simultaneously.
“more for me!” 
now here the two of you stood, in utter silence. you’re avoiding his sharp gaze as much as you can, twiddling anxiously with your fingers. this is the last situation you want to be in right now. the warmth in your cheeks when you catch him staring is the bitch of all trades. that love you held deeply in your chest for years magnetically pulling you to submission. to care. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing loudly in your ears. taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself down. this was important. the two of you needed to get past this if there’s going to be any change to your relationship. this had to be fixed. 
“it seems like you want me to start,” reeling you in, his heavy feet hit the ground the closer he gets to you, nearly standing over you in all of his handsome glory. the air shifts and it feels hotter. you can practically hear the swallow in your throat. why did he feel the need to be so close? who knows. maybe it’s some sort of intimidation tactic. “where should i start?” 
“hm, i’d say — apologize for being misleading,” your response is nothing but blunt, your emotions getting the best of your original intent. 
eren’s mouth goes agape, chuckling with genuine confusion, brows furrowed in concern. “again, how was i misleading? we've never been anything but friends. i never led you on or made you feel like there was something more between us."
“eren, you literally told me that you wanted to try something new and be apart of me on a deeper level than you were. this was after we had sex, twice need i remind you. then, i find you fucking another girl the day you initiated us to hang out. then you had the nerve to argue with me, and call me fucking crazy.” 
“i didn’t call you crazy. i said you needed to go home and sleep off whatever shit you were on that night because you cussed that girl out and almost beat her face in for what? we are not together, ꒰♡꒱.” 
“i know that,” the muscles in your jaw spasm from the pressure you put into gritting your teeth. the pain of his denial cutting deep. “you say it as if it’d be such a nuisance. that ‘you’re my best friend’ shit went out the window years ago, and you and me both know it. it’s not my fault you have a hard time with commitment.” 
“i don’t have a hard time with commitment,” he scoffs, patience fraying. “i told you that i care for you, and you mean a lot to me. that i have love for you, not that i was in love with you. i value our friendship above anything.” 
the more he speaks, the more you come to the realization that this is becoming a waste of time, as you expected. there’s a burn in your throat that’s coaxing the tears to well in your eyes. you’re not going to cry, he doesn’t deserve to see you that way. and it felt pathetic to even do so. he’s throwing the truth directly in your face, but somehow . . you find it hard to believe him. there’s just that small hope that deep down inside he felt the same. 
“i don’t understand what you’re afraid of. are you not attracted to me? am i not enough for you? is there another girl on your mind?” and that’s when the desperation pours. that level of dissecting yourself to grasp the context of why he doesn’t want you. your leg bounces out of anxiety, scratching at your thigh with the point of your acrylic. trying your hardest to keep yourself from having a mental breakdown. 
eren’s eyes soften at your reaction, his mouth going dry at the clear effect this had on you. months, years worth of emotions built up for him. it makes a heavy pang in his heart, wondering how he could be so blind and stupid. his intentions were never meant to hurt you. 
“why would you think that?" eren asks, tilting his head slightly. "i never gave you any indication that you weren't good enough for me. why can’t i just not be ready?”
the words roll off his tongue easily, like they were rehearsed. “if you weren’t ready, eren, you could’ve just been upfront with me to avoid this shit from the jump. i would’ve went about my life if you laid it down on the table in bold fucking letters. but every time we were together, you made me feel like — we had a chance. the hugs, the kisses, the ‘i love you’s, the sex. you treated me like i was your girl. and i could say i’m running with the subject. but, i wouldn’t do that if i didn’t have something being fed to me. i’m not an idiot.” 
“i just —” he goes to knock his head back, blowing out a huff of air as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. “i don’t want to hurt you, ꒰♡꒱. i don’t know if i can be the person you need right now. i can’t give you what you want. it’s complicated, and it’s not fair to you. i like you, a lot. i can’t explain my exact feelings, but i’ve always been attracted to you. i thought once that maybe it could work out between us, but the more time goes on, the more i realize how fucked up i am. you deserve better. and it kills me to say even that.” 
this was triggering for some reason, feeling claustrophobic from the close proximity of his body between the small space of your closet. it’s all making you sick. you felt like you were going to have a panic attack if you stayed in here with him any longer. standing up, you brush past him to rush towards the door, twisting the knob frantically only to find it locked. fuck. groaning, you bang on the door, anticipated to kick it down if no one let you out in the next five seconds. 
“꒰♡꒱, stop and take a breath,” eren’s well aware of how you get when you’re stressed out, actions turning frantic as you rest your forehead against the cold door. “baby, look at me.” 
"oh, nah. we a little late for that,” you respond after you turn to face him, shaking your head. “see, you say shit like that because you know how i feel about you. you’re real good at manipulating me. real good. you make me feel like i'm drowning by the weight of my emotions. i hate this, hate this. you make me too vulnerable. and you call me baby? h-how else am i supposed to think?” 
“i’m sorry,” his hands go to grab your arms. your body stiffens under his touch, a shiver running down your spine at the contact. you can't help but notice the sincerity in his eyes, the conviction in his tone. part of you wants to believe him, to accept that this is truly all there ever was between you. but the other part, the part that's been carrying a torch for him for years, refuses to let go so easily.
“please believe me when i say that. i never, ever meant to hurt you. and i truly do apologize for not being honest from the beginning. and i will continue to apologize because i genuinely feel bad.” 
his voice is softer now, less defensive, more genuine. it's clear that despite his initial reluctance, he does cherish your friendship, and he values your presence in his life. but, you’re still conflicted. 
"i — i don't know, eren. i don’t think i can accept that,” you whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. the weight of his rejection settles heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe.
eren hesitates briefly before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. the warmth of his body seeps into yours, providing a comforting counterpoint to the cold reality of the current situation. it stuns you, your body slowly relaxing into his hold, letting the familiar comfort wash over you. he’s laying your head endearingly on his chest, brushing his hand along the back of your head. suddenly, eren slowly pulls from you, his intense stare into your eyes blurring your thoughts, glitching when he tucks a curl behind your ear before inching his face toward yours and shockingly kissing you.
your eyes widen in surprise as his lips press against yours, the suddenness of the gesture leaving you momentarily stunned. but as the sensation registers, your body responds instinctively, melting into the kiss. your hands come up to rest on his chest, fingers digging lightly into his shirt as you return the kiss with equal fervor. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of the moment. it's as if the last two months of hurt and confusion have never happened, and you're transported back to a time when the possibility of something more between you seemed within reach.
eren breaks the kiss abruptly, pulling back with a flush on his cheeks. you look at him, searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort or regret. but instead, you see something else entirely — desire, longing, and a hint of uncertainty. he swallows hard, opening his mouth to say something, but no words come out. instead, he closes his eyes tightly, shaking his head slightly. "fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t know why i did that,” he mutters, turning away from you.
the air grows even heavier, and you can’t help but to pull him back into your grasp, his heavy hands sitting on your hips he grips roughly to pull you closer. his mouth is back on yours within seconds, widening his jaw to deepen the kiss, your lips smacking and your back suddenly pressing against the wall. as the kiss intensifies, you moan softly, feeling a wave of heat wash over you. your hands slide from his face to his shoulders, holding him tightly. 
your hips grind against his, seeking friction, craving the closeness that only he can provide. every inch of your being screams for more, for a deeper connection, for a fulfillment that only he can offer. eren groans into your mouth, his own hands roaming over your curves, tracing the contours of your body with a hunger that belies his previous reticence. he presses himself harder against you, his erection throbbing with need. his movements become more deliberate, more urgent, as if he's trying to bridge the gap between you two with every fiber of his being.
“your legs are shaking,” he whispers, now resting a hand on your inner thigh. 
you nod shyly, his big hand making you pulsate. you spread your legs wider. “touch me. please."
his tongue swirls around the side of your neck as his breath tickles your skin, making you shiver slightly as he continues the kisses down to your collarbone. then, his hand moves up your thigh more, now moving it’s way under your short black skirt to pull your thong to the side, eyes rolling back into your skull when his fingers make contact with your soaked clit. a simple touch from him easily arousing you. 
"talk to me. i need to hear your voice."
eren removes your shirt, needing so badly to feel your skin beneath his burning fingertips. whispering into your ear as he talks you through it, placing his fingers back onto your clit. “you're enjoying this, aren't you?" 
“you make me so wet,” you whimper, raising your right thigh to give him further access. 
“i bet i do,” your body prickles with fire the moment he takes your neck into his hold to choke you, his brows furrowed as the two of you listen to your sluice clit he rubs circles onto. licking his lips, he spreads your lips apart before sinking his fingers in knuckle deep, the illicit squelch making his dick shift. both of you make the same expression of pleasure, eren moaning from the strong grip your pussy has on his fingers, missing that. 
despite the overwhelming pleasure, you manage to stifle your cries, biting your lip to keep silent as eren’s fingers curl inside you, stroking that sweet spot that makes your vision blur and your legs tremble. he removes them momentarily, collecting your juices to rub your hardened clit again. you pull him in to moan into his neck, tugging onto his long hair, eren responding to your silent plea by plunging his long fingers into your dripping cunt.
“mmm, fuck,” your face curls up from the heat swimming in your lower tummy. feeling the way you moan into his neck sends shock waves through his body. the grasp on his hair only makes him apply more pressure to your spot, pushing you further and further.
“look at you taking that shit. you love my fingers?”
you nod drunkenly. "yea, love your fingers." 
"you love my fingers, baby?" he hums in your ear condescendingly. 
"i love them so much, baby," you whine, unable to control your breath. 
“fuck,” eren couldn’t take it anymore, crouching before you to hungrily latch his lips onto your clit. a high-pitched moan flows past your mouth unexpectedly, eren lifting your leg to set it on his shoulder, sucking you into his mouth, and swallowing every drip that leaks from you. 
“cover your mouth, pretty. you sound too good. ima bust.” eren’s mouth never leaves your pussy as he speaks, his words muffled by your wetness. 
each thrust of his fingers sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, while his tongue works on your clit, coaxing moans and whimpers from your lips. eren’s mouth works tirelessly on your pussy, his tongue lapping rapidly over your clit while his fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. he alternates between long, slow strokes and quick, frantic thrusts, determined to wring every last moan from your lips. his free hand grabs your ass, squeezing the plump flesh as he pulls you even closer, ensuring that not an inch of your body is left untouched by his desire.
your back arches off the wall as the first shockwave of your climax rip through you, your thighs quivering and your pussy spasming around eren’s fingers. he doesn't let up, continuing to lick and suckle your clit through the aftershocks, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. as the sensations begin to subside only a little, you slump against the wall, panting heavily. eren reluctantly pulls away, his lips glistening with your juices. he looks up at you with a smirk, his own arousal still evident. 
"fuck, you real sweet," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust, standing back on his feet while keeping his fingers inside of you. craving more. "you're making this really difficult for me, ꒰♡꒱.” his breath grows sharper. "you're so loud when you moan for me. tryna make everybody hear you?" 
"your voice," you hiccup weakly, speaking the thought aloud, loving how he talks to you. 
"you like my voice?" he hums, planting a sloppy, haste kiss amongst your pouty lips you’d bitten red. he raises his brow, repeating himself since you’re so fucked out. “you like my voice, right?" 
"yes, daddy," you scream out. 
"daddy? that's new," the grin is all too evident. you're too deep in your pleasure to acknowledge the embarrassment. nodding along. not seeming to care that you're barely conscious. 
"erennn! m'gonna cum!" you warn, gripping onto his shifting wrist, arching your chest into his. 
“gimme that shit then, baby. cum on my fingers like you always do. so goddamn needy.” 
uncaring of the people outside of the closet, you whine his name loudly, gyrating your hips into his palm your pussy gushed on. as you struggle to maintain control, your orgasm builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly before bursting forth in a torrent of ecstasy. gushing on his fingers. eren's eyes go wide, slapping his big hand over your mouth to somewhat muffle your sounds.  
"shhh, fuck mamas," he stares at you with desire, keeping his fingers moving. "pussy drippin’ all on me." 
you stare at him blissfully, that pretty little head of yours thinking of nothing but how good he just made you feel. how hard he made you cum. even with just his fingers, it felt like nothing you've felt before. dazed, and unable to speak, you reach to unravel the belt on his hips connected to his heaving stomach. you've got him so fucking horny he's not sure if he can stop you right now. no longer giving a fuck who hears. that's their problem. it’s their fault anyways. 
"i want it," you give him widened eyes, noticing he left his head for a moment. 
"i can't stop once i start, m'telling you that right now,” his breath hitches, following your guide of undoing his jeans. 
"i. want. it," you repeat slowly, making it clear. 
“mm, that was sexy,” he grins, pecking your lips once more. you giggle when he lifts you up, turning and pulling one of your jackets off a hanger to lay down so you won’t hurt your back, the gesture making you smile stupidly. 
"this closet is too fuckin' small, my back hurts," eren complains. 
his jeans are clad to his waist, small beauty marks littered around his stomach up to his chest area. v-line sharp and abdomen toned with fairly tanned skin. he exudes masculinity. his pubic hairs are dark, trimmed as usual, and his dick sits heavy on your mound, a pearl of precum forming at the tip just daring to be licked up. your mouth watered every time you observed him. his attractiveness something you’ll never forget. you gasped when he taps your clit with his dick, hearing the two of you connect makes the big man above you groan desperately. 
"put it in you," he spanks your inner thigh, holding them up and open for you, his entire body arched dominantly over your small frame. “don't hurt yourself." 
“ ‘kay,” you nod shyly, wrapping your palm around his dick, the skin hot and rushing with blood, sucking your pudgy stomach in and lifting your head up some more to see at a better angle. relaxing your hips, you breathe slowly, rubbing his tip up and down your entrance before carefully pulling him into yourself. 
“nng,” you whimper, face scrunched up from the pain of the stretch. he’s aware by now of how much time you need to take him fully considering his size. 
“breathe, babe. you think too much, that’s why it hurts,” he whispered, kissing your forehead to keep his composure. he’s only halfway in and he feels like he’s close to nutting. “let go, lemme work it in.” 
you listen, laying back down fully while eren takes the lead. he’s gently swaying his hips to maneuver his way in, both of you watching it go in and out with fascination. his dick is thick, and it feels like he’s splitting you open every single time. but once he’s inside, you love that feeling of being stuffed, being completely apart of him. his body is now in full contact with your legs, eren hissing, a rumble in his throat borderline feral as he fucks you hard once he’s sure you’re okay.  
because you’ve came twice, you already felt sensitive and easy to another orgasm. it didn’t mean to happen so fast, but the moment his pace picks up, his thighs clash heavily against your own as he pressed your tummy down and fucked you deep, and you cum again. squeaking and trembling beneath him, the wet patpat of his dick pounding into you making you both dizzy. eren spews expletives in repetitions silently, watching your eyes go white, pretty individuals wispy on your lash line. 
he sees how much effort you're putting in to keep your noises in. “fuck them, lemme hear you.”
now his face is in yours, his moans burning your stomach even worse. it feels like a sickness how much you get off from hearing him, or any sound of weakness he makes. 
"god . . eren!" you hiss in pleasure. 
the heat was overbearing. the small proximity of the closet mixed with your skin connecting salaciously made you equally sweaty. beads of it sticking to eren's forehead, dampening his brown hair, turning them into curly ringlets. in no time, eren pulls himself out to fist his dick, twisting his wrist as he tugs his orgasm out of himself, cumming on your warm stomach. 
“shit, baby. you feel good every fuckin’ time,” he’s leaning in to give you another kiss. he sits up on his knees, dragging your thong completely off to wipe up his mess. “i can give you better. i wasn't done." 
you laugh and place your hand on his face, pushing it away with laughter. "move, boy. i need to get out of this damn closet.” 
"fine," he rolls his eyes playfully, fixing his pants and standing to his feet. "ima head to the bathroom.”
"hey," you protest with a pout. "come get me, i'm sore. you fucked me into the floor.” 
“i put the jacket down,” eren goes to grab for your hand and you make a disgruntled cry. 
“pick me up, dummy." 
to your luck the door ends up being unlocked now, and that gives you a clear explanation that they were in fact ear hustling. when eren opens the door and you’re huddled behind him shyly, the only person asleep was armin. connie ended up powering on your playstation to play the last of us two while ymir watched in agony over the storyline. the game gets immediately paused when the two of you show your faces. eren’s is stoic as usual, while yours is filled with embarrassment as you hide behind his tall figure. 
“i knew y’all were fucking listening, perverts,” eren calls them out, a cocky smirk displayed on his features. 
“got a little loud so we needed a distraction,” ymir replied, laughing as she stared at you. “i see you had a good time.” 
“not too much,” you warn, rolling your eyes playfully. 
“we talked just like y’all wanted. so, thanks for that.” 
you pout. “aren't you glad we made up?" 
"oh, definitely, for sure," arrogance is laced in his voice, turning back to them. "y’all got to hear us become really good friends, huh?" 
there’s that word again. friends. it bothered you again. that uncomfortable feeling in your tummy daring to ruin your mood. so, you brush it off. 
"y'all not g’na fight no more? cause i'm sick of it.” 
"we found a new way to fight," you break in a joke. 
"so remember that shower we need to take?" eren reminds you. 
"shower?! aw hell, they locked in." 
"bring your ass," eren swats your behind, possessively placing his hand on your hips to tug you along. you stumble next to him with a giggle, tripping over your feet up the stairs as he laughs at you, the two of you rushing towards the bathroom. 
this is the first time the two of you ever shared a shower together, talking as normal as you watch each other bathe. eren admires your beauty, having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. a few moments of you swatting them away happening. you knew it was your house, so you could do whatever you wanted. but already having sex with him knowing your friends were mere inches away felt improper. as you lathered your body in soap, he traces your skin tenderly. you look up at him with starry eyes, emotions coming to full conclusion. you might actually love this man. he feels that spark, studying your face like a lovesick boy. 
"what?" you ask cluelessly. 
"nothing," he swallows, internally punching himself in the face. he's holding back again. unable to understand why. what's he protecting exactly? himself or you? he's unsure. 
eren slips his same attire back on while you toss on an oversized nightmare on elm street t-shirt after lathering your body in baby oil. you mentioned to eren that you were hungry, and he offered to drive you anywhere you wanted to feed you. rushing down the steps in a pair, you catch only connie up this time, ymir passed out sleep on your rug flat on her back. 
"finished showering?" connie asks, being slick as usual. 
"it was sooo fun," you exaggerate, raising your middle finger. "we're getting food. bye!" 
"bye!" eren copies with a chirp, mocking your excited wave. 
since your apartment resides near the campus, the area you lived had plenty of food joints, some that would stay open later than usual. you decided on denny’s since it was seven in the morning by this point and you didn’t want to eat too heavy knowing you were going straight to sleep once you get back. the line is long and the two of you stand fairly close together. you cling to his side, making the initiative to hold his hand. eren's unsure, again, why he's withholding how he wants to feel. he drops your hand, leaving you to feel awkward and out of place almost. you felt a pang in your chest from the action, taking a deep breath, ignoring it, and waiting to be seated. 
the service was pretty quick, ordering what you both wanted which was a stack of pancakes with bacon and home fries and receiving it within ten minutes. he does his best to try and enjoy his food, though his gaze keeps shifting over to you. your mood changed, he obviously noticed since you’ve barely spoken, hiding your face in your phone to avoid conversation. it's bothering him. he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this for the time being. so he decided to eat his food. 
"why'd you drop my hand like that?" 
he stops eating, looking at you as he sets his fork down. it takes a minute for him to figure out what you’re pressing about before he recalls. “sorry, i just didn't want people thinking the wrong thing." 
that takes you aback. what the fuck? “and what would be the wrong thing?" you raise your brow with irritation. 
"look, i just don't need people in my business." 
"why do you care what people think?" the anger is kicking in. maybe you were overreacting. granted, you two didn't establish your relationship fully. you also didn't think it was a big deal to hold his hand. it's like your confession earlier never happened. 
"i don't think it's a big deal. i would rather not have to deal with people asking uncomfortable questions. it'll lead to a lot of unnecessary drama." 
"you mean with them bitches you fucked," you retaliate. "because god forbid you have a girlfriend, right?" 
"who said you were my girlfriend?" eren asks rather coldly. and that makes you silent. he realizes then how rude that came out. that's not what he meant. "wait, i'm . .” 
"basically, to conclude, you don't want to date me. noted." 
"i never said that . . .” 
"so, what then, eren? am i not good enough for you to show off? you wanna keep me a secret? like some girl you just fuck, who, by the way, you admitted your feelings for. normal people date after shit like that gets said. i don't care what people think about me, that's your problem." 
“of course you don’t, there’s nothing to think about when you only spread your legs once a year. you aren’t fucking on people like i am,” he replies, a bit too quickly, a response that is barely thoroughly planned out. he tried to apologize, but the words ended up getting caught in his neck. “i —”
"end of conversation," you snarl. that was so low of him to say. 
“i just meant you don’t express yourself sexually like i do. not that it’s a problem, i just have a reputation. i told you i’m not in a place to be what you want right now.” 
"i’m doing my best not to punch you in your fuckin’ face right now, so i advise you to be careful what you say next. in fact, don’t say anything at all.” 
words aren’t spoken for the majority of your meal after that, unable to finish all of your food since all you wanted to do was go home and cry in your pillow. he keeps toying with your heart again and again. it’s wildly frustrating. he pays the tab and you’re on your way back home, the car ride is silent as well. before you go to exit, he stops you. 
"can i say one last thing before you leave?" 
you turn to him, dead silent. 
"i am sorry for everything i said. you're right, i shouldn't care so much about what other people think. i should've said that from the beginning, and i didn’t mean to call you out like that. that was disrespectful, i admit. i just want us to be like we used to be simply because i hate hurting you. you mean a lot to me. you’re my best friend.”
left stuck, you only say what he wants to hear. "i understand. i just need time to think." 
"i understand." he says back, shifting his eyes back towards the steering wheel. 
you don't seem as angry as before, mostly because you’ve mentally checked out, so he's not entirely sure what else to say. he just wanted to let you know he meant everything. but, it's far too late for that. he'd said enough a few moments ago. and it's exactly what you needed to hear to realize that he'd never be ready for you. he'd never be mature enough for a relationship. he'd never see you as his first choice. still keeping that childish mentality of fucking girls to get his nut and ruin their hearts. it's enough. 
eren goes inside to grab armin and ymir to take them back to the dorm since they drove here together. connie lets himself out, everyone says goodbye, and you close your door without giving eren so much as another look. 
𓇼 
three months fly by and you two never contacted one another. eren noticed you avoid him on campus whenever you spot him. weeks of eyeing his phone for your text or call. he got the message clear, but it hurt his feelings, possibly on the same level he hurt yours. he stalked your account any chance he got, never missing a story. it was the only access to keeping a piece of you with him. that only lasted a month before you soft-blocked him. making your story unavailable to his eyesight but never having the balls to unfollow . . . just in case. having that small feel of hope that he'd come around and show you that he's everything you want in a man. albeit fairly likely.
all eren can do is go about his life and hope that you’d make the decision to keep him in yours. connie noticed how down eren was today, dragging him to come watch the homecoming football game. he’s dressed depressingly in black sweats with a dark green hoodie, resting his back against the bleachers with his eyes shut, trying to block out the exaggerated screams people made for the team. it’s a big game considering it’s the last before winter break, and it’s home based. eren peaked his eye open to watch connie chow down a hotdog, obnoxiously chewing and catching his irritated glare. 
“is it good?” eren bluntly acknowledges. 
connie raises his middle finger unspoken, ignoring his moody friend and focusing on the cheerleaders twisting and flipping. “oh, there’s ꒰♡꒱.” 
eren shoots up in a flash, the hood over his head hiding most of his gorgeous face. “where?” 
eren follows connie’s guide pointing in the direction you stand. and there you were, looking pretty as ever. he swore his heart skipped a beat. gorgeous face with a light beat of makeup, illuminating a soft, dollete glam with pink blush, brown lip liner, gloss, and heavy highlight on your nose and inner corner of your eyes that glowed under the beaming lights from the football field. your hair is straightened, styled in a half up half down with the bun spiked, enhancing your facial features. incredibly cut dark-washed denim shorts hugging your thighs while a baby pink oversized jersey covers your top halve. 
eren studies you like a lover does poetry, heart awestruck by your beauty, your aura radiating halfway across the field. god, he misses you so damn much. that daydream lala land in his head comes to an immediate halt when he spots a guy laughing in your face as the two of you bump noses in a disgustingly cute eskimo kiss. the muscles in eren’s jaw shifts, his eyes lowering and darkening as his posture changes. straightening his back and spreading his legs wide before he’s moving his neck and chest forward like a venomous snake, observing your interaction intently. 
it’s honestly scary how quickly his anger consumes him, his entire body going up in flames as he stares at the two of you like a giant crow hiding in the trees. his body is solid, barely even breathing as he finds torture in you pouring gatorade into this man’s mouth, his helmet in one hand while the other brushes your hair away from your face, bright white teeth shining as he smiles at you. you use a towel to dab off any excess sweat from his brown skin. then, eren realizes something. he knows this guy. 
onyankopon. a quarterback, a valedictorian in high school, and a student in his physics class. eren grows jealous. it was clear to him that you had a thing for him, eren trying to avoid showing any hints of jealousy so connie wouldn't bring it up even if deep down inside, he felt it. eren watches you giggle in onyankopon's face. he's way too close to you. it bothers him beyond comprehension. you and onyankopon have been messing around for the exact time you broke contact with eren. fucking around every now and thence, attending classes, and enjoying your life since it didn’t end when the man you were madly in love with rejected you. you were attracted to him for sure. he made you laugh, cooked for you, taught you how to ride his motorcycle. . a bunch of lovey shit you never felt before. but, your feelings for eren ruined any chance for you to be fully devoted.
it’s hard for eren to even sit through the remainder of this game, barely paying attention to the players and eyeing you almost the entire time. cheering, jumping up and down whenever onyankopon made a move let alone breathed. you’re like a goddamn fan girl. your friends seem to encourage you, purposely pushing you into him at times when he ran back over for your opinion. it’s like he finally exhales when the games over, connie knocking him from his trance of scrutiny. 
“yo, let’s go. we gotta party to get to.” 
the sigh is loud from eren, exasperated so. “who the fuck said i was up for a party? we have finals in two days. you dragged me from studying for this shitty ass game.” 
connie raises his hands in defense. “woah, fucker. you gotta stick up your ass, pull it out.” 
“i’m going home.” 
as eren begins to rise, connie refuses to move out of his path. “this is about ꒰♡꒱, isn’t it?” 
his shoulders raise defensively. “tread lightly, con.” 
“save me the bullshit, eren. for once just act like you give a fuck about the girl and go talk to her. this has been a repetition. how are you ever going to solve issues if you’re constantly running from them?” 
“she doesn’t want to speak to me. she made that extremely clear.” 
“did she say that, or did you just make her feel it?” 
eren didn’t have time for confrontation, stretching his leg over the bench to cross over him, walking away. “whatever, man. i’ll see you.” 
connie clenched his jaw, scoffing. “see, that’s your damn problem now! you can’t admit when you fuck up. that girl loves you to death and you keep playing in her fucking face! now you’re mad ‘cause you see her with somebody else. that’s bullshit and you know it.” 
eren stops in his tracks, and pulls the hood off his head before slowly turning back in his direction. “okay, maybe you’re right. i’m a fuck up. she already made up her mind by ignoring me for three months. i’m not forcing anything.”
“how do you know she’s not waiting for you to step up and finally do the chasing?” connie arches his brow. eren rolls his lips. “you had that girl hoping and waiting for you to finally reciprocate your feelings, and you lead her on back to back. she chased after you while you thought with your dick for other women. i’m sure she’ll be at the party. go find her and talk to her. and if she’s not fuckin’ with it, then you’ll know to really leave it alone. simple as that.” 
and that’s how eren ended up at the party. it was packed, obviously. they’d won the big game and chose this celebration as an excuse to get fucked up. connie smoked with eren for a bit before he disappeared to talk to some girl he’d been trying to date. eren's drinking heavy liquor, conversing somewhat with some people he knew to clear his head a little. there’s a few women who try to shoot their shot towards him, but he politely declines. the ‘my girl is here’ line seems to work. speaking of, he can't help but be distracted by you. seeing you dance with your friends, act a fool, and flirt with onyankopon whilst sitting on his lap. it enrages him in a way he can't explain. 
not to mention you're wearing his varsity jacket, snuggled into it. this is the last thing eren wanted to find. he wasn't planning on his blood boiling as he stood at the doorway, knocking back the remainder of his hennessy and approaching you the minute he watched onyankopon stick his tongue in your mouth, the two of you lost in each other as you kissed. he doesn’t comprehend his own body movements when he brushes through a sea of people to come your way. 
"what the fuck are you doing, ꒰♡꒱?" eren interrupts, glaring at you furiously. he had a right to be mad, right? weren't you the one who ignored him? blocked him? avoided him? 
you're stunned to see him, let alone hear what came out of his mouth. "excuse me?" you retort, shellshocked by his behavior.
"some nerve you have to act like i don't fuckin’ exist for three months, then i catch you sitting on somebody's lap like it's nothing," he's being outright rude and blunt, unsure if he's aware of it. could've been the alcohol, or what he's been feeling for months piling up into one bubble. and he finally let it burst.
onyankopon grows irritated by this. not only did he interrupt the two of you, but he was talking out his mouth crazy. "i know you ain't talking to her like that." 
"i don't remember stuttering. i'm looking dead at her, aren't i?" eren's stern with his remark.
his statement is senile, your head immediately pounding with a migraine from his stupid ass attack. that's when you get mad. "what? last time we spoke, you told me you didn't want to be with me and only saw me as someone you wanted to fuck on the low. so what the fuck makes you think it's okay to yell in my face about some shit you ended?!" 
"oh, he's lost his fuckin mind," onyankopon chuckles sinisterly, not even giving him a chance to reply. shaking his head in a 'this nigga got me fucked up' kinda way. your heart speeds up in panic as onyankopon's hands hold onto either side of your waist before he gently lifts you to stand along with you. "eren, right?" 
eren can feel his cheeks burn, the anger intensifying now that he's face to face with onyankopon. your heart is ready to drop out of your chest at the thought of them fighting right now. please, no. "i'm sure you knew that, don't ask stupid questions." 
anyone can see the heat building up in onyankopon's eyes, the people in the area whispering to one another while watching. your anxiety is skyrocketing. two big men fighting over you would be hot inside of a novel, yes. but you hated the idea of violence. especially from men. it triggered your flight mode and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball and cover your ears like a scared child. "guys, wait —"
"nah, baby. let him finish," his hand goes up insinuating a pause. "nigga got so much shit to say to you on some pussy shit. be a man and talk to me.”
before you get the chance to say anything, eren’s fist goes flying into onyankopon’s nose, his head aggressively knocking to the side, looking as if it spun off his neck for a moment. "how's that for some pussy shit?" 
gasps fill along the room, your hand going to your mouth as you watch onyankopon swing back, connecting his hit back. two of his teammates go to hold him back, knowing this isn’t some shit he needed to get into right now. you take the initiative to grab eren’s attention, knowing it’s dumb to jump between men in rage, but you felt like only you could stop him right now. his face is as red as a tomato, grabbing and tugging at his shirt with all of your strength he’s surprised you can even move him. almost stumbling over from your aggression. onyankopon’s friends drag him away from the situation before it got worse. in the process, he noticed you didn’t look his way not once, not even to check if he was alright. 
"eren, chill!" you finally snap. "let's go out back and talk. you're fucking embarrassing me." 
everyone watches as you drag him by his shirt like a bad ass child, shoving open the door that lead to the back area of the fraternity house, a few people there but you find a spot under a tree further down the hill. finally letting go, you take a few steps away from him, ready to blow from the anger streaming in your veins. thankfully, the smell from the lake and the wind blowing soothed you in some way. your arms are crossed over your chest, listening to the muffled noise of music booming inside the house and shutting your eyes. 
“eren, what are you doing here?” 
“connie dragged me here. believe me, i would’ve never come. especially after seeing you two boo’d up at the game. he your man now?” 
a sarcastic snort comes from you, twisting your body and looking his way. it’s been months since you’ve made contact with this man, and his aura still pulls you in. you truly despised it. “you need to apologize to him for starting an unnecessary fight. you don’t even know him to be acting like that.” 
adding salt to the already open wound, eren responds with a petty shrug and a scoff. “he had that shit coming.” 
“wow,” the smile lines around your mouth deepen and your lower lip pokes out as you frown, making an expression of disbelief. "you have a lot of nerve acting like you're my boyfriend when you settled for friendship only. do you not recall? or do i need to refresh your dry ass memory?” 
he's bitter about the situation still, that’s clear as day. he also assumed you were okay after the conversation you had in the car that night. but, he was wrong. he remains silent, fearing that his jumbled thoughts would fuck up what he really wanted to say. 
"if you couldn't see that i was hurt about what you told me that night, then you truly don't care. i kept my distance because you knew how i felt about you and you chose to be oblivious. i met ony and he made me forget about you. then you break back into my life whenever it's convenient for you. i'm not going to be available for you on your terms." 
"so you're using him to get over me?" 
"as i'm allowed to because you're not my man!" you narrow your brows. "aren’t you the same one that said i only spread my legs once a year? you’re mad ‘cause it’s not for you anymore, right?”
“you know i didn’t mean it like that.” 
“me and ony are just friends. whatever we got going on is none of your concern." 
"it's my concern if we gonna be together. therefore, he gotta go." 
"oh, now you wanna be with me," you scoff. "you're three months — no . . six months late. if you don't recall, you tried this shit before our friends forced us to make up. again, due to your ignorance of my emotions. i shouldn't have to wait for you to decide whether or not i'm worth being in your future. i am not a fantasy! i'm not here for you to fuck when you need to feel something! i deserve someone who's going to love me and give me the romance i crave! you don’t care enough about me no matter what you say.” 
tears are welling in your eyes now, and that breaks eren's heart beyond measure. "꒰♡꒱ . . ." 
"fuck, i didn't want you to see me cry," you sniffle, wiping your eyes aggressively. 
he let the alcohol completely steer him away from his initial goal, and that was to speak to you like connie had got on his ass about. not make you upset. he doesn’t understand why he keeps breaking his promise to stop hurting you. 
“i'm horrible when it comes to making any commitments. that, you were right about before,” he states, your eyes drawing back to his. "it wasn't fair of me to invalidate your feelings all those times. i knew you wanted to be with me, i just couldn't bring myself to be honest about what i wanted. more so, i didn't know what i wanted at the time. but being disconnected from you, my best friend . . it hurt my fucking soul."
the oversized varsity jacket clinging to your body brings you comfort, wrapping it tighter around yourself out of anxiousness. the scent of onyankopon’s cologne on the fabric brings you even more sadness. you feel bad for what happened, needing to find him to apologize when you get the chance. 
"i have so, so many regrets when it comes to you. so much time wasted, things that could've been avoided had i been mature and upfront. expecting you to be available to me because of our relationship was wrong of me. using you was wrong of me. leading you on, pushing you away, fucking with other girls when you were right here . . it was selfish of me, and i'm a dick for it all, i admit that. and i want nothing more than to apologize and make up for all i've done. you didn't fucking deserve that." 
suddenly, he's holding your face in his hands as you weep, both of you unsure of when you broke the distance between you two. "please, please don't cry baby. i'm so sorry." 
words could only mean so much. you weren't sold yet. if he wants you for real, he's going to have to make a better offer than just words. false promises were a learned matter with him. he needed to prove how much you mean to him. 
"i'll do everything in my power to make sure that i am the man you deserve," he whispers, his hold on your face beginning to tighten as you pull him closer by his shirt out of habit. "promise i'll treat you right. i'll never make you feel like you're someone to fix me when i'm going through shit or i'm horny. i'll never make you feel like you have to compete with other women again. i'll never take you for granted again." 
his face is now inches away from yours. his voice, his scent, the warmth he brings, it makes you feel so vulnerable. . . so safe. like that invisible string never broke. eren screaming with hope within, praying you reply. it feels so good to feel your body pressed against his, the scent of your conditioner wafting into his nostrils. he hugs you tightly, afraid that he'll lose you. he's been craving this for so long. 
"i missed this. i missed you," he murmurs between your neck, his grasp becoming a little tighter. you feel his chest slowly rising and falling as a soft sigh escapes his lungs. as the silence continues to grow between the two of you, it's becoming harder for you to find the words you want to say to him. 
"say what you want to say," it's like he read your mind, swallowing deeply before pulling your face back to eye level. he looks down at you. 
"i can’t accept your apology." 
eren slowly pulls away from you, a frown on his face and heartache yanking at his chest. it’s his karma, he knew that well. there was no reason to push you into something you no longer wished for. you’d made up your mind, and he just had to live with that. in the future, possibly learning from his mistake. he swallows, nodding as he backs away, accepting your answer indefinitely. 
“if that’s how you truly feel, then i will respect your boundaries. i’m truly sorry, again. i hate to leave things behind on a bad note, so i wanna tell you that i pray you find the love you deserve, and that i wish you nothing but the best.” 
a final touch of his lips lands on your cheek. eren’s giving you one last smile before turning to walk away. a broken weep cracks from you, lower lip trembling as you hug yourself tightly like he had only seconds ago. he’s halfway gone before you watch him pause, eyes unable to bring them from his figure. you felt like you’d lose the memory of him if you didn’t look. this felt like a horrible breakup neither one of you wanted to end. 
eren’s caught reaching into his jean pocket, pulling out his wallet before he approached you once more, the sadness on your face making this worse for him. “i almost forgot.” 
out of nowhere, eren grabs your hand, opening your palm and placing a cold object into it. you stare confusingly, leveling your palm towards your face to see a sterling silver necklace. it’s a simple piece of jewelry with a single initial. the letter ‘e’. 
"i’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while. i carried it with me every day,” he smiles warmly. 
a mix of surprise and shock washes over you, your brown eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights, or a girlfriend being proposed to. you stare at the necklace in your palm, feeling the featherweight of it, the cool metal against your skin. memories flood your mind — all those times you shared laughing together, graduating high school, sneaking out to see each other, sharing secrets, dreams, and hopes. this symbol represents all of that, and yet, it also reminds you of the pain, the betrayal, the shattered trust. your gaze flickers up to meet eren's, seeing the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability, the raw emotion. part of you still loves him, still wants to believe in him, in your relationship. but the other part is screaming at you to protect yourself, to move on, to forget. 
"e as in eren," you gasp, lip still trembling. 
"well, yea," he laughs softly. it’s a tangible connection to you, even if things have changed. eren watches your reaction closely, hoping against hope that seeing the necklace might change your mind about him. he swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion. "i was planning on giving it to you when the time was right, even though i wasn’t exactly sure when that would be. i know it's not much, but . . i thought maybe you could keep it as a reminder of our friendship. of everything we shared."
he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin. "please, ꒰♡꒱,” he whispers, his voice cracking. "don’t throw it away. keep it close to your heart, and remember that i’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens between us."
you notice how close he is to you, and you feel a small amount of nervousness start to set in again. but, you don’t let it show in your expressions, focusing instead on trying to hold yourself together. this was a lot. you’ll always cherish the memories you have together, but, was this really goodbye? did you want him to completely disappear from your life? he’s someone who’s been apart of it for so long. you couldn’t imagine life without him. three months was hard enough, even the two before that. you didn’t want him to be a stranger. you didn’t want him to never speak to you again. you didn’t want to sever your relationship entirely — your connection. 
“i love you, ꒰♡꒱. i really mean that.” 
before he gets the chance to touch you one last time, you're leaning in first, lifting yourself by your tiptoes to press your lips into his. his nose smushed against yours, inhaling sharply as he grabbed your throat, kissing you deeper. as always, you melt into his touch like putty, your entire body bursting with fire when his fingertips brush against your hips under your jersey, pulling you into him harder than he intended. scared to let you go. eren grunts into your mouth when you moan into him, gliding his tongue across yours salaciously, his back arched to bend to your level. another hand huge on the side of your face while he kisses you passionately, turning his head slightly to the side while maintaining his clutch around your throat. 
eren gasps into the kiss, the sudden surge of warmth flooding his senses. his mind goes blank as he loses himself in the sensation of your lips against his, your taste filling his mouth. the hand on your hip tightens instinctively, drawing you closer until there's no space left between you. the unexpected kiss throws him off balance, but he doesn't care. all he knows is that he's lost in the moment, the tension between you both finally breaking. his free hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your skin as he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours.
“fuck, i love you,” he repeats again, now applying pressure to your ass he squeezes and lifts, his bulge hitting your stomach. it makes your gut flip when he bites your lip, your hands unknowingly trailing up his abdomen, the bumpy path of his abs giving you flashbacks. 
now, he’s kissing along your jawline, down your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your collarbone. his hands are everywhere, roving over your body, caressing and gripping like he can’t get enough of the way you feel against him. his lips move up to your ear where his breath tickles you, your inner thighs locking tight. he murmurs softly into your ear, “i want you . . need you so badly. can i?” 
he sounds slightly breathless, his need for you obvious in his low tone. “can i touch you . . please?” 
“where’s your car?” 
there’s a pause as he registers your question, his mind slightly clouded from the feeling of you against him. “down the street, why?” 
“take me.” 
“you sure?” he asks. even though the desire for you is written all over his face, there’s a hint of hesitation and question in his tone. he needs to be sure this is something you truly want, even if your body speaks before you do. 
“yeah, i’m sure.” 
he takes your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and leads you down the hill to where his car is parked. you’re not sure what time it is, but the streets are nearly empty, only a few people roaming around drinking and smoking, the party is still very much still happening. tucking your hand into your pocket, you drop the necklace safely there, feeling protected and giddy as you trail behind him. his frame is so much bigger than yours, staring at the back of his head where he had his hair half tied up, wanting to bury your face into his back to smell him. you spot his black r34 gtr and within seconds you’re standing in front of it, almost as if you teleported. he must’ve been walking really fast. 
he releases your hand to dig for his keys, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side to adjust the seat fully up and make enough room for you both. you’re more at ease knowing his windows were tinted, illegally the blackest of black. with each inhale, he can feel the intensity of the situation starting to build up once again, raising his body only to have you push into him, his body leaning against his car as you squish your lips back into his, growing impatient. 
"wait. ." he paused in between kisses, the heat between your thighs becoming unbearable as he hissed into your mouth. "backseat, now." 
his eyes are trained on your ass as he watches you duck low and climb in the back, practically shoving you inside as he looks over his shoulder before following behind not a moment later. the space is snug, his broad body compared to your own not making the best room, but he’ll make it work. eren pushes you down onto the backseat, covering your body with his own as he resumes kissing you, hands sliding under your shirt to fondle your tits. the way the two of you kiss is feverish, open-mouthed with heavy pants of desperation. the way you equally missed each other spoke loudly through it. 
“take this shit off, it smells like him,” eren possessively begins to tug at the varsity jacket clinging to you. forgetting you still had it on. 
“sorry.” 
he tosses it to the front once it’s off, clutching your throat and tugging at your denim shorts with his unoccupied hand. you understand silently, unzipping them and lifting yourself in an awkward way to remove them along with your pale pink new balances. eren has one knee digging into the seat while he balances himself above you by holding the driver's seat headrest, the other foot flat on the floor as he watches you like you’re prey. 
“you’re so damn pretty, baby. miss you,” his hands go to smooth over your inner thighs up to your knees, your shirt rising to your midsection. 
"mhm, show me how much you missed me," you spread your thighs, pink lace thong swallowing your curves, giving him the obvious hint while balancing yourself on your elbows. 
eren’s mouth waters at the sight, your pussy already leaking for him, the material swallowing you up real good. he mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath, wetting his lips and pushing your knees to your chest, cuffing a finger into the band to pull to the side, groaning at the sight of your bare skin, glistening in your slick with your clit hiding between your lips. he knows he just needs to spread them to see her fully, his favorite part. the soft texture of his tongue carefully begins to graze against your skin, sucking and taking in the smell of your body. a surprised squeak escapes your throat as you feel his finger press against your tight entrance.
"no fingers," his dick jumps from the command, moaning as he spanks the outside of your thigh gently while running his tongue over his bottom lip. "just your tongue." 
“y’not gonna let me feel her?” eren coed teasingly, whimpering when he smacks you again while leaving a sloppy kiss onto the mound of your pussy. “stretch her out f’this dick?”
you crack a grin, back resting on the door while you scoot your ass further down to grind onto his face. “not yet.” 
the sudden sensation of your hands in his hair only fuels eren’s arousal further once you draw him closer, growing needy. his thick tongue slithers out his mouth, pooling with salvia as it laps at your clit with renewed vigor, the taste you leave on his tongue sweet and tangy — intoxicating, driving him wild with lust. it’s so damn good he can’t help but spank the outside of your thigh near your ass, the vibration going straight to your clit and it’s almost like he can feel it when it hits you. moaning into your pussy he gives sloppy kisses while your thighs shake. 
“mmm, yesss," you moan in approval, needing him to do it again. until you're bruised. 
his face heats up from the noises you make, a reddish tint on his cheekbones as he shifts his jaw to suck your clit into his mouth, slick dousing his chin as he pulls your puffy clit between his lips to tug and release. 
"keep going," you arch into him. eren smacks you again, a little harder, and a broken, high pitched hiccup erupts from you, followed by a dragged out moan of his name. 
with a final swipe of his tongue, he feels your body shudder and convulse around him. your cries fill the air as you cum hard, coating his face with your essence. he laps it up greedily, humming and savoring every drop. you didn’t expect to cum that quickly, face heating up from shyness as you cover your face and whine. eren chuckles into your pussy, spluttering as he detaches his lips and buries his face within the curve of your hip bone, unable to stop himself from laughing. it’s silly because this is the second time this has happened. the first being when he ate you out on the hood of his car after getting tipsy during game night. feeling like the alcohol influenced it, but he knows you didn’t drink tonight since he kept an eye on you. 
“shut uppp!”
“that literally took a minute!” he’s clutching his stomach now. 
“you know i’m sensitive,” you pout, popping him on the arm. “make me cum again. unless you can’t.” 
“mhm,” eren nods his head cockily, shocking you when he spanks your clit, scarily switching from playful to dominant. “don’t say that shit when you know it’s wrong.”
eren takes a seat on the opposite side, pulling you to sit on your knees, leaning over him as his eyes lock onto yours filled with a primal hunger. your palming at his thighs still covered in dark jeans, using it to balance your weight as eren stretches his left arm behind you to rub your clit with his fingers, collecting your arousal before sinking his pointer and middle into you. he quickened his pace, pumping his hand faster as he fingers your soppy cunt.
the combination of his hand movements and the sensation of your warm breath on his face sends him spiraling. "fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with effort. “can’t wait to have this pussy on me.” 
“eren, touch yourself,” you whine, petting at the shape in his jeans, undoing his button and dragging down his zipper. 
eren keens almost submissively, lifting his hips so you can push his jeans down to his knees, eren releasing his hard dick that throbs excessively in his hold. it’s big and pretty, just like you remembered. a dick you’ll never forget for sure. the curve of it makes it touch his stomach, eren rushing his thumb over the tip, wincing from sensitivity and stroking it vertically away from him. 
"let me spit on it," you chew at your lips, rocking your ass back into his hand, every touch making you feral, inner thighs soaked. 
eren nods with lidded eyes, his breath hitching as he waits for your saliva to coat his slickened fingers. the thought of your spit adding another layer of lubrication to his dick makes him even hotter. gathering your salvia on your tongue, you purse your lips together before spitting onto his dick, a cute ‘puh’ emitting as the two of you watch it trail onto his ring covered fingers, eren groaning and twisting his wrist to spread it along his length. 
“just like that," he encourages, his voice barely above a whisper. "stroke your hand over it, baby. c’mon.” 
you moan, wrapping your hand over it, piled on top of his own. you suck your lips inwardly, face curled up same as his as the two of you beat his dick, the squelching from both your hands and his fingers in your pussy making you equally dizzy. he hisses while keeping his eyes on your face, just looking at you enough to bring him over the edge.
"more?” you ask, the trail of spit already falling from your mouth before he can respond, eren momentarily removing his hand, dick jumping from the reaction as you fist his dick before he does. his overlapping yours this time. 
eren’s response is a strangled cry as he feels the pressure building to a crescendo. your skilled hand working in tandem with his own is too much for him to resist. "yes, fuck yeah," he grits out, his body tensing as he prepares to explode. 
"tell me you love me,” you kiss him softly, your tongue exploring his mouth, tasting him. 
"f-fuckin' love you, mamas," obediently, eren guides your stroking hand over his near-spent cock, growing sensitive from the erotic intensity. each gentle, wet stroke sends aftershocks rippling through his core, leaving him shuddering and panting.
"one more time, baby.”
"love you, nngh, love you.”
"i love you too." 
laying your head on his thigh, he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the squelch of your pussy bouncing off the car windows, continuing their relentless assault. the lewd sounds of your arousal draw him closer to his climax. he can feel your body responding to his touch, your juices coating his digits as he plunges them deeper inside you. with a final, needy thrust of his hips, he unleashes a torrent of cum, coating your joined hands in his hot release.
"that’s it," he whispers huskily, his voice raw with satisfaction. you bring his dick to your face, sticking your tongue out and enclosing your lips around him as you jerk him into your mouth. sucking him off. "ooh, fuck, like that. keep touching me." 
“eren . .  baby, your fingers are s’long,” a shudder forms, squealing and rocking your ass back harder to meet the quickened pace of him fucking you open. he’s pushing you to the brink.
"think you can cream on ‘em?” he teases, his voice husky with desire. he’s using both hands now, the other hitting your ass hard in repetitions, refusing to stop, the action echoing in the small space. "can you? i wanna see you do it. gimme sum to lick up.” 
"f-fuck, y-yess. i can give it to you,” you arch your back. “oh my god.” 
encouraged by your eager response, eren doubles his efforts, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot that makes your muscles clench and a pornographic shout break loose, eren drawing out a ‘yeaaa, baby’, fucking you faster, unoccupied fingers sprawled along your plump ass. his voice fucking with you all over again. 
“mmm. just cum on ‘em. wanna feel it again,” eren’s grip on your hip tightens as he feels your body tense, grinding his palm against your puffy clit.
your sobs are rewarding, your ass burning from his impacts and you give him what he wants like he asked. creaming over his fingers as you cum for the second time, your tummy caving in as you drool on his leg and prolong a whine. body shaking violently with your legs.  
"goddamn. good girl. good girl. you’re so fucking tight," he groans, tasting you off his fingers before going under your stomach to thumb circles on your swollen clit in rhythm with more thrusts. the friction against your clit causes you to scream again, lifting your upper body to distract him by kissing his neck, his ultimate weakness.  
“ooh, you bad girl,” he snarls, his breath coming in ragged gasps. your tongue slicks across his throat before leaving hot kisses, climbing onto his lap by balancing your body on your toes, clutching his shoulders for support as you squat above him. 
eren knows your intention and follows suit, sliding his back down the seat and spreading his legs further apart. reaching behind himself, he leans slightly forward to pull off his hoodie from his backside, his hair getting fuzzy in the process until you smooth it back in place. eren’s hands slide underneath your hot thighs, hooks his arms under your knees, and spread your legs wider apart to accommodate the thickness of his dick as he finally pushes into you.  
“oooh, fuck,” the two of you moan in unison, jaws agape with heavy pants. 
the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the car, a symphony of raw, animalistic passion. and just like that, he surrenders to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. he loses himself in the moment, pace frenzied, focusing solely on how good it feels to be buried deep inside you after so long, trying to milk him for everything he's got. you arch into him, that warm feeling coursing through your heart that you haven’t felt since that night in the closet. that feel of worship. eren spanks you again, a little harder and a broken, high-pitched hiccup erupts from you, followed by a dragged out moan of his name. 
he steadily lifts you up and down onto his dick as you switch your hips to ride him. the view from below is turning him on — tits bouncing with each movement, your face contorted in pleasure. he raises his hips to meet your downward motion with equal force, driving himself to the depth with each bounce. skin slapping mingling with your moans, pushing you down with the fingers sprawled across your backside, pussy swallowing all of him. 
“you’re doing so well, baby," he praises, his voice a soothing murmur. "just breathe through it." as he inches farther, he captures your lips in a tender kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into the embrace.
"bite me, please,” you whimper desperately, knocking your head back to expose your neck. "need it."
eren’s eyes gleam with wicked intent, not hesitating to bite into you, knowing how much you have a kink for it. you shriek when his teeth sink into your soft flesh, the steady pressure of them is a mind fuck. the bite is firm yet gentle enough not to hurt you. the sharp pain quickly being replaced by an intoxicating rush of pleasure, sending jolts of arousal coursing through your veins. his tongue laves at the spot after letting go, soothing it with languid strokes while his other hand roams over your body, tracing patterns across your curves. 
"you are mine," he swats your ass, pounding faster. "you will always be mine. and you will never run from that." 
you shake your head drunkenly, pupils rolling white, lashes fluttering. "won't run, promise rennie!” 
"you belong to me,” he says once more, wanting you to repeat. eren’s words are punctuated by another slap of his hand, and by this point you’re sure you’re bruised, each strike a claim of ownership. your knees buckle beneath you, but he holds you up, his strong arms locked around you like a demon in heat. 
"i belong to you, baby.”
he increases the speed and intensity of his movements, driving you towards the precipice of ecstasy. you're dripping wet and moaning, your slick coating his cock as he pounds into you. wrapping your arms tightly around his neck while he slams you down. eren’s hands roam over your curves, spreading your cheeks apart as he pulls you down onto his dick with fervor. each thrust is deeper, harder, driven by a primal urge to claim you utterly.
“fuck, mng. g’na . . cum,” you blubber, biting your bottom lip as he pounds into you. 
“look at me, i wanna see your face when i make you cum,” he orders, his voice raw with desire. 
giving him your attention, you struggle to fully keep them open, every vigorous yank and thrust coaxing that bubbly feeling in your gut. he can feel your walls tightening around him, signaling your impending orgasm. "that’s it, baby," he coos, nibbling on your earlobe. "give it to me. gimme that shit. lemme feel it.”
he shifts his position slightly, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot within you that makes your toes curl and your walls clench even tighter around him. the new angle allows him to hit even harder, stroking along your inner walls with each upward thrust.
"take. it. all. baby," he growls between pauses, his breath hot against your ear. when you finally topple over the edge, he swallows your cries with a searing kiss, his own body trembling with unspent need. 
"꒰♡꒱ . . fuck," eren pants, his forehead pressed against yours as he loses himself in the rhythm of your joining, stilling his trembling hips and cumming inside of you, having no strength to pull out. he knows you’re on birth control so he didn’t have to worry.
"oh my fuckin' god," the delicious shiver coursing through your body felt like the ultimate high. brushing your fingers through the strands of his brown hair that had long fallen from it's hair tie. he leans into your soothing ministrations, savoring the intimate connection between you as he slowly comes back down to earth.
you sit like this for a while, eren going soft and lifting you off of him to properly sit you on his lap after dressing himself and you. your legs rest over his while he presses his forehead to yours, still trying to regain his energy.
“oh, i forgot,” you opened your eyes after intimate slow breathing, reaching to the front to search for onyankopon's jacket. you dig into the pocket to retrieve the necklace he’d given you. “put it on me?” 
“of course,” taking the necklace from your hand, he brushed your hair from your shoulders and carefully fastened it around your neck. "you look beautiful," he whispered, his voice tinged with genuine affection.
“thank you,” you smile sweetly, playing with the jewelry. “i love it.” 
“i always knew you would.” 
silence overtakes you for a moment, sitting on your thoughts unwarranted. too much happened today, and your brain was swarming with panic trying to figure out what right move to make. you were tired of overthinking. you just wanted to live in the moment. consequences will come later. what's meant to be will be.
“promise you’ll keep your word this time. no more fights, no more misunderstandings, or playing with my heart. i don’t think i can take another heartbreak. i’ll die.”
sincere contrition casts eren’s expression from your words, gnawing at him all over. eren pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. despite the weight of what's happened between you, despite the pain and hurt, there's an unspoken understanding that you're both willing to move past it.
"i swear on my life i’ll never hurt you like that again. i know i’ve got a lot to make up for, but you mean everything to me,” he murmurs, nuzzling your neck gently. "i love you too much. i’m never taking that for granted.” 
tears well up in your eyes as you stare at eren, searching for any sign of deception. but all you see is sincerity, a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. you nod slowly, trying to hold back the flood of tears.
“okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “i forgive you.” 
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© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡
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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago
Text
A Younger Revelation
Hugh jackman x female!reader
Part 2
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Warnings: smut! Minors, DNI!!
Age gap (reader is their (mid) 20s), p in v, creampie (wrap it up), choking, hugh is posessive (?) , daddy issues (i can't help it) and squirting
lmk if i missed some!
Words: 4.5k
A/N: I saw a few ppl say that hugh (and his son) are into older women and i just had to write something about it cuz i want to be his controversial younger gf i hope you like it!
You and Hugh had been friends for over three years, ever since you starred in a movie together. The on-screen chemistry was profound, and off-screen, it quickly turned into a deep, genuine friendship. But as time passed, you began to notice a shift in your feelings. It wasn't just admiration for his talent or his kind-hearted nature, it was something far more intense. You had always been drawn to older men, a fascination born from perhaps, some unresolved issues with your father. It was a part of yourself you had come to understand, but with Hugh, it became an irresistible pull.
The age difference was glaring. Hugh was closer to your parents' age, even older than your dad. The thought of being attracted to him felt wrong, almost taboo, like a secret you shouldn't entertain. Yet, the more you were around him, the more you craved his presence, his voice, the comforting maturity he exuded. The way he moved, the timbre of his laughter, and the warmth in his eyes, it all made you want him even more. It didn't help that you had come across interviews and internet whispers, and even a hint from his ex-wife, all pointing to his preference for older women. It stung, knowing that you probably weren't his type, but it didn't stop the fantasies from consuming you.
One evening, the two of you sat on the terrace of his apartment, sipping wine under the silver glow of the moon. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but the world felt confined to the small space you shared. It was a beautiful, quiet night, and the air was thick with unspoken words. You had always enjoyed these moments with Hugh, comfortable, intimate, and filled with a sense of ease that belied the complexity of your feelings. But tonight, the tension felt different, more visible. The usual comfort was tinged with a sharp undercurrent of desire.
Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. "You know," you began, your voice soft and deliberate, "we have something in common." Hugh glanced at you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "We're both attracted to older people."
He paused, his glass halfway to his lips, caught off guard. You saw the confusion in his eyes as he processed your words. "You're attracted to older women," you continued, watching as his expression shifted. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. The tension in the air thickened, and you felt a heady rush of adrenaline. "And I'm attracted to older men."
Hugh choked on his wine, coughing slightly as he set his glass down. The look of surprise on his face was priceless, but you pressed on, feeling bolder with every word. "Have you ever tried a younger woman?" you asked, your voice dropping to a sultry, almost teasing tone. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Don't you ever crave it? The energy, the freshness... the excitement?"
He looked at you, a mix of shock and intrigue in his eyes. There was a visible shift in the atmosphere, the air charged with a new kind of tension. Hugh's gaze darkened, his eyes roaming over your face, then down your body, as if seeing you in a new light. He swallowed again, visibly trying to maintain his composure. "Sweetheart," he began, his voice low and rough, "I'm too old for you."
You tilted your head, a sly smile playing on your lips. "But you know what it's like to be into that," you said, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. "Maybe you could try something different, something... younger."
Before you could second-guess yourself, Hugh's hands were on you, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, assertive motion. The sudden intimacy made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the firmness of his chest beneath your hands. His grip on your hips was possessive, his fingers digging in just enough to send a thrill through you. The reality of the situation hit you—this was happening.
Hugh looked up at you, his eyes intense and filled with a mix of desire and conflict. "I mean," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, "we can try something, and I'll get back to you on that." His words were laced with a sensual promise, an unspoken agreement that sent a rush of heat through your veins.
You felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of what you were about to do. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. You could feel the slight tremor in his hands, a testament to the struggle between his self-control and the desire simmering beneath the surface.
Leaning in, you whispered against his lips, "Let's see where this goes." The tension was unbearable, the air thick with anticipation. And then, finally, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow and exploratory at first, a tentative test of boundaries. But it quickly deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the sensation of his lips, the taste of wine, and the electric connection that sparked between you.
In that moment, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears, the societal norms—they all melted into the background. All that mattered was the way he made you feel, the way your body responded to his touch, and the intoxicating promise of what was to come.
As you broke the kiss, a delicious tension lingered in the air, thick with the promise of more. Sitting on Hugh's lap, you felt the heat of his body radiate through his clothes and into your skin. His hands, strong and sure, moved from your hips to your ass, squeezing gently. The intimate touch made your breath hitch, and your eyes locked with his, the burning gaze between you sparking an electric connection.
"I'll admit, you're a good kisser," he whispered, his voice low and dripping with that irresistible Australian accent. The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but bite your lip, savouring the compliment. "You're not so bad yourself," you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He chuckled softly, his eyes briefly dropping to your chest, where the rise and fall of your breath betrayed your growing anticipation.
Hugh's hand slowly slid from your ass up to your shoulder, the touch sending a trail of warmth in its wake. With a deliberate slowness, he hooked a finger under the thin strap of your tank top, pulling it down with a teasing grin. The fabric slipped off your shoulder, revealing more of your skin, and you felt the cool night air against your bare breast, sending a jolt of awareness through you. You weren't wearing a bra, and the sudden exposure made you feel both vulnerable and excited.
His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of awe crossing his face as he took in the sight of you. "Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, before he leaned in closer. His other hand joined in, deftly removing your top entirely. As the fabric fell away, leaving you bare from the waist up, you felt a delicious thrill of exposure, the night air cool against your skin. Hugh's gaze was hot and heavy, his admiration evident as he took in the sight of your nakedness. You could see the desire in his eyes, mirrored by the lust in your own.
Feeling his intensity, you felt a flush spread across your cheeks, your breathing growing shallow. There was something incredibly erotic about the way he looked at you, fully clothed in his short-sleeved shirt that highlighted his toned arms and muscular biceps. The contrast made you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and yet, it was thrilling. Before you could say anything, he leaned in, his lips capturing your nipple. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, making you gasp.
Your hands instinctively reached for his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as his mouth worked its magic. He alternated between soft licks and gentle bites, each touch sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding against him as you sought more friction, more connection. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you through the fabric of his pants, and the knowledge of his desire only heightened your own.
As his mouth continued its sweet torment on your sensitive skin, your body responded eagerly. Every flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into him, wanting more, needing more. The feel of his warm, wet mouth on your nipple was intoxicating, and you couldn't help the soft moans that escaped your lips.
Hugh's free hand roamed up and down your back, caressing and holding you close as if grounding himself in the reality of this moment. The feeling of his hands on you, the weight of his body beneath you, and the heat of his mouth all combined to create an intoxicating mix of sensations. You felt powerful and utterly desired, lost in the pleasure of the moment and the knowledge that this man, who had seemed untouchable, was now very much within your grasp.
As you continued to grind against him, the friction and heat built up between you, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Hugh's breathing grew ragged, his grip on you tightening as he responded to your movements. His mouth left your nipple, trailing kisses up to your neck, where he nibbled softly, drawing another gasp from you.
You felt like you were on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire. The air was thick with the scent of wine and the heady musk of arousal, and you knew there was no turning back. The night had taken a turn into the forbidden, and you were more than willing to explore this uncharted territory with him.
As Hugh's lips lavished warm kisses on your breast, each touch sending electric jolts through your body, you felt an irresistible urge to feel more of him, to uncover the mystery beneath his shirt. Your fingers moved with a mind of their own, sliding up his torso and curling into the fabric, giving a gentle tug. It was a subtle yet unmistakable sign for him to undress. He paused, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, a playful grin spreading across his face. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt, peeling it off with an effortless grace that left you breathless.
As the shirt fell away, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and the ripple of muscles beneath his skin, your eyes widened in astonishment. You couldn't help but let out a soft, appreciative gasp. "You have an amazing build for your age," you murmured, your voice tinged with genuine admiration and a hint of awe.
Hugh's smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You know what else is great for my age? My stamina," he replied, his tone dripping with confidence and a hint of mischief. The promise in his words sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, the anticipation making your pulse race. "Let's test that out," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper but full of bold intent.
Without a moment's hesitation, Hugh's hands found your waist. With an effortless strength that took your breath away, he lifted you and set you down on the cold surface of the terrace table. The sudden contrast of the cool marble against your warm skin made you jolt, a soft gasp escaping your lips. It was a shock that only heightened the pleasure coursing through you.
His hands worked at the buttons of your pants, sliding them down your legs and casting them aside. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet undeniably excited. The night air kissed your skin, adding to the thrill of the moment. Hugh's eyes roamed over you with a hunger that made your heart pound. As his fingers trailed down your thighs and found their way to your wetness, a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Aren't you a little embarrassed?" he teased, his voice a low, seductive purr. "To be this wet for a man older than your own father?" His words were provocative, laced with a taboo allure that made your cheeks flush. You knew there was a truth in what he said, but the forbidden nature of it only heightened your desire. Hugh was unlike any man you'd ever known—there was a raw, magnetic allure about him that drew you in, making you forget about the world beyond this terrace.
He was a god in human form, exuding a potent mix of masculinity and confidence. His touch was confident and assured, his fingers exploring you with an intimate knowledge that made your body sing. The cool night air combined with the warmth of his hands created a heady contrast that made you moan softly. Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to circle it with a tantalizing slowness, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you.
He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're so responsive," he murmured, the huskiness of his voice sending a thrill down your spine. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pushed a finger inside you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, your body arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The intensity of your desire was palpable, a living, breathing thing that consumed you.
"Already?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm not even inside you yet." You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, which only made him chuckle. There was a warmth in his laughter, a sound that wrapped around you and heightened the anticipation building between you. "Go ahead then, go inside me," you dared him, but the words came out more like a plea, your voice breathy with need.
Hugh's expression shifted, his eyes darkening with lust. "My god, you're such a slut for me," he said, his voice thick with desire. The crude declaration sent a jolt of excitement through you, making your heart race. "Fuck yes, Hugh, I am," you confessed, the honesty in your voice making your cheeks burn. It was liberating, admitting just how badly you wanted him, and his smirk told you he relished every word.
"Fine, I'll give you what you want," he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. With deliberate slowness, he unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the floor. The sight of him, hard and ready, made you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry with anticipation. You couldn't help but stare, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the primal hunger in your gaze unmistakable.
Then, as if breaking the spell, Hugh looked up, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Oh, I don't have a condom with me," he suddenly said, a hint of concern in his voice. You barely hesitated, the words tumbling out before you could think. "It's okay, I'm on the pill." The moment hung in the air, the intimacy of the situation crystal clear. His eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam shining in them as he absorbed your words.
"If you say so, babygirl," he murmured, his voice low. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your hands gripping the edges of the table for support as your back arched involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made your mind go blank.
Hugh groaned, his head tilting back as he savoured the feeling. "Gosh, you feel so delicious around me," he breathed out, his voice laced with raw desire. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body.
"Better than anything you've had before?" you managed to ask, your voice shaky with the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. It was a question born of curiosity and a bit of pride, wanting to know if he felt the same electric connection that you did. His response was a low, guttural moan, his eyes locking onto yours with a fiery intensity.
"Much better," he rasped, his voice dripping with sincerity. His movements became more urgent, more insistent, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The rhythm he set was intoxicating, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the table beneath you shaking with the force of his movements, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.
Hugh's hand slid up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder of the power he held over you in this moment. The pleasure built to a crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like you might explode. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the delicious friction and the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely.
"Fuck, you're amazing," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he could scarcely believe the intensity of the moment. The praise sent a thrill through you, pushing you even closer to the edge. You could feel him pulse inside you, every inch of him fitting perfectly, as if he was made for you.
As the intensity of the moment reached its peak, Hugh's thrusts grew even more purposeful, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You felt a different kind of pressure building within you, a sensation that was new, raw, and overwhelming. It was as if your body was responding to him in ways it never had before, every nerve electrified by his touch.
Sensing the shift, Hugh slowed his pace slightly, maintaining a deep, steady rhythm that drove you wild. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You're so close. Let go for me. I want to feel you come apart."
The deep timbre of his voice and the promise in his words sent you spiraling. The pressure inside you continued to mount, reaching an almost unbearable level. You gasped, clutching the edge of the table as if it were a lifeline, your body shaking with the effort to hold back. But Hugh was relentless, his thrusts hitting just the right spot, coaxing you closer to the edge.
He placed a firm hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down gently. "Just let go, sweetheart," he urged, his voice soft yet commanding. "I want you to let it all out. Don't hold back." His words were like a key, unlocking something deep within you. The sensation became too much to contain, a dam about to burst.
With a strangled cry, you felt the floodgates open. A powerful wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body convulsing as you squirted, a hot rush of release that left you trembling. The sensation was so intense, so utterly consuming, that you could hardly breathe. Your vision blurred, and your mind blanked out everything but the exquisite feeling coursing through you. Hugh's eyes never left yours, a satisfied, almost possessive smile playing on his lips. "That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice dripping with pride and satisfaction. "Let it all out. You're amazing."
As the intense waves of your orgasm began to subside, Hugh didn't slow down. Instead, he kept the pressure steady, his thrusts deep and precise, as if he was determined to draw every last ounce of pleasure from you. Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, he reached up and wrapped a hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to send another thrill of excitement coursing through your body. The sensation of his strong hand on your neck, combined with the powerful thrusts inside you, was intoxicating.
He leaned in close, his eyes locking onto yours with a dark, possessive intensity. "I'm gonna cum in you sweet girl" he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding a dangerous edge to the moment. "And you can never spill it, okay? Or I won't fuck you ever again." There was an undeniable authority in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race even faster.
The combination of his hand around your throat and the raw dominance in his voice sent you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. You nodded, breathless, barely able to form words. "Okay," you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the pressure on your neck and the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.
"Good girl," he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his lips. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you breathless. You felt him pulse inside you, his release hot and thick, filling you completely. The sensation pushed you over the edge once more, your body arching towards him as you came again, the intensity almost too much to bear.
Hugh groaned, the sound deep and primal, as he found his release. His hand around your throat loosened, his fingers caressing your skin in a tender contrast to the roughness of his thrusts. The mixture of gentle and rough was intoxicating, leaving you utterly spent and completely satisfied.
"No young man has ever made me feel this way," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with awe. The admission felt both liberating and surprising, as if you'd just discovered a new facet of yourself.
Hugh's smile widened, his eyes darkening with a mix of pride and desire. "That's because no young man knows how to treat a woman like you," he murmured, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. "You've got so much passion inside you, and I'm just the man to bring it out."
You looked up at him, a playful smile curling your lips. "So, have I changed your mind? Are you not into older women anymore?" you teased, your voice light and flirtatious. Hugh paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. The question seemed to catch him off guard, but his response was swift and sincere.
"Babygirl," he began, a slow smile spreading across his face, "I can only think about your pussy right now." His blunt honesty made your heart flutter, a delicious thrill coursing through you at his words. It was as if nothing else existed for him in that moment but you, and the intensity of his focus made you feel desired in a way you hadn't experienced before.
Still, amidst the raw passion, there was a tenderness in his gaze that reassured you. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his large hands. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern. It was a simple question, but it spoke volumes about the kind of man he was, capable of both dominance and deep care. You nodded, feeling a warm glow spread through your chest.
He leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet, loving kiss. It was a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic passion from moments before, and it left you breathless in an entirely different way. The kiss was tender, lingering, as if he was savouring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm, a soft smile on his lips.
With gentle hands, Hugh reached down to pull your panties back on, his touch careful and deliberate. He made sure nothing spilled out, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through you. As he adjusted the fabric, he leaned down and pressed a light, teasing kiss over your clit through the thin material. The unexpected gesture made you gasp, your body jolting with a mix of surprise and lingering desire.
Your legs felt weak, trembling slightly from the intensity of everything that had just transpired. Hugh chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Next time, we'll just do it in bed," he said with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. You couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking into a shared moment of light-heartedness. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the playful banter, felt like a perfect culmination of the intense connection you shared.
Together, you went back inside while Hugh was holding you bridal style. The cool air giving way to the warmth of the house. The bathroom was steamy as Hugh turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space. Without missing a beat, he scooped you back up into his strong arms, cradling you against his chest. His strength was evident as he carried you with ease, his touch reassuring and protective. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.
As the warm water cascaded over you both, it felt like a cleansing, a washing away of everything but the present moment. Hugh held you close, his hands roaming your wet skin with a mix of possessiveness and reverence. The water created a curtain around you, isolating you in a cocoon of heat and steam.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he pressed you against the shower wall, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, the water pouring over you both adding to the intensity. It was a hot make out session, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate fervour that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as the kiss deepened, turning into something more primal and urgent.
The way he kissed you, hungry, demanding, yet tender—was intoxicating. You felt enveloped by him, his presence overpowering in the best possible way. Every touch, every kiss, was a promise of more to come, a hint at the depths of his desire for you. The water flowed over you, mingling with your sweat, as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.
As you finally pulled away, gasping for breath, you rested your forehead against his, both of you panting from the intensity of the kiss. Hugh's eyes were dark with desire, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You knew that this was just the beginning, that the connection you shared was far from over. The shower may have been meant to cleanse, but instead, it became another chapter in your shared passion, a testament to the chemistry that crackled between you like an unquenchable fire.
dm me if u want to be in my taglist!!
Taglist:
@melaninjoys @ermlady @haytchee @elloredef
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tsukimefuku · 4 months ago
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3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento
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piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k
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Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.
After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.
This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.
On his birthday, of all days.
"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.
On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.
"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.
"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.
"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.
"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.
His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.
"Why?"
"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.
Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.
"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."
"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."
You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.
"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."
"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"
"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."
"Come on, then."
As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.
When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.
"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."
Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.
You raise your voice.
"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."
"Right."
Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.
It is empty of people, for starters.
The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.
You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.
"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."
"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."
"They have indeed, you little-"
You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.
"Have a look at your gifts first."
He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.
"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"
He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.
"Fine. What's this one? The-"
His voice cuts off abruptly.
"Kento? Are you all right?"
Very slowly, he turns to you.
"You got me the Kama Sutra?"
"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."
You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.
"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"
He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.
"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."
Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.
"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"
"Well... "
"No, I insist."
His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.
You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.
"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."
"There's another?"
Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.
***
Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.
"Happy birthday, my love."
His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.
"That was quite the surprise party."
"Maybe we should have one every year."
He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.
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6esiree · 6 months ago
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Lending Them Your Hello Kitty Pajamas
Imagine lending Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam a pair of your Hello Kitty pajamas for Movie Night? Everyone else is dressed so snugly, but when they come into the room in their usual getups you’re just like, yeah no, that’s not going to work buddy.
Alastor:
It took a lot of convincing to get Alastor to join in on Movie Night, so the fact that he came down in his suit was no surprise to you. He was your partner, though, and he had a soft spot for you. Convincing him to put on some pajamas wouldn’t be a hard task, the only issue being that he didn’t have any. You hooked your arm in his and dragged him to your room, trying not to giggle as you had something specifically in mind for him.
“Darling, do you perhaps have…anything else?” Alastor asked you, eyeing your drawer.
“Nope,” You said, pushing the drawer shut with a tight smile.
Yeah, you were lying. You definitely had another pair that would better suit Alastor’s taste, but he looked so cute in a simple t-shirt and your Hello Kitty pajama pants. Sure, you felt a little guilty for making him wear something outside of his comfort zone, but Movie Night was only so long.
“Very well, then,” Alastor said, unconvinced but ready to go. “Let us join the others, hm?”
He gingerly placed his hand on the small of your back, escorting you out of your room. As you headed downstairs, you felt everybody’s stares settle on the two of you, their eyes widening upon noticing what Alastor was wearing. You could tell he was doing his best to ignore them as Charlie started the movie, your ears filled with the familiar sound of radio static.
But his eyes remained glued to the television screen in front of you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you at his side. Alastor would do anything for you, even if it meant suffering a little teasing from the other residents to make you happy, adoring the sight of your cheek smooshed against his chest. The man wasn’t big on PDA, but he dipped his head and planted a kiss on your forehead, smiling as you sighed in content.
Lucifer:
When you heard Charlie mention that Lucifer was joining in on Movie Night, you were excited. You showered and even made sure to wash your pajamas that same night, hoping to get the man’s attention. When you walked out of your room, you squeaked, surprised to see him waiting on the other side of your door with a sheepish look on his face.
“Shit, I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Lucifer chuckled, his hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes.
“No, that’s alright, just didn’t expect to see you…here, y’know?” You said, quickly adding the next part, “Did you need something?”
You watched as Lucifer chewed his lip, seemingly debating whether he should go ahead with whatever he had come to you for. He shook his head, turning around and lifting a foot to walk away, but then he sighed and turned back to you.
“I was wondering if you had, uh, an extra pair of pajama pants on you?” Lucifer asked as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t have anything…casual, so I was asking around to see if anybody had anything to lend me. So far not good.”
Oh, yeah. You had something casual for him alright. You nodded, disappearing into your room and handing him a pair of pajamas that you had decided not to wear. Lucifer’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when he saw the Hello Kitty pattern on it, but he didn’t complain, smiling at you and telling you ‘Thank you,’ before scampering off to his room.
When Lucifer came downstairs and sat on the spot next to you, which you had purposely saved for him, everybody looked at him in confusion. Charlie offered her dad a smile as she started the movie, but Alastor? He made sure to look him up and down, offering him a snide remark disguised as a compliment.
Lucifer brought his knees to his chest, hugging himself, clearly embarrassed. You started to feel bad, so you swallowed your pride and decided to be a little honest with him. “I think you look cute in them,” You whispered, bumping your shoulder against his. “Really?” He said, his cheeks growing redder than they already were when you nodded. Ignoring everybody’s stares and comments became an easy task for Lucifer after that, too busy stealing glances at you to care.
Husk:
The first time you slept in Husk’s room, you realized he didn’t have any pajamas. He’d basically jump out of his clothes and sleep in his underwear, which was totally fine. It was his room—he could do whatever he pleased. But he had nothing snug to wear when it came to Movie Night, so you decided to lend Husk a pair of pajamas, and oh, he was not happy about your choice.
“I ain’t wearin’ this shit,” Husk grumbled as he stood in front of you, wearing your Hello Kitty pajamas.
“Come on, Husk! You look cute—“ You started, watching his ears fall against his head at the word ‘cute.’
“Cute? Yeah, fuck no, lemme go change.”
But when he noticed how downcast you looked, Husk sighed. You were so kind and patient with him, comforting him at his lowest, so wearing something as silly as your Hello Kitty pajamas was the least he could do. Husk snatched your hand with a ‘Let’s get goin,’ the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as you gasped in delight.
It’s safe to say that Husk regretted his decision when you went downstairs, the way Angel pointed and laughed at him making him growl. He didn’t turn around and change, though, taking a seat on the ground and patting the space between his legs instead. Charlie kindly asked the spider to quiet down, but it wasn’t until Vaggie threatened to shut him up that he finally did so.
As the movie played, you leaned into Husk’s embrace, feeling his chest vibrate against your back. You sighed in content as he nuzzled his face into your neck and wrapped his wings around you, allowing you to hear the old man’s purrs in privacy. But of course the moment had to be ruined, Husk’s eyes flying open when he heard a camera shuttering. Angel was so screwed.
Vox:
When you suggested dedicating a day in the week to watching movies—Movie Night—the Vees shrugged and said, ‘Why not?’ especially as bonding was something all of you needed to work on. As you left your room, you bumped into Vox, your face falling as you noticed that he was in his usual getup. He didn’t have his coat on, sure, but that was still disappointing.
“Do you not, like, own a pair of pajamas?” You asked him.
“Didn’t know there was a dress code,” Vox said, his hands behind his back as he turned to you with his signature grin.
“Yeah, there is, but I guess you didn’t catch that,” You said, grabbing his arm and dragging him into your room. “As per fucking usual.”
Vox huffed, but he didn’t protest, watching you dig through your drawer in curiosity. “A-Ha!” You said, his eyes widening when you held up a pair of Hello Kitty pajamas. “Yeah, no, I am not wearing that,” Vox said, but you threw it at his face. “Come on! Don’t be a baby,” You laughed as it hung over the edge of his screen, shielding half of his scowl.
The two of you went back and forth with the pajamas for a while, but you managed to wear Vox down eventually. That and the fact that Velvette started calling him, her contact popping up on his screen. “Fucking fine!” Vox said, putting them on. Before you knew it, he snatched your hand and teleported you to the Vees shared living space, a smug look on your face as you hopped over the couch, taking up the space between Vox and Velvette.
You laid your head on Vox’s lap, tangling your legs with Velvette’s in the process. She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief when she realized why the two of you had taken so long, Valentino chuckling from his armchair. Halfway into the movie, you felt Vox settle his hand on your head, his claws mindlessly combing through your hair. As ridiculous as he looked in Hello Kitty pajamas, he thought as he tucked your hair behind your ear, he couldn’t be mad at a doll like you.
Adam:
Your relationship with Adam was complicated, to say the least, but he somehow made it work. He snuck out of Heaven for your first monthly Movie Night, your window rudely flying open as he welcomed himself into your room. “Hey, babe,” Adam said, wearing his mask, robe, and all. You sighed—he was supposed to come in pajamas, but of course he didn’t listen.
“Yeah, no, you’re not laying in my bed in all…that,” You said, watching Adam’s face light up. “Come on, take it off.”
“Oh? Well, shit, if you say so!” Adam said, tossing his mask aside and removing his robes, obviously thinking that you were going to do something else.
When he had dressed down to just his underwear, you got up from your bed, rolling your eyes as he looked at you in confusion. “Hey, where the fuck are you going?” Adam asked, answering his question by tossing him a pair of pajamas from across the room. “Put those on,” You told him, sitting down on your bed, chuckling as he sputtered in disbelief.
“Oh, come on! I’m not putting this shit on,” Adam said, holding out the pajamas in front of you and pointing out the Hello Kitty pattern. “Look at this! It has fucking—what is this? Cats? Cats with bows? Yeah, no, I can’t wear this, babe.”
Adam tried to give them back to you, but you folded your arms and shook your head, telling him that Movie Night couldn’t proceed without pajamas. He tossed his head back and groaned, mumbling ‘Fine! Whatever,’ as he put them on, a displeased look on his face as you moved back onto your bed and lifted the blanket for him.
You placed your head on Adam’s bare chest when he laid down, your leg over his lower half. When your eyes flitted up to the man, he looked everything but happy, giggling as he told you to start the movie. You did just that, sighing in content when he draped a wing over you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. It wasn’t often when you two got to do something together, so Adam swallowed his pride for once.
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I Need You
The TWST Cast's reaction, (under the preamble), when you tell them you're going home (assuming close platonic relationships, and reader having expressed uncertainty of wanting to return home at some point prior to this/has underlying doubts that they would be missed if they did leave) May be a little OOC sorry, and there are inconsistencies but it's not bad, still, sorry
Approx. 7.6k words, but separated by character so feel free to just read the character you want lmao (unless it's Malleus, sorry) ----------------------------------------------------- You had expected to happy. Overjoyed, excited, if and when the headmage finally told you he had found a way for you to return home, now that you had 'seen your use' here in Twisted Wonderland. Of course, he was no monster, and in his abundant generousity allowed you to have your time to say good byes and collect your things before he would send you on your way. He seemed to take your pure shock as a positive thing, ushering you out of his office in glee as he had finally fulfilled his promise he made to you when you first arrived.
There was so much you wanted to say, to protest, but the headmage was adamant and quick, and the words swirled in your head. Had you really just been a tool for him? Had he summoned you in the first place merely to take care of issues he had an inclination would arise? Your feet had never felt more leaded, your heart had never felt so heavy, and breathing had never required this much effort. Why did it hurt so bad? You were going home. But it wasn't the place you had come from that was associated with that word anymore, instead it was Ramshackle, complete with three ghosts and a grey, cat-like creature sitting in front of it, waiting for you to return. You couldn't just leave, could you? At least when you'd been brought here, you hadn't been given a choice, it just... happened. You may not have been happy at first, but it wasn't like there was much waiting for you at home either, nothing you really felt was worth giving up the experiences you had here; good and bad as the memories had come, you had friends and....family here that you wouldn't give up for the world. But the headmage seemed to have his mind set on sending you home.
You hugged yourself, doubt forming nasty storms of thoughts you'd rather not have, wondering whether anyone here would miss you if you left, especially now that everyone's problems were well on their way to being solved. You knew you had contributed, but was this a job or were you friends? It was getting hard to tell. You realized you would rather just tell them you were going home...and if they wanted you around, they'd tell you, right?
You sought out your closest...who you thought was your closest friend, looking for comfort and their opinion, unable to meet their eyes as you quietly told them, "I'm going home."
Heartslaybul
Riddle It seemed so out of the blue. You had come over for tea as per usual, though more pensive than normal, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. Your words hit Riddle like a truck, making him audibly gasp softly. He looked down into his tea, struggling to hold back tears as he ran his thumb over the small hump of the handle on his teacup, his reflection rippling from the tremble in his hands. After some silence and practiced, slow breathing, he spoke, though neither of you made eye contact. "If that is what you want....I support you wholeheartedly...though I must admit...you will be...dearly missed." He tried to hide the shakiness in his voice. You had always been so supportive of him, so eager to ensure he had a place and people to turn to when he needed them, if all you needed was support from him in this moment, he would provide it...even if it hurt him.
You looked up from your tea sadly, only to watch as fat tears rolled down Riddle's cheeks. You struggled to hold back your own tears as you reached across the table and offered your hand to him. He looked up at you at first in surprise, then took your hand and wiped the tears from his face with his other hand, rather hastily before laughing softly, though it sounded pained.
"My apologies...I do not wish to influence your decision in-"
You cut him off squeezing his hand gently as tears began streaming down your face, your voice quiet, but desperate.
"Please...just tell me to stay....or...or go."
You swallowed hard and looked away, unsure of what you would do if the redhead told you it was best if you left.
Teary, stormy grey eyes finally looked towards you, first in confusion, then in fondness and relief as he smiled a bit and tried to inject some authority into his voice.
"My word is law. As of this moment, rule 811 and is as follows." You looked up in confusion and anxiety - there were only 810 rules, and Riddle had made it clear that he never wished to amend them in anyway. His smile only grew softer as his thumb ran over your knuckles gently so as to try and comfort you, though a small laugh bubbled out of him.
"I was going to try and make it all official sounding...but the truth is I need you...so please...if it's my input that will make your decision, I implore you....stay with me."
You couldn't help the smile that bloomed, and the relieved laughter that left you as you wiped at your eyes a bit more as both you and Riddle stood up from the table, the boy opening his arms to you for a hug.
"You scared me there for a moment."
"I scared you? You practically informed me that this would be one of our last times together unless I convinced you to stay! I thought a rule may be more convincing than...just my begging but..." he trailed off, snuggling into you a bit more and holding you a little tighter. "It worked. That's all that matters to me."
Trey
You were sitting at the island in the Heartslaybul kitchen, just watching Trey bake. You told him you had something important to tell him, so he had tilted his head and told you he was listening. However, after telling him that you were headed home, he didn't so much as glance back at you; he had just continued measuring out cups of flour, leaving you feeling rather dejected and hurt.
"Did you hear me?"
Trey glanced over his shoulder a bit, continuing to work. "I did."
You were somewhat baffled that he didn't add anything, watching him in mildly offended disbelief.
"You have nothing to say on the matter?"
"I do. But I don't think you want to hear it." He moved to wash his hands in the sink, his side profile now visible to you, and disturbingly absent of any trace of sadness. If anything, he was wearing a small smirk. Did he really not care if you left? You were disgruntled, allowing a moment of silence between the two of you before you spoke up.
"Well I do want to hear it."
At that, Trey turned and looked at you, his smile only getting a little bigger.
"You're not going home. Your heart's not in it. You're just echoing what you've been told because you think you have to go but you don't. The headmage can't force you to go home, so just say no thank you to him and let it be done with."
You sat in baffled silence for a moment before somewhat timidly asking, "Was it that clear I didn't want to go?"
Trey chuckled softly, returning to his work. "It was clear from the moment you walked in here you weren't happy about whatever you were going to try and tell me. Once I get these baked off, I'll come with you to the headmage. You're not going anywhere unless you want to, I promise."
Cater
You had texted him that you had something you wanted to tell him, but never in a million years did he think you meant you were leaving him.
He thought he had been in this position a million times before - you make a friend, you get their contact information, you fool around and then it's time to leave.
Only you were an actual...friend not an acquaintance. Not to mention, you could have moved to Atlantica and he was sure he could have found a way to keep in touch with you at the very least.
But you were going to leave this world. This pocket of space and time.
Cater rapidly blinked back tears and forced a cheery smile and an uncomfortable sounding laugh as he took your hand in his.
"Ok, haha, funny prank, now where are the cameras? Like, this is a bit, right, something you're gonna post on Magicam to start a trend?...it's a prank, right? Do you need a bigger reaction? I can give you a bigger reaction, we can do this take again, just tell me it's a prank." He bit his lip, fighting back tears as he squeezed both of your hands in his, emerald eyes desperately searching your face for any hint that this was meant to be a joke and nothing more. You knew how much you meant to him, you knew about the pattern he'd been forced to fall into, even if this was a bad joke, it was better than it being the truth.
You had to blink back your own tears, turning your face away from him a bit as a small sob left you and you closed the gap between the two of you in a hug, burying your face into him as you started to cry. He held you close and tightly, afraid that letting you go would mean letting you go forever as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check, sniffling.
"Do you really have to g-go?" He choked up over the word, shallow, panicked breathing not helping his emotions.
You sniffled and looked up at him, tears streaming down both of your faces at this point.
"Please don't go...not if it's making you this upset to leave...and you have a choice...please don't leave me" He begged you softly, waiting with bated breath for your decision.
You looked up at him tearfully, trying to smile as you made up your mind.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Those words alone were enough to bring Cater to his knees, his body giving out on him from the sheer amount of relief he felt knowing...he wouldn't be alone again. As long as you were around, he had someone to keep living for. You sat down on his bed, gently patting the mattress beside you as a silent invitation for him to join, but the most he could manage was a mumbled apology for getting your pants wet as he cried into your lap, too exhausted to pick himself up off the floor.
Deuce
It took a moment for him to process what you were saying. He had barely walked through the doors of Ramshackle at your request for him to come over, and now you were telling him you were leaving??
You had been waiting anxiously for his arrival, so before you even got through the niceties of thanking him for coming, you had kind of just blurted it out to him.
The shock was still running through his veins, so he also blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"But I already told my mom that you're coming for Thanksgiving next year!"
You both stared at each other in silence for a moment, before reality sunk in. You started laughing a little bit, but not without tears starting to well up.
"Well then I guess I've got to stick around until Thanksgiving."
Deuce didn't get the joking tone, tearing up, his bottom lip quivering a bit.
"So you're gonna go home after Thanksgiving? Why are you laughing, this isn't funny." He couldn't help but laugh a tiny bit as well, confused and upset at your reaction.
You shook your head and wiped your eyes a bit, smiling a bit "Well I mean...if I'm invited over for every Thanksgiving, I can't exactly go anywhere because skipping out would just be rude, wouldn't it?" In truth...the fact that he had gone so far as to plan at least a year in advance was enough to confirm that at least one person here wanted you to stay.
Deuce picked up on it now, beaming and tackling you in a tight hug, crushing you more than he intended to. You could feel the tears on his cheek still though as he spoke.
"You're invited to every Thanksgiving at my house from now until the end of time, okay?! You have to be there!"
Ace
It felt like the world stopped moving. He was just planning a prank to pull off on one of his upperclassmen, and was about to share his masterplan with you until he'd seen your face and made the mistake of asking what was wrong.
He just sat himself down next to you on the old Ramshackle couch, arms on his knees, his head down and pensive.
"So that's it? You're just going to up and leave?" You could sense there was more he wanted to say, but was biting his tongue for once, for your sake. His eyes were fixed on the uneven flooring beneath his feet, expression stern and unmoving as he tried to rationalize why you would want to leave.
You took in a sharp breath, trying to respond, but nothing came out.
Ace's brow furrowed in frustration, but tried to hide it by turning his face away.
"I thought you said you were happy here. Sure, things haven't been great, but I thought you had made peace with the fact Crowley is a lazy piece of shit that wasn't going to do anything to get you back where you came from. I thought...." His voice caught for a moment, his breath shaky. "....I thought you'd already decided to stay...because this is home now...I thought the friendships you've made here would be enough to keep you here since you never talk about the friends or family you had back....wherever you came from." He had to stand up at this point, pacing in front of you.
"You have people who care about you here, okay?! You gotta give us more than a days notice or so, don't we deserve that in the very least? Like at least give us time to throw you a party or something but more importantly, give us time to adjust to the idea that our friend is going to be out of our lives forever!" He took a few shaky breaths, panting a bit as he pushed his hair out of his face, trying not to let tears form. Not now. Not in front of you.
His words made you recoil slightly as you felt the need to defend yourself.
"I don't want to adjust to a life without you guys either!"
He looked at you dumbfounded and unamused.
"Then why the fuck are you leaving?"
It took you a moment to process, looking down a bit before responding.
".....I didn't know what I wanted until I heard the opposite of what I wanted...and...well I guess it's kinda dumb, but I think I needed to know that I would actually be missed."
Though you didn't see it, Ace's expression softened immediately. He sighed and sat back down next to you, hugging you tightly to him. "Yeah idiot, I, for one, would miss you a ton...I mean who else is gonna talk Riddle outta givin' me the collar?"
You couldn't help but snort a bit at that, making Ace grin. Thank the Sevens, this wouldn't be the last time he'd try to make you laugh.
Savanaclaw
Leona
You barging into his room wasn't exactly unheard of, rather, your footsteps had become a very comforting sound as they approached his bedroom. He had pretended to be asleep as he heard you coming this time, but just wanted to silently enjoy your company for a bit before "waking up".
Your announcement had him upright in the blink of an eye though, tail flicking in discontent behind him. He studied you for a mere moment before yawning and laying back down.
"If that's so, you better get over here. I demand at least one more nap together."
You didn't really know what to make of his reaction, curiosity over whether that was really "it" or not getting to you as you ventured closer to his bed. As soon as you were close enough, he yanked you close to him, making you yelp. He immediately maneuvered the two of you so that he could lay his head on your shoulder, effectively hiding his face from you...and keeping you somewhat pinned.
"Good luck leaving now herbivore...you're gonna miss this too much if you leave...and you'll no longer have a prince taking care of your every need...and-" He sounded almost like a child, pleading in his own way to be good enough for you to want to stay. If he couldn't be good enough at home, he wanted to know he would still have you.
You ran your fingers gently through his hair.
"Yeah you're right...I think I've gotten too used to this lifestyle to ever go back."
You could feel the tension leave his body as he pressed his head against your hand a little harder.
"Good. You're stuck with me forever."
You couldn't help but smile, any doubts you had melting away with those words alone.
Ruggie
You caught him off guard while he was on laundry duty for Leona, his back to you as silence so thick you could cut it filled the space between you two. Ruggie's ears were pressed flat against his head, his tail had stopped wagging, and for a moment, he didn't move, his hand gripping onto the useless piece of cloth in front of him. You opened your mouth to say something, but he turned to face you, looking over you for a moment.
"Y'know, usually in moments like this I quote my grandma..." You looked a bit confused, thrown off by where he was going with this as his tail started to wag the slightest bit.
"But I don't think she's got anything better than the kids at home do for this situation." He grins and covers his ears with his hands, tail wagging faster. "I didn't hear you so it doesn't count!"
Despite his playful demeanor, you could see tears welling in the corners of his eyes.
"Ruggie-" he immediately closed his eyes so he couldn't see your lips moving either, shaking his head as he tried to deny the news you'd given him.
"I...I can't hear you....please...just...if...if I can't hear you....I can pretend you're at Ramshackle...or somewhere else on Sage Island....I can...it'll be...." his rambling tapered off into soft, gaspy sobs, his hands falling away from his head, moving to hug himself instead. "If you leave...I can just pretend l-like you know how to get back....even..even if your world has no magic."
As soon as your arms wrapped around him, he was hugging you instead, burying his face into your neck and sobbing, his voice cracking as he asked softly, "This...this isn't a g-goodbye hug yet, right?"
"It's not a goodbye hug at all." You nuzzled into his hair a bit, causing him to relax in your hold.
"....do I have to prepare for a goodbye hug in my future?" You didn't have to think about it, shaking your head immediately, and causing him to cling onto you as if to convince himself you weren't going anywhere.
Jack
At your request, Jack had made the trip out to Ramshackle, rather happy that you wanted to see him - though he didn't want to admit it. However, his demeanor shifted as he saw you sitting rather dejectedly on the stairs outside of your dorm. He quickened his pace, before rather awkwardly sitting in front of you on the ground instead of beside you.
Upon checking in on you and receiving the news that you were to go home, his tail curled up beside him and his ears flattened, though he looked more pensive than anything.
"....do you want to go home?"
You looked at him, rather exhausted and rubbed your eye a bit. "I don't know anymore Jack and that's half the issue...I mean at the beginning of the year, yeah, that was what I wanted more than anything but now..." He watched your expression sadden a bit. A comfortable silence fell between you two as you stewed in your conflict and he tried to brainstorm a way to get you to stay without coming off as desperate.
"....you know....they say home is where the heart is..." He looked away a little awkwardly, feeling you silently ask for an explanation with your expression. "....so...if you can figure out where your heart lies....maybe it'll make your decision easier...but for me it's always laid with my family and I uh...consider you family too." He couldn't help but blush a bit at the admission, but felt a little guilty saying it out loud. Though you'd never really talked about your family at home, it wasn't fair to assume they weren't important to you, or to make you feel like you had to choose between one family and the other- if you felt the same way about him, or other friends at least.
His guilt faded as soon as he felt your cool hand against his cheek, a smile on your face despite the tears in your eyes. His tail started wagging a mile a minute as your choice became clear, that you saw him the same way.
Octavinelle
Azul
He was grateful you had come to talk to him in his office. It was much easier to keep his composure between the two of you, though you didn't miss the way his expression darkened for a moment immediately after hearing the news.
You watched curiously as Azul fished a document out from his desk, raising it so as to hide his face as he began reading off of it.
"In the event that the Ramshackle prefect, (i.e Yuu), and any Ramshackle resident(s), excluding any ghosts, are to leave campus permanently before the year 20XX, this letter gives the recipient, (i.e Azul Ashengrotto, Owner of Mostro Lounge), permission to alter, upgrade, and otherwise renovate the Ramshackle dorm building in accordance with Sage Island's building and infrastructure laws and regulations in order to establish another restaurant on Night Raven College school grounds. Signed by Dire Crowley, Headmage of Night Raven College."
You stood there in silent disbelief at the sheer audacity he had, though in the silence that followed, you swore you heard a shaky sigh coming from behind the parchment.
"This would be so much easier if you had just decided I wasn't worth forgiving the first time I attempted to take over your dorm." He groaned softly, now hiding his face in folded arms against his desk as the letter from the headmage drifted to the floor.
"Oh so it's my fault for being nice that you can't take over what's been my home since I've gotten here?" Azul shook his head, sitting up, but rubbing his face with his hand, still adamant on not showing you his real emotions on the matter, before sighing and looking down, his voice wavering.
"....it's your fault that I need you as badly as I do....it's your fault that I've come to look forward to your daily visits...it's your fault that I get up in the morning and look in the mirror, and instead of thinking about how vile I am I remember the things you've said to me that make me smile...it's your fault that there's no way I could take over Ramshackle now that the place has sentimental value to me, as ridiculous as it seems to me, the memories we made far outweigh the economic benefits, and it's your fault I think of it that way."
He refused to look up, even as the soft tap of your shoes on the floor approached his desk, taking a seat across from him.
"I can take the blame for all that...but know that you're at fault too...because it's all your fault...that I'm staying here."
Jade
You had found him in the greenhouse, attending his beloved mushrooms when you dropped the boot on him. He debated for a moment, whether it would be worth it to make you eat one, or to put you to sleep, or otherwise incapacitate you for a short amount of time to give himself more time to process and enforce one of many long term plans he had to keep you here. He mulled over the possibilities rather numbly... in a world where had been taught ruthlessness and that only the fittest would survive, you had been that small sliver of mercy he'd come to love and appreciate. He thought he had done a fairly good job showing you what you meant to him as well, with a constant influx of shiny rocks he found on hikes, or petrified wood, or otherwise sharing his interests and listening to yours. He had shown you that he understood what you had taught him to be a little more comfortable with - vulnerability. So why were you trying to tear him apart now? Was this just another cruel lesson in fate?
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he failed to realize how long silence sat in the air after your announcement. He only snapped back to reality as your hands wrapped around him, your face against the back of his lab coat as you shuddered and sobbed.
"Please, Jade, if I go I'm gonna miss you, don't ignore me right now....please just...at least acknowledge I'll be gone."
He pulled your hands away from him gently, initially causing you more distress until he pulled you close to him again, your chest pressed against his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. His hug was gentle, yet felt all-encompassing as he kept his voice low, as if he was afraid anyone else would hear, despite the two of you being the only ones around.
"I would miss you too. So if you must go, promise you'll spend one more day with me before you leave."
A relieved sob left you as you clung to him weakly.
"I can do you one better."
He smiled, rocking you gently side to side, glad that he wouldn't have to risk betraying your trust to keep you there with him.
Floyd
You caught him right after basketball practice, high on life from the endorphin rush he was on. You hated to potentially put a damper on his mood, but you needed him to know. However, he had just laughed off your announcement, trying to walk away from you.
"Floyd please, I need you to listen, I'm being serious."
Floyd stopped in his tracks, just sighing tiredly and rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I know. Doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere."
"But the headmage finally-"
"NO!...Who gives a fuck what the headmage's done, he ain't done shit for you since you arrived, you worked your ass off, lived in a shitty little house, dealt with crazy magic users and barely got paid your worth! But through all that, y'stayed. Things are better now. Just...just stay 'nd enjoy it with the people who care 'bout'chya k? I ain't lettin' you go back until you've at least had a vacation, k? It's your turn to get a happy endin...and you can't lie to me and say that's back in whatever timeline you're from cuz....cuz you told me once that I make ya happy...." His expression had been manic and angry at first, but as his rant came to an end, he looked like he was close to tears.
You couldn't help and smile a tiny bit, moving to hug him, though he met you half way, and the two of you crumpled to the ground as he found ways to wrap around you that you didn't think were humanly possible...but it made you feel safe, secure as you nuzzled into him.
"Just stay ok...I'll talk to the headmage for ya...but don't leave me, ok?...I gotta see ya smile til your cheeks hurt one day."
Scarabia
Kalim
When you had let him know you were coming over, he had asked Jamil to set up a small platter for the two of you to share. At first, he had just whined a bit - why were you going back to Ramshackle so soon? You just got to his dorm, now you wanted to leave? You'd at least take some snacks with you, right?
You sighed a bit, before trying again.
"Kalim...the headmage...has found a way for me to go home home." There was a beat of silence between the two of you, before the boy became a sniveling mess across from you, quickly devolving into full blown bawling as he all but launched himself at you, hugging you around your waist as tears started to soak the fabric of your shirt. He was near incomprehensible, though the message was fairly clear in his sobbing that he wasn't ready to let you go, and he'd do anything to keep you with him.
Jamil
He was busy cooking in the kitchen, enjoying your company, though it was clear you had something on your mind. He didn't pry, but eventually it came out. He just kept working, glad that he had prepared for this day to come.
"Well if you want me to wish you well and see you off, then I suppose now's a good a time as any to say goodbye." He barely glanced over his shoulder, giving you a subtle nod. "Goodbye."
It stung more than you expected it to, but at least he had been decisive, and made it easier for you to walk away from everything. He watched as you got up from your seat and walked towards the door, looking rather sad. He sighed a bit, wiping his hands off on a cloth.
"Did you really think leaving was going to be that easy? You know too much about me. You're not going anywhere. Follow me."
The apparent switch up in attitude had you hopeful and curious as he led you to his room, unlocking the door, then unlocking a small drawer at his desk, pulling out papers, which at a glance, had your name on them.
"I figured since you've shut down any conversation of your personal life at home, the only reason you'd ever want to return would want to return there was because of the financial stability you may have had, and the idea of needing financial assistance was daunting or embarrassing, same with getting your citizenship and passport for Twisted Wonderland. But I've gone ahead and pulled a few strings and made deals with some of Kalim's aunties. Now....you've got a deed to a home once you graduate, you have health insurance, you have a citizenship from Scalding Sands, and a passport from Scalding Sands."
He stacked each wad of paper in your hands as he explained them, before looking rather smug and booping your nose.
"Of course, if you still plan to leave I could just hypnotize you."
Pomefiore
Vil
You had gone to him to his room, sat on his bed and just watched him paint his nails at his vanity. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of you, but he had the time, so he waited until you told him yourself rather than pressing you. He could hear the way your breath trembled, uneven gasps for air that you tried to keep under control as he just shook his head.
"Do I really need to tell you how all this is going to play out?" His icy violet eyes locked onto your startled ones in the mirror, as you tried to wipe any evidence of crying away from your face. You were confused, and conflicted, making Vil's face soften just the smallest bit as he redirected his gaze and attention to his nails.
"You tell me you want to go. As your friend, I'll support you in what would make you happiest, though I'm not going to tell you what would make you happiest, that's for you to decide. You'll go back to Ramshackle, start packing your things, still second guessing yourself. It won't be until you're in front of the mirror and the gravity of the situation hits you that there's no way for you to come back that you'll finally tell Crowley you'd like to stay..."
He finally turns around to look you face to face.
"So skip the song and dance, come to terms with the fact you'd like to stay, and I'll speak to the headmage on your behalf to inform him you'll be staying as long as you damn well please."
He had more conviction in both his expression and tone than you had heard before, and you certainly hadn't heard him cuss in any meaning of the word. It only took a moment longer of searching his expression to see the emotion behind the mask he was wearing was fear.
You couldn't help but sniffle and rub at your eyes a bit, nodding and laughing through your tears a bit.
"You're right. You always are. Thank you."
Visible relief, though subtle, was clear on Vil's face, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.
"Really now, did you think I was just going to let you walk out of my life like that? Absolutely not."
Rook
Rook had seen you leave the headmage's office looking incredibly upset, so moments later he fell into step beside you in silence. Without saying a word, the two of you headed in the direction of the woods, cutting through paths Rook had taught you to see until you reached a small clearing, a place Rook had shown you as his safe haven. The two of you had been laying silently on the grass, only broken by the sound of you beginning to cry as you confessed the reason you were upset.
He moved to hold you close immediately, letting you turn towards him as he gently rubbed your back and let you cry.
"Why are you letting this rest on you so heavily, mon trickster, when it's clear the thought of leaving is causing you so much distress...why would you want to go to the one place where I could not hope to follow you?"
He took your hand gently, placing it on his chest over his heart. "If you left, my heart may explode. You can feel it racing now....the thought of being without you may be too much for even me to handle...and you know I can take much more than I show." He bumped his head against yours lightly, not unlike a cat as he closed his eyes.
"Please...I can only handle so much heartache...stay where I can reach you..."
Epel
He ran into you quite literally, trying to make it back to Pomefiore after spell drive practice in time to avoid Vil's rant on punctuality. However, when he registered you were crying rather than laughing the impact off, he was worried he had hurt you more than he had gotten hurt himself, checking in on you anxiously until you let it spill.
His immediate reaction was like that of a toddler, a very determined expression as he just went "Nuh-uh."
It was enough to shock you out of both the pain you were in and to make you laugh a little incredulously, causing your tears to stop flowing for a moment.
"W...what?"
Epel's expression only deepened, though it was a little difficult to take him seriously.
"I said, nu-uh. You ain't goin' nowhere, not if I got anythin' t'say on the matter, y'hear? Your family's here, your friends are here an' the headmage can't do shit if y'up 'n' tell'm off for tryna send ya home just cuz it makes him feel better he finally kept a goddamn promise, no way, nu-uh, that ain't flyin' with me!" He huffed and grabbed your wrist gently.
"Now come on, you get to to be the one to tell Vil why I'm late."
Ignihyde
Idia
Usually, you would just sit in Idia's room, enjoying each other's company in silence as you did your own things. You had a keycard to his room, and he would get a chime in his headphones that let him know it was you coming in. To him, nothing was amiss as silence hung between the two of you for nearly two hours, though his headphone was slightly offset his ear in case you needed anything.
So when you all but whimpered "I can't do this anymore" his headphones all but flew off his head as he whirled around his chair to face you, confused and off put by your tone until you told him what was wrong.
He just paused, before a wide grin spread across his face, slightly manic.
"What you think I'd just let you leave? Just 'oh Idia, I can go home now so goodbye forever', you seriously think I'm going to let you walk away? You're my closest IRL friend, and I've....I've lost enough already, I'm not letting you make me loose again." He laughed, but it was pained as he pushed back his hair, trying to calm down and failing as he stood up and started pacing.
"You're....you can't be serious, right? You're just gonna leave? Did I do finally do something wrong? Wrong enough that you want to be sent to another timeline where I don't exist, where our friendship doesn't exist, like this was all for nothing?!" He stopped and looked at you, hurt and distressed, his voice shaky and small.
"....was it all for nothing?"
His intensity wasn't anything new, but it had never been directed at you specifically. The ends of his hair were flared up and tinted orange, but his expression was nothing but pleading until you burst into tears again, apologizing and promising you'd stay.
Ortho
He knew exactly why you'd been called into the headmage's office, and was waiting for you as you stepped out of the room, only to take your hand and drag you right back in, first, angry whirring leaving him, before he settled enough to say anything that you and the headmage could understand.
"How dare you! You can't make them feel like they don't have a choice, just because it gives you a sense of doing something right doesn't mean it is! You're gonna let them stay or I'm leaking the security cam footage of what you do in your office all day- then it'll really be confirmed that you're nothing but a useless pile of-"
"Ortho-"
His head whipped around at your warning tone, eyes wide. "What?....I was gonna say crap, not the other word."
You couldn't help the small chuckle that left you before Crowley spoke up.
"Now there's no need for all those threats Ortho-"
Ortho's attention whipped back to the headmage, and in the blink of an eye his face was directly in front of Dire's, uncomfortably close as two sets of slightly glowing yellow eyes focused on each other.
"Don't you even think about trying to send my sibling away again...or the security cam footage is going to be the least of your worries."
Diasomnia (sorry, Malleus and Lilia lovers this is the best I got rn)
Malleus
Nope. You've either read chapter 7, you're reading through chapter 7, or you will read chapter 7. Sorry, he's just as you'd expect him to be. (read as: I think writing this out will feel tedious and boring and I'll loose motivation in these last few characters because bro is the most predictable dude ever)
Lilia
It hadn't been difficult to find him - in fact, when you got to Ramshackle, he had helped himself to some rather questionable looking hot chocolate and was sitting on your couch, patting the space beside him, smiling a bit.
"From what I understand, you've got plenty to think about. They say all good things must come to an end, but if you're writing the story, why not add a few more chapters where you're happiest?"
Silver
You had found him napping under one of the trees on campus, surrounded by furry little friends as per usual. You made yourself at him, laying next to him with your head on his shoulder, just watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as you snuggled your friend for what felt like could be the last time. You weren't sure how much time had passed until a sharp inhale signaled he was waking up, snapping you out of your own dissociation. The familiar weight of you on his arm just made him give you a gentle squeeze as he woke up, softly greeting you, taking a moment to listen to his animal friends, then asking you what was wrong as he pulled you a little closer, turning towards you and placed his hand behind your head protectively.
Upon hearing what was bothering you, he shook his head a bit, and many of the critters that were around the two of you found ways to cuddle the both of you. With how much you were crying, it was only fair that they were concerned.
"Don't go home...clearly you're not happy...if the headmage is trying to force you to return home, tell him that you consider this world your home. Or Ramshackle...or Briar Valley...if you just say the word, I can ask fa- Lilia to start getting you a citizenship...then you'll not only be registered in Briar Valley...but we both know that Malleus would never let any of his citizens suffer either...and disobeying a direct order from fae royalty would put Crowley in a bad position." He hummed and pulled you a little closer. "Besides...without you, I'll only ever wake up to Sebek for the rest of my life...I adore him like a brother, but I admit I prefer your method of rousing me from slumber." It was subtle, but you could tell he tried to inject humour into his tone as he sighed deeply, but stayed tense until you gently played with his hair, tears starting to roll down your cheeks as you nodded and agreed - both to finding your place in this world permanently in Briar Valley...and as Silver's designated waker-upper.
Sebek
He had seen you while he was on his horse, excitedly riding over when he saw you wave, though as he got closer, your expression seemed less and less happy to see him. You wished he had waited until he was in front of you to ask what was wrong, but as you expected, as soon as he noticed something was amiss, his voice boomed across the field between the two of you, his poor horse startling some. It took him a moment to get control of his horse once more, before he managed to make it to you, hopping down and holding onto the reins tightly as he looked at you expectantly for an answer.
"WHAT DID THE HEADMAGE SAY TO YOU?!"
Both you and his poor horse flinched and startled, but Sebek scooped you up, mounting his horse easily with you in front of him, boxed in and secure in his arms as he was set and determined, heading towards the main school building, though when you looked back at his face, the trails of a few tears were clear on his cheeks.
"If the headmage's mind will not be changed, then we must inform Malleus. He will ensure you stay here with m- us. With us."
Extra (pretend you didn't say anything to him yet lol)
Grim
You had been sitting in Ramshackle for a while, the headmage's words eating away at you like acid, leaving you in a dissociative state on the couch. You were so out of it, so caught up in your feelings, that when Grim finally came home after messing around with some of the first years, you immediately felt your heart drop as he very gently, very concerned looking, put his paw on your arm, checking in on his favourite hench human.
"Y'look like you're gonna c- MYAH!" You couldn't help but pull the cat into your arms, your whole body curling around him as you cried softly into the bow on his back. He squirmed around, fighting to face you as he gently held your face in his paws, looking kinda mad. "Who made ya cry, huh?! Tell me and I'll light'em up! Nobody messes with my hench human!"
You couldn't help the half laugh, half sob that left you as you just gently bumped your head against Grim's.
"Nothing you have to worry about Grim...I'm just...um...I'm really glad to have you in my life." You offered him a small smile as he tilted his head, bumping you back softly as his tail swished curiously.
"I..I mean I am too, but that doesn't tell me why you're cryin'!" He rubbed his face against yours again, trying to dry your tears,
"The headmage was gonna try and send me home...but I'm not...I'm not going to do it." Grim looked shocked for a moment, before more aggressively snuggling against you, purring.
"Good...cuz even if you did go home, ya couldn't get rid of me that easily!...I'd come with you!"
You laughed softly, mostly in shock and shook your head. "There's no magic back home...or talking animals...I'm not sure that would be the best idea."
He looked sad for a moment, curling up in your hold more so you wouldn't see his face. "Yeah but...you're all I got...so anywhere you go, I'll go...no matter what.
-------------------------------------------------------- I hated this the longer I wrote it but it wasn't until I was like at Vil that I started to get unhappy so I decided to say fuck it and just stick to it anyways. Yes I've been procrastinating hw shut up. Love you.
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serafilms · 5 months ago
Text
FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS
part 2 of the golden quartet
art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader
summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k
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“What do you think?”
You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”
“What, you wouldn’t help?”
“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.
She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.
“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”
“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”
“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”
The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.
Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.
The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?
But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.
Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.
There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”
His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.
It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.
You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”
Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”
You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”
Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.
But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”
Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.
“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.
“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.
Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”
Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.
When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.
“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.
He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”
“Stare.”
“Sorry, I just—”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”
You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.
“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.
“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”
You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.
There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.
“Sit. Please.”
He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.
“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”
You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’
There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.
“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”
Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”
“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”
He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”
The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.
The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”
Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.
“Can I?” Art whispers.
“Please,” you respond.
His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.
Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.
Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.
Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.
Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.
“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”
Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”
Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”
Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.
“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”
She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”
“So like, if I win?”
“You don’t have to win to play well.”
You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.
In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I was—”
Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.
“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.
“Hi.”
“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”
Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”
“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.
“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”
Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”
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SIX WEEKS LATER.
God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.
“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.
“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”
Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.
“You should take this off.”
“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so­ like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”
“You can wear his jacket instead.”
There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.
“You think he’ll offer?”
Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”
“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”
“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”
You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”
“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”
She’s right about that one.
Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”
“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”
She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.
You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.
Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.
(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.
“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)
So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.
But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.
When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.
Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.
One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.
Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.
The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.
“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.
“Hi,” you speak softly.
There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”
You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Shall we?”
You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”
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“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”
“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.
He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”
“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.
“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you
You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”
“Physics. Or engineering.”
Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.
“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”
“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”
“You’d be right.”
Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”
Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”
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You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.
Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”
He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.
“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.
He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”
Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.
“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.
“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.
Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”
The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”
You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.
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Your computer pings.
Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.
You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’
A minute later, there’s another notification.
Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.
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redr0sewrites · 8 months ago
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Sick!Hazbin Hotel x Reader Hcs
i love reverse comfort sm. im also currently being brutally murdered by allergies but i prefer comforting others so here we are
🥀 Cw: fluff, crack, teensy bit of angst with comfort
🥀 Pairing(s): Lucifer x reader, Alastor x reader, Vox x reader, Adam x reader
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Lucifer:
sick? him? please, the king of hell doesn't get sick!
thats what he claims anyways
lucifer brushes nearly everything off as just plain allergies, he could literally have a 103 fever and be shaking on the floor and would still be pouting and saying he's fine
the thing about him tho is that he's easy to take care of- after a little coaxing lucifer just sighs and nods glumly before pretty much submitting himself to your care
once he's admitted hes sick tho, he wants you around him 24/7
lucifer wants cuddles, hugs, kisses, he just gets so clingy when he's feeling under the weather
THIS MAN LITERALLY BURNS UP WHEN HE'S SICK ITS ALWAYS THE LITTLE ONES WITH THE HIGHEST RAGING FEVERS THAT LAST FOR DAYS like he'll be sweating and shivering and crying he gets hit HARD when he's sick and it happens so suddenly too- like one day he's fine and then the next he looks like he's one small wind away from collapsing
he lowkey feels bad about asking for things when he's sick so he'll say something offhand like "yk im in the mood for soup" and hopes you get the message
ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE TO GET FEVER DREAMS AND START RAMBLING WHEN HES SICK
like he'll wake up from a nap and still be half asleep and he just starts genuinely rambling about literally the most obscure things
lucifer definitely gets nightmares even when he isn't sick, but when hes feeling like shit and is so delirious he can't tell reality from fiction? be prepared for him to wake up crying and shaking, he just gets so so scared :(
lucifer feels bad about you taking care of him and wants to help, but will lowkey end up pushing himself too hard. PLEASE reassure him and tell him it's alright he'll literally melt
once its all over, lucifer will genuinely trust you more after you saw him in such a vulnerable state and is much more likely to come to you instead of hiding how he's feeling in the future
Alastor:
alastor? weak? lmao no
he would literally rather die than admit he's sick like he would literally just keep pushing on
alastor is one of those people that has an iron immune system like he VERY rarely gets sick but when he does its like torture
to even be alastor's partner you'd have to know him for a long time and you'd probably be able to read him pretty well (at least compared to other people), yet even you sometimes miss his sickness in the earlier stages
alastors biggest tell tale sign of being sick? exhaustion. he very rarely sleeps on the regular, but when he's sick that all catches up to him
he also gets more irritable and a little less composed, he'd be more prone to getting angry and would lash out if anyone asked if he was ok
alastors ears would also be turned back slightly, like most animals do when they're being aggressive, but its pretty much only obvious to people who know him closely
alastor never wants to be vulnerable or weak but you notice that his eyelids keep drifting of their own accord, and how irritable he's been, and it clicks to you that he's obviously not feeling well
approach him about it in private, while alastor does trust you he still doesn't want others to knowm
no matter how much you try he will not lay down, take medicine, or do anything (at least at first)
alastor genuinely thinks that he can just push through on his own and lowkey thinks you're worrying too much
however after two weeks of pure suffering and exhaustion, combined with no sleep and your irritation at his lack of will to take care of himself, alastor finally breaks
he'd prob come to your room at like 4 in the morning and just curl up on the edge of the bed, shivering a little but staying quiet
you wake up to him fast asleep, his ears twitching every once and a while as he rests peacefully near you
get a cool towel and lay it on his forehead to break the fever, and he'll just keep sleeping
he probably wouldn't wake up for at least a few hours, months of lost sleep are catching up to him at this point, giving you the opportunity to make him some soup and medicine
alastor will stir a little when you get out of bed but wont wake up, but once he does wake up he wants you to come back
when he's sick he wants you to be nearby, alastor isn't the touchiest person and being sick makes him feel gross, so he wouldn't want to be touched but would want you arround just to know you're there
this is probably the first step in him being more open to vulnerability around you, and while it may have been a bit of an irritating process to get him back to his usual healthy status, it's definitely worth it as he begins to trust you more
Vox:
lowkey a man child (affectionate)
vox is one of those guys who will take care of himself when he's sick, but he'll complain about it every step of the way
i think he's pretty responsible when he's sick, he'll take the day off and relax but won't do much other than that
he likes when you pamper him though, and a part of him lowkey enjoys being sick because he just gets to have your full attention all of the time (as if he doesn't already💀)
vox would be irritated about showing weakness and not being in control, but he wouldn't be irritated at you
if an employee was being too nosy about his wellbeing? yea he's pissed but if you're the one taking care of him, he'll just sigh and let you do what you want
VOX IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHOS LITERALLY ALWAYS COLD AND ITS AMPLIFIED WHEN HES SICK
he becomes like a literal ice cube he's SHIVERING and everything
vox has the cutest sneezes too, he glitches out and denies how cute his sneezes are but they really are adorable
vox takes like 2 baths per day when he's sick he hates feeling unclean, and def wants you to join him in the bath (just to relax, get your mind out of the gutter)
vox would be a little pissed about missing work, i think he's a bit of a workaholic and might try to work in bed or sneak some paperwork behind your back
it doesn't work though because he just ends up passing out anyway
vox is big on sleeping when he's sick he's definitely the type to just sleep it off and thats that
like he CRASHES in bed and just does not get up for hours
he sleeps like the dead too, his screen is blank and he barely moves in his sleep
like lucifer, he has fever dreams but they lean more on the weird side rather than the sad side
its funny but instead of talking more when sick, vox actually talks much less. he starts getting super quiet and a lot more needy for your attention
vox is more than happy to return to work and be back on his feet, but will send you a little thank you gift and pamper you in return for taking care of him
Adam:
manchild x2 (also affectionate)
adam DREADS getting sick like he genuinely hates it so much, he sees it as one of his own flaws and it makes him lowkey disgusted at himself
he whines like a baby over a common cold, its almost sad how the slightest sickness will make him act like he's on his death bed
adam whines and complains whenever you aren't around him, he wants cuddles and kisses and is 10x more clingy when he's sick
he has little to no appetite when he's actually sick but gets a huge appetite right after
like you'll have to force him to eat at least a piece of toast per day while he's actually feverish but once he's in recovery he's literally FAMISHED and will ask for so much food
he barely eats or drinks while hes sick it just feels icky to him
i also think he's the type to not want to move like he just collapses on his bed and barely moves an inch (unless you force him)
adam exaggerates when he's barely sick and then underplays it when he's genuinely really sick its lowkey so confusing
like he could have pneuomonia and be half dead and say he's fine but he could have the most common cold and complain foreverrr
he doesn't think you're genuine when you say you want to help him and take care of him, he thinks its just a joke since nobody has ever really taken care of him before
like sure he's been told what to do and bossed around and treated him like a foolish child, but no one has ever sat with him while he's sick and held his hand yk?
while he can be irritable and annoying while he's sick, he apologizes afterwards
its one of the few times he ever apologizes but he genuinely feels bad about lashing out
adam isn't used to being below someone when it comes to status or health and relaxing and letting someone else take care of him is kind of foreign for him, but you both work it out over time
while he isn't the easiest to take care of, he genuinely appreciates that you want to help him and wants to return the favor someday
I WILL MAKE A PT 2 OF THIS WITH MORE FEM CHARACTERS OR WITH HELLUVA BOSS CHARACTERS BUT I DIDNT WANT TO CROWD UP THIS POST TOO MUCH!!!!! ALSO SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING MISTAKES I WROTE THIS WHILE HALF ASLEEP ♥️ HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS TEEHEE
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voxisdaddy · 6 months ago
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Love Me, Please
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Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Pairings: Alastor/Lucifer/Adam/Husk/Angel/Vox/Valentino/Tom Trench/Saint Peter
Type: Scenarios/Comfort
C/TW: Swearing, blood, reader written with fem parts in mind (bc this bout periods, duh)
In which you miss your boyfriend/cling to your boyfriend and are being emotional about it. Basically—period emotions.
This is more for me bc it’s that time of the month and I desperately want some comfort lol | also Angel’s I left up to either be platonic or romantic
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Alastor
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He was at yet another unremarkable overlord meeting when he felt something pulling on him. Back at the hotel, you laid on your bed wrapped in a cocoon of sorts, eyes tiredly watching your shadow pulling on one of Alastor’s shadows-which he left to keep an eye on you. Alastor’s grin turned to one of amusement—oh how needy you are when it’s that time of the month for you. The meeting finally came to a close and instead of making his way back to the hotel with a lovely stroll, he disappears in his shadows. Not before bidding a friendly farewell with his dear friend, Rosie. He materializes in the center of your room with a shit eating grin as he twirls his microphone around.
“I was hardly apart from you for more than an hour, my dear.”
Lucifer
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lucifer had errands he couldn’t postpone today and so he made you promise to text him when you miss him and he’ll make his way right back in a jiffy! The bedroom door only closed behind him when he got a text from you. An ‘I miss you’ along with a sad face emoticon. He burst the door open, tears welling up in his eyes, as he crawled back into bed with you to hold you close. You honestly thought he was more emotional than you at the moment.
“My poor ducky! I’m sowwy!”
Adam
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam has been around for ages so I like to think he knows a bit about menstruation. On top of that, he has an army of baddies he likes spending time with-usually training but that's still time spent with them regardless. However he's definitely still rough around the edges since usually with his girls, he uses that to egg them on into being tougher fighters either physically or emotionally. If you're a person who's quick to be a grump or a crying mess then uhhh...just know he doesn't mean to be a dick all the time. He tries though, despite how annoying and tiresome it is. Especially since you make him feel oh so special with how you seem to demand his attention and his attention only. Right now you lay on his chest, looking on at the items set on the coffee table with a glint of amusement.
"Babe-you said pads with wings! I got that! I even made sure the chicken wings came with the good sauce."
Husk
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Husk is very vigilant so he's quickly able to come to the conclusion that you're on your period before even you realize it. It was just after he finished closing up the bar and returned to your room for a late nights rest when he smelt it. He might technically be an old man, but he's a respectful one and has been around for quite some time. He knows that small. Despite knowing you might be embarrassed to find out that he can smell it, he figured you'd be more grateful that he woke you up so you can deal with it before you wake up feeling all gross and annoyed in the morning. Plus it was worth it to almost immediately get a hug from you after being apart for a few extra hours than he liked.
"Come on. Don't wanna ruin your new pajama's now, do you baby doll?
Angel Dust
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This man was out on a much needed night out with his long time bestie, Cherri Bomb. You of course coming as his plus one that his bestie always welcomed like the supportive girly she is. He couldn't quite enjoy himself as much this time around though as he sat at in a corner booth with you hunched over your drink. You're hand gripping one of his hands as if you're afraid he's gonna leave. Despite how awkward he felt trying to comfort you, he did his best and allowed himself to be as sympathetic as much as he could.
"Toot's-if you wanna leave it's okay! You know I'll stick with ya! No need to make ya headache worse than it already is!"
Vox
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox still holds certain belief's and mindsets he had from his time in the 1950's. Part of that meaning him being 'grossed out' by your period and beliefs in woman faking or over exaggerating their monthly disturbances. He learned to keep his opinions to himself though, due to previous encounters with Velvette, and found it easier to just well, cater to your needs. They were easy enough for the most part. Food and beverage cravings? He's got ya covered. Cramps and aches? You're in luck because this man is basically one large heating pad. Which quickly became a downside for him because then you wanted him all the time. Didn't matter if he was working or not. He tried to put his foot down once but it only made you emotional so uhhh-
"Honey, I'll only be gone for one hour. As soon as the meeting ends, I'll lay my head on your stomach, okay?"
Valentino
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino can only smirk to himself when he finds out it's now your time of the month. Which isn't hard to figure out since he woke up to you latched onto him like a koala this morning. A puff of red smoke invades your senses as a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, a third hand coming to play with the top of your head. Valentino, spending years working with woman and people who endure this bloody cycle, knows a few...remedy's. He has his favourite solutions, obviously. Only if you're down. The last time he tried being more...persuasive with his advances to you during these times, it didn't go well-to put it lightly.
"Mi cariño~A good fucking helps with this time of the month, you kno-" ... "Or we could share some snacks. Kitty!"
Tom Trench
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ For this man I pray you are not a bitch on your period. Poor guy already has to deal with his co-star Katie Killjoy everyday. Whatever you deal with on your period though, just know your man is there and keeps your needy ass close. Such as right now, as you sit in an oversized fuzzy hoodie on Tom's couch, watching him and Katie host the latest news live. You glance down at your phone with Tom's messages open. You want to text him but you knew it wouldn't reach him anyways-they had to keep their devices on silent while they hosted. As soon as they were finished with their shift of the day however, Tom rushed to his dressing room to find you staring at the door with open arms.
"The interns told me you were waiting for me."
Saint Peter
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This man would never admit it out loud, and if he did he would word it very carefully, but he loves it when its your time of the month. I mean he feels bad for you obviously; dealing with an inconvenience once a month even in your afterlife does not sound like any sort of blessing, but he's clingy and affectionate himself. And you clinging to him just as much? Oh it's like he's died and went to Heaven-again! Currently he lays on the couch with you in his arms, you both engulfing each other in a snuggly cuddle. He periodically checks the time-as much as he loves this he's still got a job to do. He voices this but quickly finds himself soothing you.
"I'm only going to work, sweetheart! P-please don't cry!"
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This was supposed to be reader missing them but some of them became not exactly that and I’m sorry lol
I’ve had this in my drafts for a month, felt about right to finally post it. I’m also ashamed to admit, it took me way too long trynna figure out what to write for Tom’s dialogue. I love him but if I don’t know him as well as I thought 😭
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edensxgarden · 7 months ago
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Lando absolutely adored watching your face contort into pleasure as your slender fingers dipped inside your needy cunt.
He'd sit back cockily watching as you pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping hole, eyes filling up with glassy tears of frustration.
Your fingers were just so small and unfulfilling compared to his big thick ones, let alone his fat dick that never failed to stretch your tight walls so deliciously.
He loved watching you work yourself to desperation, lips jutting out in a pout when you finally gave up and gave in to his cruel desires.
He loved hearing you beg for his attention and praise his dick, telling him in your poor pleading voice that you simply can't satisfy yourself anymore and you need him to fill you up.
One day when you went out with your girlfriends to get your nails done and they convinced you to go out of your comfort zone and try acrylics.
You loved the way the cute almond nails looked on your best friends, long nails adorned in pretty pastels so you decided why not!
When you sent lando the price for the bill, he clocked that it was a bit more expensive than usual but he figured maybe you'd gotten a little design or possibly the place you went to just raised their prices.
But when he saw the long pointed nails on your hands when he got home, his heart dropped in disappointment.
"You didn't tell me you were getting those." He noted with a pouty lip and a far too sour expression on his face.
At first you felt far more upset than you would like to let on with your boyfriend being so adamant in his dislike for your new nails (of which you were very fond of) and he felt horrible for making you feel bad.
He explained that his distaste for your nails stemmed from his adoration for watching you stuff your pretty pussy full of your fingers and now you can't do that anymore without hurting yourself.
His words quickly replaced your disdain with the familliar burning pit that liked to settle in your tummy whenever Lando spoke of lewd things like that.
After spending a few hours thinking about how Lando would punish you for taking away his ability to watch one of his favorite things, he came back to you with his lovely idea and the pit in your tummy only grew.
You lay on his bed, legs trembling like a leaf and eyes rolling back as you circled his drooling tip around your achey clit, precum lubing it up enough to create a pleasureable friction.
His thick fingers stuffed you full but they were unmoving, forcing you to fuck yourself on them until your brain was hazy.
As your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your cunt clenched around his thick fingers, you absentmindedly decided to never not have acrylics again <3
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