#can we please just be normal about him. I go onto ao3 to see these fics that either portray jc or his family as actually evil people

[a-tian]

I’m about to block the jc AND canon jc tags at this point 💀

[astrayas]

Pressure Point

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem reader 

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

WC: 6k

Summary: When you run into Toji Fushiguro for the first time in years, you find him in the most unexpected position: as your new massage therapist.

18+!!!

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“…So she wasn’t able to make it in today. I’m so sorry for the short notice!”

You sling your bag back onto your shoulder and rub your neck, masking your disappointment with a polite smile. 

“Oh…that’s a shame,” you say. You were really looking forward to your appointment today. Your usual masseuse is nothing less than an artist, and you’ve got plenty of knots to work out right now. “Well, when’s the next time she’s free?”

“Since you’re one of her regulars, I think we could work you in tomorrow…” the manager chirps, clicking at her computer. She takes a few minutes, clearly unfamiliar with the software. They’re really understaffed today. “But…oh! Actually, there is someone available to take you right now.”

“Oh?” You perk back up again, which is all it takes to strain your muscles. You wince just a bit. You really need some relief.

“Yes! He’s actually our top massage therapist. His new clients normally have to book him months in advance, but it looks like he had a cancellation today. I can go grab him, if you’re interested!”

You deflate just a little. Him? You’ve never seen a male massage therapist, and you weren’t planning to start today. Then your shoulder whines at you again, as if to protest your hesitation, and you’re rubbing at it before you realize it.

Well, if he’s really that good…

“Um. Sure,” you force out. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!” She springs to her feet and graces you with a polished customer service smile. “Please, have a seat. I’ll go let him know.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, a rush of nerves guiding your short, stilted steps to the nearest chair. You flop into it and try to reason with yourself. If you get uncomfortable, you can just leave. But he’s their top massage therapist. He obviously knows what he’s doing, and you really need—

“Nuh-uh. I don’t do walk-ins.”

A loud, gruff voice booms from the hallway, clearly audible through the thick waiting room door. Whoever’s speaking doesn’t seem to care about indoor voices. You have to strain to hear the manager’s response.

“She’s not a walk-in!” she argues. “She had an appointment, but Rei called out at the last minute.”

“Sounds like that’s Rei’s problem, then.”

After a few seconds of silence, you stand up. This sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. You can wait another day; you’ll just tell them you’ll reschedule. 

“Come on! This client’s been coming to us for years. We can’t lose her!” the manager pleads. 

“You can’t lose her. I’ll be just fine.”

Your lip curls in disgust as you hoist your bag over your aching shoulder. People book this guy months in advance? Whatever. You can just leave and call them later. But as you turn to walk out the door, you hear one last exchange.

“Ugh…how about this? I’ll give you a few extra days off next month.”

You pause mid-step. 

“…I want a week.”

“A week?”

“I’ve been working my fingers to the bone for you for God knows how long. I want a week, or I walk.”

Another long, heavy silence, but you’re still listening.

“…Fine. Fine. I’ll make it happen. Just go out there and be pleasant, alright?”

“I’m never anything but,” the gruff voice hums, and you can just barely hear the manager groan as the door flies open. The strap on your bag slides down your shoulder at the same moment, and you look down as you pull it back up with a grimace.

“You must be the one Rei stranded today. Nice to meet you. I’m—“

He freezes mid-sentence. When you finally look back up, you freeze, too.

“Toji…” you murmur.

You’ve lost count of the years it’s been since you and Toji Fushiguro parted ways. But you could go a century without seeing that face and still recognize it. The scar on his mouth, his fierce green eyes, his strong, chiseled frame…none of it’s really easy to forget.

But it’s his most unforgettable feature—his big, wolfish grin—that traps you in place when it’s clear he recognizes you, too.

“Well, well,” he croons, an irritating melody ringing in his voice as he holds the door open and extends his hand. “Come on back, ma’am. Last door on the left.”

You shuffle past him without so much as a “Thank you” and grip the strap of your bag tight. God, why did it have to be him? Out of all the people who could have walked out of that door, why him?

You step into the room he pointed you to and take it in with wide eyes. This is certainly a step up from your usual setup with Rei. It’s bigger, but the atmosphere is so much more intimate. Soft, ambient music drifts through the room. Candles flicker on select small tables lining the perimeter of the space, playing on the velvety flower petals artfully arranged on the floor and the massage table. It’s downright romantic.

But it’s the table itself, lying in the center of the room, that draws most of your attention. It’s plush and oversized, draped in crisp, clean linens and adorned with a fluffy duvet and a lavish pillow. It almost looks like it was made for sleeping instead.

And it looks…sturdy.

“So. Been a while since you up and vanished,” Toji says with little ceremony, shutting the door behind him. “What have you been—”

“So is this a sex thing? Is that what you do here?” you blurt out. He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open, and crosses his arms.

“Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me in six years?” he rasps.

Six years. It’s been six long years. 

You blink back at him a few more times before you register what you just said, and you slap a hand to your mouth several seconds too late. 

“Uh—shit—” you stutter, your hand rising to slap your forehead. “I didn’t mean—” 

After some lengthy floundering, which he lets you do in perfect silence, your hands finally drop to your sides, and you heave a deep sigh.

“I just—this is a big bed—”

“You mean a massage table.”

“And apparently you’re the most requested guy here—”

“Because I’m a good massage therapist.”

“And you were a criminal the last time we talked!” you finish. Your voice rises a little more than you intended, and that goddamned knot in your shoulder spasms. You rub at it desperately and take a calming breath. 

Something like a low growl rumbles in Toji’s chest as he strolls over to the sink and washes his hands. 

“If I’m remembering correctly—and I am—you weren’t an upstanding citizen back then, either,” he flings back. He dries his hands, turns back around, and leans against the counter, looking you up and down. “At least my crimes were impressive.”

You set your bag on a nearby chair and scoff at him. “Yeah. So impressive I just couldn’t bear to live in your shadow anymore.”

“Cute,” he sneers. “You want the damn massage or not? Because you clearly need it.”

“Oh, like you can really tell—”

“Your right shoulder. That one’s obvious.” He pushes himself away from the counter and closes the distance between you with just a couple steps. “You keep rubbing at it like a maniac. But the way you’re standing right now tells me you have pain in your lower back, too. Right about…” He circles behind you, a shadow of a grin growing on his face before he disappears from your sight. You shiver when he rests a large, strong hand exactly where the small of your back hurts the most. “...Here.”

You spin back around and scowl at him. He holds his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Yeah, those are my biggest problem areas,” you mutter. 

“Then let’s take care of ‘em,” he proposes, sauntering over to the door. “Believe it or not, I am a professional now. I take my clients seriously.”

His eyes glint when he turns the knob.

“Even petty thieves like you.”

Your blood pressure instantly shoots through the sky. 

“Don’t think I won’t—” you start, unsure of what vague threat you’re about to make, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed,” he nearly sings. “Start out face-down.”

And with that, he’s gone. The door shuts with a click, leaving every stupid knot in your back to tense up and scream even louder. You don’t even bother hanging your clothes on any of the hooks nearby, opting to pelt them to the floor instead. Infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s every bit as infuriating as he was all those years ago, when you were just two delinquents among many wreaking havoc in town.

Back when you thought he was the sexiest, funniest, dreamiest guy on earth.

You smack some petals off the table before you settle under the sheets, lying on your stomach. Whatever. It’s not like the feeling was mutual. What did you even see in him back then, anyway? Other than the eyes and the muscles and the voice and the face and the—

Toji knocks on the door.

“You decent?” he calls from the other side. 

“No,” you sniff. “But I’m under the sheet. You can come in.”

He chuckles as he lets himself back in and promptly closes the door. You can only see his feet as he walks past you and stops at the counter, and he shakes a bottle.

“Alright. So, I know your shoulder and your lower back are your biggest problems right now, but I’ll find your other pressure points as we work,” he announces, instantly professional. “But first, I need to ask if you’ve got any areas I should avoid.”

“Nope,” you inform the floor. “It’s all up for grabs.”

He laughs again, and you curse yourself under your breath. What an atrocious choice of words. 

“Good to know,” he hums. Ugh. He sounds too pleased. 

Your heart skips as soon as he pulls the sheet down from your shoulders all the way to just above your backside. He gets straight to work, starting by feeling for tight areas.

“Yeesh. You’ve got trigger points all the way down your back,” he marvels. “It’s almost impressive.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you sigh.

You have to admit it: even now, even as he just searches and assesses, his touch is divine. It must be thanks to those dexterous fingers, those powerful hands, his shocking familiarity with every part of the human body…

You squeeze your eyes shut in a desperate bid to push the thoughts out. Stupid. Stupid. What a stupid crush you had on him. You start talking just to fill your head with something, anything else.

“How’d you even fall into this line of work? It’s not—“ Your breath hitches when you hear him squeeze some oil onto his hands and rub them together. “It’s, um…just not a career path I ever thought you’d take.”

You can hear the grin in his response. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to help people?”

You answer with some snorting laughter, which tells him enough.

“Thought not,” he sighs. “No point in lying, then.” His hands work their way to the rough spot on your shoulder, and you brace yourself. “Honestly? It’s good money. That’s all there is to it.”

“That I believe,” you answer, screwing your eyes shut when he starts working that knot. This is going to be a rough session, you just know it.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he mumbles, genuine shock lining his voice. “What do you do these days?”

“I’m just an office worker,” you grunt. You take a deep breath when he digs in again. 

“An office worker and…what? A cage fighter? A trapeze artist? These are insane knots for an office worker.”

“I’ve got—phew—I’ve got really bad posture,” you mutter. You squirm under his movements. 

“Clearly. You must be hunched over 24/7.”

This time, you don’t answer him. Deep tissue massages can hurt, sure, but this is on a whole new level. You bear with him for about another minute before you wave him away.

“God, Toji, are all your clients masochists?!” you cry, glaring at the floor. You keep lying flat on your stomach, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

“…Some are,” he croons.

Your hands tense at your sides. “So it is—”

“I’m joking, damn,” he huffs. He switches to your other shoulder and, mercifully, handles it with a lot less pressure. “I mean, I’m sure some are. I wouldn’t know. People just come to me when they’ve got injuries and chronic issues. When it comes to that slow, painful deep tissue massage, I’m the best around.”

“Solving pain with pain,” you remark. He slides down to the middle of your back and digs into a spot just to the left of your spine. “That does sound right up your alley.”

“...I see you’ve still got a mouth on you,” he grumbles, and whether consciously or not, he pushes down especially hard. You suck in a breath and screw your eyes shut. “How’d you land a cushy office job with your attitude?”

“I learned when to keep my mouth shut,” you fight to answer, focusing on your breathing. “I was wondering the same thing about you, based on that conversation I heard in the hallway. Do you always talk to your managers like that?”

“Ha!” He pulls his hands away and rubs some more oil between them. “Only the ones who can’t afford to lose me. Business has been booming since I started here. And, damn, you should see the tips I get.”

“Tips?” you squawk, pushing yourself onto your elbows and staring up at him. “What do you mean, you get tips? What do you do to earn tips?”

“Um.”

Toji clears his throat and looks to the side. It’s only when he physically covers his eyes with his hand do you realize you pushed yourself so far up you nearly exposed your chest. 

“Oh. Sorry…” you mumble, flopping back down. Heat erupts on your skin. You’re really excelling at making an ass of yourself today.

“What’s with you?” he grunts. He presses a palm against that sore spot at the small of your back. “We’re allowed to accept tips here. Why are you so sure I’m just doing weird sex stuff?”

Before you can answer, he starts applying pressure to the spot. Lots of it. To your surprise, it actually feels…good. So in lieu of a response, you simply let out a groan that lasts a little too long. And just beneath it, just for a moment, you swear you can hear a pleased sound humming in him, too.

“Don’t tell me…” His thumbs rub the small of your back in slow, deep circles. “...you were hoping for it?”

Your eyes shoot open. But he pushes in again, granting you deeper relief, and you lose the will to snap back at him. Not when he’s finally easing all that tension.

“Are you disappointed I don’t offer any special services?”

“Gimme a break,” you manage to say. But that’s all you say before his hands slide down to your glutes. Over the sheet, of course, like a professional, and he’s stroking them like any professional massage therapist would. But that doesn’t change the fact that, in a less professional sense…his hands are still on your ass.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he boasts. He slides a little lower. He’s…really working those glutes. “I know why I really get so many requests. I know why my tips are so great. I mean, just look at me—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit, wriggling out of his hands and flipping onto your back. You’re careful to keep the sheet over your chest this time. “I heard enough of that for a lifetime back in the day.”

“Hey. I’m not done with your back,” he pouts, frowning at you.

“Can we come back to it later? You’re gonna break it at this rate.”

“Coulda just asked me to be gentler.” He lifts the sheet away from your left leg and takes your foot in his hand. “I can do that.” 

As if to prove his point, he uses a single thumb to gently stroke the inside of your arch. Exactly where it aches after a long day in heels. How did he know that was a sore spot, too?

“I listen to my clients,” he continues, stretching out your foot and sliding up your leg. He starts kneading the lowest part of your thigh, just above the knee. “Another reason why I end the day with so much extra cash.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You have an awesome job and you make lots of money because you’re super hot. Congratulations.”

“Super hot, huh?” he whirs. “I mean, I know, but it’s nice to hear from that mouth you allegedly know how to keep shut.”

“Ugh.” You desperately try to focus your attention on the soothing motions of his fingers. “Can’t believe I used to have such a big crush on you.”

For a moment, for a fleeting, measly fraction of a second, his hands jerk. Then they pick back up as usual, gliding a little farther up your thigh. It takes him a few seconds to answer.

“Did you, now?”

Your brows furrow, but you keep your eyes closed.

“C’mon, Toji, it was so obvious,” you sigh. “There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“I really didn’t,” he says flatly. His fingers dig a little deeper into your skin. “We ran with a big group, remember? I…didn’t get to see you as much as I wanted to.”

You shift a bit under his touch. “As much as you wanted to?”

“...See? You didn’t know I had a thing for you, either.” 

His fingers linger on your thigh, rubbing the same spot over and over. Finally, you open your eyes. You sit up to rest on your elbows and look right at him. And in the dim, flickering candlelight, you take a moment to really study his face for the first time in six years. 

Six years that haven’t done much to age him, really. His jaw is still strong and sharp. The deep scar etched into his lip still hasn’t faded. His hands, which you’ve become very familiar with today, are still powerful, with veins and tendons that ripple just beneath the skin, with fingertips calloused but not rough. And his muscles are still toned and strong, if that tight black t-shirt has anything to say about it. 

“Well. What could have been, right?” you murmur. You glance to the side and let your head fall back onto the table; you can’t bear to hold eye contact any longer. 

After a long, tense moment, he pulls the sheet back over your left leg and moves to your other side.

“...Yeah. What could’ve been.”

He moves up your leg the same way he did the first, every knead and stroke therapeutic, but something feels different about his touch. It’s more…clinical. Truly professional now. Like you’re just any other client.

You fight the sinking feeling in your chest. The fact that he never showed he was interested in you stings a little, but that doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a reason you left the way you did. Toji wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for him. Nobody in that group you ran with was good for each other. You had to leave while you were still just a petty thief. Before you started racking up “impressive” crimes like him.

Toji’s still quiet as he pulls the sheet back over your legs and moves to the head of the table, settling on a rolling chair and scooting forward. You open your eyes again but look at nothing in particular. You don’t know what to look at. You don’t know what to say.

His hands slide under your shoulders, searching for that especially tight spot again. The moment he finds it, he digs in. You clench your teeth and bear it. Working out a knot can hurt. He’s doing his job. Just let him do his job. Just let him—

“Why’d you leave?”

Your eyes fly back open. His hands haven’t stopped working, but they have slowed.

“What?” you squeak.

“Why did you leave?” he repeats. You glance up and find him staring right back down at you, those deep green eyes glimmering even in the dim light. “Why did you just up and leave like that? No note, no nothin’?”

“Because…” You take a deep breath. It’s been a while since you’ve thought about those days. “Because I just couldn’t keep going like that. I couldn’t keep spending every day scoping out targets, planning which stores I’d hit next. I had to get out and make something of myself. I did it, and…look, you did it, too.”

“But why did you leave like that?” he carries on, his voice tinged with something close to desperation. “Why did you just disappear? Do you know how much that killed me? To just lose you like that, overnight, no explanation?”

You fight against a new sensation in your chest. It’s something rising, growing, gnawing. 

“Because if I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to make me stay,” you answer. 

“I couldn’t sleep at night wondering what happened to you.”

“You were the only one who could have made me stay.”

“When I could sleep, you were in my dreams.”

“You never needed me, Toji! You didn’t need me then, and you don’t need me now!”

“Fuck you for thinking that. And fuck you for just leaving.”

“Fuck you for making me think you wouldn’t care!”

He doesn’t respond to you before he flies to his feet, takes a breath, and walks back to the other end of the table.

“Lie back,” he says. “We’re not done with your massage.”

“Huh?”

“Lie back,” he repeats. “I’ve got some more pressure points to work out.”

“Uh…alright?” you mutter, and slowly, you settle back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. Goosebumps rise on your skin when he pulls the sheet back from one leg again, lifting it all the way to the top of your thigh this time. He squeezes some more oil onto his hands and rests his palm on your knee.

“Did you know you’ve got a lot of tension down here, too?” he asks, his voice low. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m tense everywhere.”

“You really are,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “Like…when I was massaging your legs, I kept feeling you tense up when I got around…” His fingers snake their way to your inner thigh. “Here.”

You suck in a breath. “Well, that’s a sensitive area, so…”

And you’re sure you’re tensing up now. But the heated exchange you just shared is still ringing in your ears. That would leave anyone tense, right? 

And it’s normal for your legs to part when they’re tense…right?

Your other leg has only moved a few inches away. But it’s a shift big enough for Toji to notice, and he glances down with a smirk.

“Is it, now?” he purrs. His fingers crawl a little higher up your leg. “Sensitive here, too?”

“Uh-huh…” you murmur, gripping the sheet below you. He’s reaching pretty far up. If he keeps going, it won’t be long before he finds out just how sensitive you’ve been from the moment he started touching you.

But you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

“And how about—” he starts, but he stops himself when his thumb swipes across one part of your inner thigh a little too quickly. Like it slipped on something slick. 

Your eyes shoot over to him. Well, secret’s out now. But still…you were dripping that far down your leg? That’s almost embarrassing.

His expression, though, suggests he doesn’t think so.

“Oh…” he whispers with a heavy voice, a strained voice, a voice that tells you all professionalism just flew out the window. “I think I know where you’re holding a lot of tension.”

Your heart flutters when his fingers dance their way up to the source of all that tension, when his knuckles graze it with all the pressure of a feather. It starts to ache the same way it did for him years ago, when you thought he never had eyes for you.

“Think you can help me with it?” you invite, parting your legs a little wider.

That little smirk grows into the same wolfish grin he first greeted you with. One finger, one long, strong finger, circles your entrance and slides in. You’re melting and moaning in the same moment, relishing the new ferocity lighting up his eyes.

“I think I can,” he breathes, sliding his finger in and out, up and down. “A special service just for you, since you’re just so damn—” Another finger slips in to join the first. “—tight.”

He waits until he’s up to his palm before he curls both fingers upward, searching for that spot, the source of all that pressure inside you. It takes him all of a second to find it. He beckons back and forth, up and down. He spreads his fingers ever so slightly, settling on a pressure that commands all your attention to that area.

You whimper and close your eyes. There’s so much you want to say. You want to find out where he learned to do that. You want to tease him, ask him how much he’s practiced. But this moment would be better spent, you remind yourself, simply enjoying this instead. So you part your legs a little wider and let him demonstrate just how well he’s learned to use his hands.

He leans forward just far enough to let you glue your hands to his shoulders. As he does, his other hand comes down to push just above your pelvis, his palm grazing your clit, and that tension rises higher and higher.

Then he leans in a little more. Every flicker of the candles reveals a new detail you’d missed in his face before. Every night of sleep he lost. Every day he thought of you. Every test he faced to make something more of himself, just like you did. Your hands work their way up to cradle either side.

And that’s it.

His lips are on yours, and his fingers pump faster. You claim each other in a kiss six years overdue, a kiss so desperate and needy and vicious it nearly consumes you. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and explores it freely. His teeth dig into your lower lip, a gesture as rough as his massage, but it brings you nothing but pleasure.

Pleasure that grows and grows and grows with all that tension he’s working out of you, so close to releasing. Your eyes start to flutter; your nails sink into his shoulders; your walls clench tighter and tighter.

“There it is,” he murmurs, encouraging you to keep going. “Let it loose. Let it out. Let me feel you let it out.”

The palm he’d left on your stomach presses down a little harder, condensing all that pressure into a volatile ball. His fingers beckon your pleasure forward quickly, deftly, and you writhe when you feel your tension threaten to release all at once.

And it releases like an explosion, knocking your head back and pushing your back up from the table. You try to buck your hips, but his hold on your pelvis is so strong that you ride out your ecstasy between his hands instead. Your walls convulse around his fingers uncontrollably, which he holds in place until your tumultuous release fades to gentle ripples.

And when those, too, die down, he captures your lips in another greedy kiss.

“How’s that tension?” he asks with a sly grin.

“Hmm…” You hold a finger to your chin and pretend to think. “Better, but I think there’s still some left.”

Your eyes flick down to his pants, which do little to hide what kind of tension he might be feeling now, too.

“If you’re still up for helping me work it out, I mean,” you add, letting the rest of the sheet fall from your chest. He allows himself a brazen, longing glance at it before he stands back up and pulls his fingers out, making you jerk. 

“For such an important new client? Of course,” he hums. And like he just can’t help himself, he’s already slipping a thumb under the waistband of his pants. “If you could just get face-down again, ma’am.”

You giggle and flip back onto your stomach, tossing the rest of the sheet to the floor. Toji lets out a low whistle of appreciation when he finally sees you completely uncovered. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters. And that table proves just as sturdy as you imagined when it barely even jostles as he joins you on it, pushing your legs apart and settling between them on his knees. His hands roam across your body, drawing hard lines between your shoulders, down your back, up and across and around your ass. You turn your face to one side and rest it against the plush table, enjoying every movement of his skilled fingers.

“Goddamn, goddamn,” he repeats, just to really drive the point home. He keeps one hand on your ass while the other pulls itself away. A couple fingers slide up and down your slit, just long enough to make it tingle, and then…he’s lined up with your entrance. A wave of anticipation ripples through you, emerging only as a faint shiver.

“So. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna push down and push in,” he says, palming the small of your back. “Still gotta work out those knots, after all.”

“Wow. Truly dedicated to your craft,” you snicker. 

“Like I said, I’m a professional. Now, breathe in…”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it. Breathe in…”

You look back at him with a raised brow, but you do as he says and take in a deep breath.

“And out…”

You breathe out a lot more quickly than you were planning to when you start feeling pressure everywhere. His thumbs are digging into your back, stroking it in even circles. But he’s pushing into you at the same time, filling you out slowly, completely. The arousal that’s practically pooled inside of you lets him slide in easily, but it still takes a second to adjust to his size. Your face falls back onto the crisp linen sheet beneath you, your eyes closing and your lips parting as you embrace that delectable fullness.

“Good?” he asks behind you once he’s fully buried in you, and one hand slides back down to grab your ass. 

“Very good,” you confirm.

You and Toji groan in tandem when he pulls his hips back, dragging himself slowly along your walls, and pushes back in. The moment you relax around him, he thrusts a little faster. And faster, and faster, and faster, until he has to secure a hold on your hips. 

What a pro, you think to yourself with a smirk. How did he know? How did he know this was just the pressure you needed?

“Just when I was starting to forget about you,” he growls, snapping back against your hips. He doesn’t spare a single inch every time he drives himself back into you. Your jostle forward and bunch what you can of the sheets between your trembling fingers. “I was just starting to forget you, and you had to go and waltz back into my life. That’s just like you.”

Your answer barely comes out as anything more than a few pathetic whimpers. “Then maybe this time—fuck—you shouldn’t—”

His fingers bury themselves in your hips.

“Let me—”

He leans forward until his chest meets your back, his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. His rhythm starts to falter.

“Go.”

Your words must spark some new flame in him. Because he’s pounding into you mercilessly now, driving deep inside you and hitting that perfect spot again and again. You whimper, you mewl, you muffle your groans against the pillow, and your walls start to flutter around his cock.

“You think I’ll let you go now?” he snarls, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through your skin. “No. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got you like I’ve always wanted you.”

He plants ravenous, messy kisses against your neck. His teeth graze your shoulder, threatening to clamp down and make good on his claim.

Shit. You’re getting close again. Your groans rise until he has to hold a hand against your mouth. 

And you know you should keep it down, lest you ruin this good job he’s landed for himself. But you can’t stop a wordless cry from trying to push its way through his palm when that tension shatters inside you again, releasing wave after wave of ecstasy. He shudders and hisses behind you, his hips snapping and jerking and stuttering until he pulls out of you. His release lands on your back a moment later.

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything or move a muscle. You simply soak in the afterglow six years in the making, your ragged breaths overpowering the soft, ambient music. Then Toji finally breaks the silence with a simple remark: 

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree.

You stay on your stomach, eyes closed, as he pushes himself off the massage table and pulls his pants back on. 

“Just a sec,” he mumbles. You simply nod, lying motionless where you are as he wipes his mess off your back. “And…hour’s almost up. I’d like to keep working out your knots all day, believe me, but I do have a client coming in.”

You blink your eyes back open. For a moment, you wonder if you should say what’s on your mind. If this one-time reunion should stay a one-time reunion. But with or against your better judgment, you decide to voice what you really want, instead.

“I’ll just have to come back for another session, then, right?”

You flip back over and sit up to find him already grinning at you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he chuckles as he finishes buckling his belt. He steps up to you and takes your face in his hands, rubbing a soothing thumb across your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips, and he steals one more long, hard, greedy kiss before he takes the dirty towel with him to the door. “...I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”

When he shuts the door, you hop off the table onto shaky legs and fumble to put your clothes back on. You comb your fingers through your hair and adjust your skirt, ready to face the world after a truly satisfying…massage.

The manager’s still sitting at the front desk when you walk back into the waiting room. She looks up from her computer and greets you with a big smile.

“Wow, you look happy!” she pipes up. “I take it Toji took good care of you?”

“Yeah,” you say, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulder. Funny. He didn’t spend that much time on it, but it already feels so much lighter. “I feel great.”

Toji appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a new towel, smirking at you and leaning against the frame.

“I’m so glad to hear that! So, did you want to—”

“Book her for next week,” Toji says so nonchalantly, like he’s just finished up an average session. The manager beams at you, clearly pleased that their center could make it up to you after their blunder today. Toji looks right at you, too, when he shares another note.

“She’s gonna be one of my regulars.”

[madwomansapologist]

Hi. Can you write a smut scene between the female reader and my favorite Disney character, Captain Hook from Disney’s Peter Pan 1953 original film that starts with love at first sight please? I have a serious fangirl crush on him.

hooked by you | captain hook

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Captain Hook | AO3

synopsis: It happened. It finally happened. Hook defeated Peter Pan. He saw the silhouette flying above the clouds, readied the modified harpoon that fired a net, and finally managed to catch him! Little did he knew it wasn't Peter Pan.

warnings: DarlingSister!reader. female!reader. porn with plot. love at first sight. mention of erotic literature. that man is possessive. guns. chats about murder.

note: Thanks for your request, darling! I watched it again to write this, and I've just realized it's been almost eight years since I last saw Peter Pan. It was fun. And you made me realize I don't have normal pure thoughts about Hook. Like if I needed another character to be obsessed with. Hope you like it!

After so much screaming and arguing, George and Mary finally left the house. You waved, wished them a good night, and locked the front door. What a mess. All that fuss because of a character from a bedtime story.

You went upstairs and opened the door to your sibilings' room, but the three of them were already asleep. You knew that Wendy didn't want to leave the children's room, you thought that if you talked to her that fear could be eased, but she was already sighing. Maybe tomorrow.

You entered your room and changed into your pearly nightgown. You saw your parents entering a cabriole from the wide window. When they disappeared, you ran into the backyard and released Nana from the leash.

Tomorrow you'll sort it out with your dad. George can be furious, your mom word it as passionate, but deep down he's the most caring father you could wish for. George is always barking, never biting.

And your night would have ended there if you hadn't looked up. You should have seen a starry night. A full moon. But you saw your brothers. Flying.

That's it. You went crazy. Mad. Lunatic.

"Peter, wait!" Michael cry out. "You forgot one sister!"

"Michael?" You shuddered. Insane. Completely insane. "Michael, is that you?"

"Wait a second!" Michael waved the teddy bear at you and disappeared into the sky. After a infinite second, he appeared with something glowing in his hand and flew towards you. "Think happy thoughts," he instructed you.

Then a glittering dust fell on you. You coughed and tried to clear yourself. Crazy. Completely crazy. When you looked down, you saw the ground. Which would be normal. If it wasn't too far away.

Michael took your hand. "I told you Peter Pan existed!"

"Oh. My God." You shouted. "Oh. My God." You were flying! Flying. No. No, you weren't. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and emptied your mind. When you opened your eyes, you saw the Big Ben. From above. "Oh. My. God."

"Don't be scared." Michael gave you two pats on the back. The same you do when he wakes up from a nightmare. He gave you his teddy bear. You hold onto it like it would protect you from anything. "We are going to Neverland!"

Then Michael flew again. You got to see John and Wendy flying up ahead, along with who could only be Peter Pan. You tried to follow them, but flying was a lot harder than the three of them made it out to be.

It was just a really realistic dream. Just that. A good dream about flying with your siblings.

Hugging the teddy bear, you slowly followed them. You passed chimneys, climbed through clouds, stood over the hands of Big Ben: always a few minutes late in comparison to them. But in the end, even with a lot of fear, you did follow them towards the Second Star to the Right.

Seeing Neverland, you felt butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't madness, it wasn't a dream, it was true. When the four stopped on a cloud, you thought you finally caught up with them.

Then something hit you.

It got tangled up in your body, heavy enough to make you fall. A net pulling you into the sea. You tried to fly, you tried to let go, but the more you moved the more you got tangled up in it.

The net was heavy, pulling you down, but it wasn't a sudden fall. You just couldn't go up. Which didn't mean it was comfortable. Yards and yards of fabric tangled up on you, just weighing you down.

A whirlwind of voices showed you that people were approaching, but you couldn't see anything. You just felt the impact against what must have been the ground. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird to stop flying.

"Finally, Mr. Smee, I will take care of my worthy opponent." You heard a rough, deep voice. People laughed at what he said. "I've waited years for it."

"That's not countin' the holidays, either", Mr. Smee complete. "Aye, there is the knife, Captain."

You tried to let go but only heard a deep chuckle. "Don't be a coward, my old enemy, face your fate." You heard the ripping of ropes. The weight on you began to lift. "Hook defeated you."

The knot holding the hammock came undone, and only then did you realize how much you needed to breathe without pounds of rope over your face. You blinked, the sun blinded you, and the black silhouette in front of you took on color.

And he was beautiful. You've read stories about pirates. Beautiful and funny stories like the ones Wendy shares with her brothers. But also about strong men, who know their ships like the back of their hands, who survive the ravages of the sea and vanquish the mightiest heroes. And you've also read about pirates who knew how to please a woman, dishonest men who kneel in front of their beloved, experienced men doing things girls shouldn't even know exist.

Hook reminded you of the latter type. "Disappointed?", you whispered. After all, it was just a dream.

Hook was frozen in place. Ready to slit Peter's throat and deliver him an honorable death, what was caught in his net was something far different than his little imp.

His heart was pounding so loudly that he almost didn't hear the question asked by the lady in front of him. Disappointed? How could he? You were more beautiful than any mermaid, more graceful than any woman he had ever seen, more delicate than any pearl. Wars would be fought in your honor and that would be the least any man with sense could do.

But his sailors are not known for being sensible.

"Of course we are!" One of them thought he had the right to talk to you. As if it wasn't already a miracle that he could see someone like you. "Where's Peter?"

Then Hook moved. He took the revolver out of his jacket and, without even looking in the direction he was aiming, pulled the trigger. The sailor fell overboard.

"Forgive me", Hook extends his hand to you. "My men don't know how to treat a lady."

You hesitated but accepted the touch. Hook set you on your feet again, more gently than you thought a pirate could display. "Apparently you kidnapped me."

"Aye, this is just a misunderstanding. See, I thought you were Peter Pan. It's not every day you see someone different flying over my ship."

"So... can I leave?" Your feet left the ground. Looks like you were already getting used to this flying thing. "And nothing will happen to me?"

Hook ran his fingers through his hat, a polite smile spreading across his face. "I would never dream of hurting you." Hook gestured toward his office. "May I apologize for the misunderstanding?"

"Apologize?"

"Drinks and conversation." Hook ran his fingers over his face. Good thing Mr. Smee shaved. It would be a horror if the love of his life met him in something other than his best version. "A proper apology."

You wouldn't normally accept such a request. To be alone with an unknown and dangerous man. Drinking with a man! But that was just a dream.

In his room, you floated around looking at the different shelves and finds. A pirate ship! It has so many treasures. "If you had captured Peter, would you have killed him?"

Your question took him by surprise. "That doesn't strike me as a conversation of lady interest."

As you turned, you saw Hook swapping the silver hook for a gold one. You smirked. "I showed interest, didn't I?"

Bossy. Ah, Hook knew you were his soulmate for sure. "I would have. Does that bother you?"

"No." You floated toward him, and sat down on the chair across from the table. Hook poured two glasses of some drink. You took the glass and thanked him, but didn't drink. "After all, this it's nothing but a dream."

"Dream?” Hook chuckled, downing his drink and sitting back in his armchair. “What convinces you of that?”

"I was at home, ready for bed, and suddenly I was flying to Neverland." You shrugged. "Clearly a dream."

Hook understood what was happening. Peter seems to have been confused. You are not a lost child. He never was careful. "I can prove this is not a dream."

"How?"

Hook rose, slowly circling the table. In front of her, he leaned on the wood. "Aren't you going to drink?"

Only then did you remember the glass in your hands. You took a sip, a grimace came over your face. "Strong", you coughed.

"Here's the proof." Hook touched your chin, making you lift your head and look. Only he did it with the golden hook. "Ever felt something like that in a dream?"

You swallowed hard. "No."

"So that means you're alone with the most dangerous pirate on the seven seas, the person who wouldn't have thought twice about slicing someone's throat out, completely helpless." Hook leaned in until he could feel your breath against his face. "Does that bother you?"

"You don't seem interested in ripping my throat out."

He gave you time to walk away. To fly in the direction you wanted. To leave him without saying a single word. Hook gave you time, but you let him kiss you.

He tasted like the rum you ignored. The hook left your chin and slid down to your waist, pulling you toward him. You leaned into his chest, kissing him back. It was so wrong, so unlike anything you would ever do, but it also felt so good.

You pulled away for air, and felt his fingers caressing your cheek. When you opened your eyes, you saw that Hook was smiling. "Do you know how to be silent?" You nodded in agreement. "Excellent."

He lifted you from the chair, and in one swift movement sat you down on the table. Hook was strong. Too strong. He pressed his thumb to your lip, watching you with lust. "You were made for me."

Before you could say anything, Hook knelt. You've read about it in books, but you could never imagine it would be such a satisfying sight. A man so strong, so dangerous, brought to his knees by you.

Hook didn't even bother to remove your nightgown. He just stuck his head between the fabric, desperate to satisfy you. To make you feel the same way he felt about you. To make you scream for him and make everyone understand that you belonged with him.

And so you did. Feeling him delight in your curves, his tongue brushing against your lips, his fingers pressing into your clit. You tried to be silent as he asked, but after a while you stopped worrying about it.

"You..." You didn't even knew what you wanted to say. You just wanted to feel more. To feel completed. To feel more and more of him. "I think I had dreams like that before."

You felt him gasp against your sex. Hook rose, his damp face close to yours, and you felt your face burn. "Haven't I convinced you this isn't a dream yet?"

His fingers explored your lips again, applying just the right pressure. You moaned against his lips, Hook squeezed his eyes shut. "What else do I have to do to convince you?"

You smiled. "I think you know what you need to do."

He bit your lip. "As you wish."

His fingers entered you. Slowly, carefully, but no less willingly. He filled you, long fingers repeatedly penetrating your insides, and you were unable to do anything but hold on to his shoulders and allow him to do whatever he wanted to you.

The sound of your wet pussy was almost embarrassing. "You're mine", Hook whispered against your ear.

"As you wish."

He quickened his movements, fucking you with a devotion no one has ever shown you. So close, so glued to your body, Hook has guided you to orgasm. You shuddered against his fingers, your fingernails scratched his perfectly groomed jacket, your moans were uncontrollable.

"Do you still think I'm part of a dream?” Hook trailed kisses from your throat to your jaw. “Has anything this good ever happened in your dreams?'

You shook your head. It was as close to an answer you were able to give him. It was enough for him. Hook is patient. He can wait.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[leviathans-watching]

Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!” 

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is. 

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles. 

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team. 

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever. 

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all. 

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition. 

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy. 

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole. 

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game. 

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd. 

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night. 

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period. 

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else. 

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down. 

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off. 

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line. 

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be. 

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious. 

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?” 

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.” 

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action. 

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour. 

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season. 

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh. 

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received. 

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away. 

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like. 

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear. 

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly. 

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.” 

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?” 

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.” 

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.” 

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.” 

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?” 

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back. 

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that.  If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time. 

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.” 

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.” 

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.” 

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over. 

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos. 

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side. 

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze,  you lean over to Diavolo. 

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.” 

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!” 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man. 

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.” 

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?” 

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.” 

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.” 

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once. 

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with. 

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.” 

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!” 

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…” 

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished. 

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks. 

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.” 

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly. 

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully. 

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?” 

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.” 

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.” 

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.” 

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.” 

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.” 

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.” 

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs. 

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.” 

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!” 

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.” 

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously. 

“I think it was.” 

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win. 

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.” 

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.” 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?” 

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication. 

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.” 

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.” 

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him. 

“A jersey?” 

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring. 

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.” 

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.” 

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh. 

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?” 

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet. 

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together. 

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day. 

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.” 

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?” 

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options. 

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.” 

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.” 

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story. 

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up. 

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved? 

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous. 

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you. 

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes. 

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you. 

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread. 

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol. 

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it. 

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.” 

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room. 

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit. 

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car. 

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?” 

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.” 

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.” 

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare. 

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.” 

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car. 

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.” 

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.” 

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are. 

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.” 

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.” 

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?” 

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.” 

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.” 

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.” 

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich. 

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.” 

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.” 

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile. 

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward. 

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground. 

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet. 

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have. 

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating. 

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course. 

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills. 

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board. 

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?” 

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh. 

“Way awesomer than the Chols.” 

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?” 

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at. 

“Of course I did.” 

“Was it impressive?” 

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.” 

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice. 

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs. 

“I barely even got to talk to you!” 

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…” 

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off. 

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool. 

 “Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest. 

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.” 

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up. 

“Sweet talker.” 

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.” 

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows. 

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle. 

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?” 

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs. 

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.” 

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins. 

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.” 

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.” 

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.” 

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?” 

“Play hockey.” 

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.” 

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.” 

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close. 

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.” 

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.” 

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.” 

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.” 

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?” 

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.” 

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.” 

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him. 

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table. 

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles. 

“Good. I want to treat you.” 

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.” 

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?” 

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.” 

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.” 

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car. 

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch. 

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.” 

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.” 

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head. 

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.” 

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building. 

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.” 

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face. 

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.” 

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.” 

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win. 

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.” 

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong. 

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?” 

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.” 

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself. 

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward. 

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away. 

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it 

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back. 

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar. 

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it. 

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.” 

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold. 

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows. 

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!” 

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.” 

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.” 

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him. 

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look. 

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.” 

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest. 

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily. 

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on. 

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?” 

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head. 

“Not threatening, just informing.” 

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.” 

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile. 

“Anything.” 

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.” 

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings. 

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.” 

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding. 

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.” 

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up. 

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?” 

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.” 

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup. 

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed. 

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.” 

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs. 

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder. 

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet. 

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.” 

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo. 

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers. 

“What?” 

“Team merch, really?” 

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.” 

You can only shake your head. 

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos. 

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.” 

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way. 

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?” 

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.” 

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.” 

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation. 

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice. 

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now. 

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them. 

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief. 

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her. 

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.” 

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister. 

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?” 

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.” 

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.” 

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.” 

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.” 

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?” 

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.” 

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.” 

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?” 

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?” 

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better. 

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in. 

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!” 

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?” 

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing. 

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.” 

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?” 

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.” 

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.” 

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.” 

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate. 

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod. 

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new. 

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner. 

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.” 

“You’ve been watching?” 

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.” 

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.” 

“Oh, I can imagine.” 

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.” 

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.  

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had. 

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting. 

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena. 

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure. 

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around. 

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols. 

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on. 

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back. 

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city. 

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder. 

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game. 

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild. 

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long. 

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed. 

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him. 

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy. 

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling. 

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.” 

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly. 

“I know.” 

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[musings-of-a-rose]

Pairing: Benny Miller x ofc "Lily Morales" (21 year old daughter of Frankie Morales)

Word Count: 9000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen, I’ve had this in my head for a long time and I just had to get it out. I know the dbf trope may be overdone, and it’s not a trope I normally read, but I just…they kept talking and I had to get it out. Sometimes the fic writes you. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for reading this over and helping me get unstuck. And to @avengers-fixation and @rayslittlekitten for also beta reading and giving me some excellent feedback to help this take a better shape!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

"What do you want to do for your birthday, mija?" 

I shrug, popping another blueberry in my mouth. "I don't know. Wanna order pizza and watch a movie?"

My dad gives me a look, pointing his fork at me. "Is that what you want to do?"

I don't know. What do 21 year olds want to do besides get shit faced on their 21st? 

"I don't know, dad."

"I think you should go out with your friends."

"Are you really telling me I should go get shit faced on my birthday?"

He chuckles. "No, but you're turning 21. You don't wanna hang out with your old man."

"I always want to hang out with you."

"I love you too, but you're young. You should hang out with your friends."

"I'm fine here with you, dad."

"Look," he sighs and sets his spoon down, looking at me. "Be safe, call me if you need me to come get you or something, but go out. Be 21." 

He won't let up, I can see it in his eyes. "If it means so much to you, I'll go out."

—----

God, I'm bored. My friends all squealed when I finally caved in and said we could go out drinking for my birthday. They picked me up and brought me to a bar, claiming a booth on the side. They had me place the order for drinks, my first at 21, and then paid, splitting the bill amongst themselves. But while I nursed a drink, they kept slamming them back, getting increasingly more drunk. Eventually, they all got up and hobbled onto the dance floor. Well, not an official dance floor, more like a space they drunkenly cleared out while putting on songs on the ancient jukebox in the corner. Some other patrons joined in and soon there was a small group of men around them, laughing and swaying along while I stayed seated at our table. 

"You look bored as fuck, Lil."

—----

Benny:

This week had been rough. Hell, this whole month had been rough. Another girl that just wanted to use him for a fun time had come and gone, leaving Benny feeling a little more than hollow. They never stay long, always wanting his fun side. If he let down his mask for just a moment, showing them all of him, they run. It hurts but if he's being honest with himself, none of them felt right. Like they were placeholders, just someone to pass the time with. Or distract him from the girl he really likes, the one he can't have. 

He takes another swig from his beer, the one he'd been nursing for a while when this large group of about 10 college aged girls comes in the bar, squealing and talking loudly. They make a big deal of securing a booth, practically yelling about how it's someone's birthday. And then, he sees her. 

Lily, his Lily being shoved forward from the group of girls, her short, pleated skirt fanning out as they tell her to go order drinks and they'll pay. When did the feelings for her start? His mind goes back to a specific moment, a BBQ at Frankie's, when Lily was nearly 20. She was walking past the pool, fully clothed and slipped in, a little yelp leaving her just before the splash. But before anyone could move, she was pushing to the surface, makeup sliding down her face and she was laughing, her head tilted back as she made her way to the edge and Frankie pulled her out. Her clothes were soaked, hair sticking to her forehead, mascara covering her cheeks along with the purple eye shadow she had been wearing. Most girls would've flipped out, cried and screamed and gotten angry, but not Lily. She made some quip about not seeing the pool there and then she looked at him as he laughed, her eyes lit up not with embarrassment, but something else that Benny couldn't quite place. But now he saw her in a whole new light. Lily. His Lily. 

Wait, not his Lily. She can't ever be his Lily because she is Lily Morales, Fish's daughter. He couldn't do that to his friend. 13 years isnt too bad of a gap but Fish's daughter? She's too smart for him, too creative, too good. She wouldn't want his old PTSD ass anyway. 

He watches her bring the drinks back and pass them out, her friends pounding them back as Lily takes small, infrequent sips from the glass she's holding, her smile dropping lower and lower as her friends get more and more drunk. 

God, she's beautiful. Her dark brown hair frames her face, loose waves cascading past her shoulders, her shirt hugging her tits the right way and Benny shifts in his seat as his mind wanders, eyes roaming over her body. She can't see him anyway, what would it hurt? 

But as the night continues on, he sees her friends get up, forming a makeshift dance floor, some other young college guys coming to join them. But not Lily. She doesn't join her friends, opting to stay back and take another slow sip from her drink, her fingers drawing a mindless pattern in the condensation on her cup. 

He takes a deep breath, drinking the last swig from his beer as he stands. He won't have her looking so sad on her birthday. He must put a smile on her face. Benny strides over to her, pushing through the crowd. 

"You look bored as fuck, Lil."

Her eyes go wide, her cheeks flushing as she looks up at him, a smile appearing on her face. Surely that's not just for him. She can't possibly feel the same way. Can she? No, she's Fish's daughter. Cut it out, Benny. 

But he can't stop himself from sliding into the seat next to her, hoping like hell she doesn't spot his half hard boner from her thigh barely touching his jean clad one. 

When he looks at her, he knows why other women haven't worked out for him. Because she is the one he wants. And the one he simply cannot have. 

—----

My body springs to life as his voice washes over me, my eyes looking up into his bright blue ones, the ones that I see in my dreams. My cheeks warm and it's not from the half a drink I've had. It's from the fact I've been in love with this man for years. 

"Benny!"

He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides and my stomach lurches. He waves his hands, silently telling me to scooch over. I do and he sits next to me, his thigh nearly pressing into mine. He leans in close, speaking into my ear as the girls have turned the music up way too loud. 

"Happy birthday!"

"You remembered?"

He's so close, his face inches from mine, his eyes boring into me. "Of course I remember. You're one of my favorite people." 

God I hope he can't hear my heart pounding through my chest. 

"But why are you sitting here by yourself? Shouldn't you be out there?" He points his thumb over his shoulder towards my group of friends, who have now mingled with a group of college boys, all grinding on each other. 

"Hard pass."

"You mean, grinding up against sweaty young men isn't your thing?" His eyes light up with laughter.

I shake my head. "I like older men." Shit, did I just say that? He looks at me, a curious look in his eyes.

"I doubt they'd be able to keep up with you."

"I think one might."

"Sounds like you have someone in mind."

"Maybe I do." Shut up, Lily!

Before he can reply, a loud whoop sounds from the dancing throng and we both look as one of the drunk men try to impress my friend by doing the worm. Benny leans in to me again, his scent filling up my nose and suddenly I'm feeling warm between my legs. 

"I'm hungry. Wanna get out of here and get a burger or something?"

"God, yes. Please save me."

He smiles, sliding out of the booth and extends his arm to me as I get up. I take it, my skin tingling as it brushes against his, feeling his muscles constrict as he guides me through the crowd and out of the bar. I catch my friends eye as I walk past them and nod my head towards Benny, telling her silently I was going with him. She gives me a wink and thumbs up before making a lude gesture that I'm glad Benny misses. I expect him to drop my arm when we're outside, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks down at me, towering over me. 

"Did you drive or?"

"What? Oh, no. Ironically, I was not the designated driver. Don't worry, we took Ubers."

He chuckles. "Smart. Alright, my jeep is around the back. I've only had one beer, is that ok?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm fine to drive but whatever you're comfortable with."

"I trust you." Am I seeing things or is he blushing? 

He guides me to his jeep, opening the door and helping me inside. He drives us across town to a little diner we've been to before, although it's never been just the two of us. Usually my dad or Benny's brother Will is with us. We sit and order giant burgers and a plate of fries to share, and a couple slices of what Benny calls "birthday pie" that we eat first. 

"So why did you agree to go out with those friends if all they did was ditch you?"

I chuckle. "I blame my dad. He made me."

"Fish wanted you to go out drinking?"

"He said I should "go out and be 21". I told him I just wanted a pizza and a movie with him."

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted pizza? We could've gone to get pizza."

"No, this is perfect, really." My hand covers his on the table and I see just how small it is in comparison to Benny's and I swallow hard. "Thank you, really. You saved me."

Benny asks a zillion more questions as we eat, always interested to hear my opinion on things. I've never had a man be this interested in what I had to say, almost as if… there's no way he could feel the same for me, right? I know there's an age gap, but it's only 13 years..

He links his arm with mine again as we make our way back to his Jeep, helping me in before coming around and climbing in himself. 

"I'll take you home."

"No!" Oh shit, did I yell that? I don't want this night to end so soon. Not when I have an excuse for it to just be us.

His eyebrows are raised. "No?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be loud. I uh.. I mean no. My dad expects me to be home late or crash at a friend's. If I come home now, he'll think it's weird."

"I don't think he'd mind you coming home early. Then he knows you're not out causing trouble."

"Please Benny?" I hesitate a moment before reaching out to place my hand on his arm, squeezing it a little. "Can we… I don't know.. just go back to your place and hang for a bit?" His skin is warm under my palm and I feel him shift slightly in his seat, eyes fixed on the road before he glances sideways at me.

“You’d really want to hang out with an old man like me?"

“You’re not old.” I sit back, reluctantly pulling my hand from his arm. “Besides, didn’t we establish that I like older men?” What the fuck is wrong with you, Lily?

He shifts in his seat again and clears his throat, fighting back a smile. “Have anything in mind?”

“We could watch a movie?”

“Alright, you talked me into it. But only because it’s your birthday.” He smiles before reaching over and poking me in the side. I flinch back, a giggle erupting from the back of my throat. “Oh, you’re ticklish?”

“I don’t like the look on your face, Benjamin.”

He’s smiling wide. “No look. Just tucking that information away for later.”

We pull up to his place and get out. I follow him up to his front door, my eyes taking in his broad shoulders, beefy arms, and tight ass. He's so tall, much taller than me. I'd love to climb him like a tree…

Heading inside, I kick my shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging my purse on one of the coat rack hooks. I follow him into the living area. He gestures to the couch and I sit, Benny sitting at the opposite end from me. 

"Want something to drink?" He asks and it may be my imagination, but he sounds nervous.

"S-sure." Way to sound smooth, Lily. 

"Beer ok? I think I have water somewhere."

"Beer will be fine. Thanks."

"You got it. Can't believe I can officially give you this now." He disappears into his kitchen and remerges with 2 bottles of beer, popping open the top and handing it to me. He holds up his bottle to mine and we clink them together. 

"Here's to a birthday!" He says and smiles, taking a swig when I do. 

"It's certainly been one of those."

We flip through the channels, stopping on some trash reality TV to make fun of them, cracking up at the stupidity of the show. We've had a couple of beers by now and I'm not drunk by any means, but definitely warm and I feel myself loosening up as I become more comfortable around him, passing quips back and forth.

"I don't know why she's picking Jason when clearly Porter is the better choice."

"What?" I say, shocked. "You can't mean that. Have you looked at Porter?"

Benny squints at the tv. "Yes?"

"Need your glasses, old man?" 

"Be careful. You don't wanna poke the old man."

I scoff playfully, smirking. "Maybe I do."

In one swift move, Benny sits up, putting his bottle on the coffee table before he turns to me, his eyes full of mischief. He lunges for me but I jumped up, somehow missing his grip and I smirk, turning towards him. 

"You'll have to be faster than that, old man." He tries to get up and I run, trying to move around the back of the couch, but somehow he's there, leaning over the back, his strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back over the couch as I scream. He pushes me back down onto the couch, his large form hovering over me as his fingers dig into my sides. I squirm under him, unable to do anything but squeal with laughter as I writhe about. But the mood changes suddenly, his fingers slowing as he looks down at me, his blue eyes dragging down my face to my lips. I can feel him pressing into me between my legs and heat rushes there to meet him. He leans closer, our lips almost touching, but then he's pulling back and I can't take it. We were so close, I can't go back to how it was, not knowing that he wants this as much as I do but is stopping himself, denying him and me a chance at happiness. 

My fingers grasp at his shirt, tugging to get him to look at me. When he does, his eyes are wide, a combination of lust and conflict behind them. My finger traces his cheek and I decide to go for it, leaning up while lightly pulling him towards me with the tip of my finger. His lips are nearly on mine, his breath fanning out over my face, but he stops. 

"We can't, Lil."

I nod. "We can." I feel him grow harder against me and it's all I can do to not moan, the weight of him grounding me to this moment. He still doesn't move. 

"I don't want to take advantage."

"You're not. I'm sober."

His lips are so close to mine, his breath filling my own as my lips remain slightly parted waiting for him. 

"He'd kill me."

"I'll protect you."

"Lil," he whispers, his breath heating my lips.

"Ben." I touch my lips to his and oh, his are so soft and warm, tasting slightly like the beer he'd had earlier. He doesn't move for a second and maybe I've pushed him too far. His lips move above mine, responding to my gentle touch with a more heated one, a slight moan at the back of his throat as he glides his tongue into my slightly parted lips. A small groan comes from my chest in return and I hum into his kiss, deepening it as Benny presses on with more urgency, my legs wrapping around him, squeezing him slightly. 

His hands are on my face, pushing my hair out of it as a large hand engulfs the side of my face and neck, holding my chin in place as he kisses me deeper, pressing into me harder, his hips slightly grinding of their own accord. Then he breaks the kiss, leaning up to reach over his shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, tossing it on the coffee table. I've seen him shirtless before of course, but this is different. A patch of hair is nestled between his pecks, soft but strong muscles flexing as he holds himself up, a small trail of hair disappearing beneath his pants. Fuck do I want to see where that goes. I scramble to grip the bottom of my shirt, lifting slightly as I twist my body to take it off, Benny's hand coming to help. My shirt joins his, Benny's fingers sliding around my back to take off my bra, tossing that on the table too. His eyes dip to my chest and they look hungry. 

"Fuck, look at you, Lil." 

Before I can reply, he leans back down, pressing his chest to mine as he kisses me again, his warm skin so soft against mine. He feels so good, comforting, grounding, I can hardly believe I'm here. He kisses a path down my neck, pausing to suck one of my nipples in his mouth. I whimper, my back arching off the couch towards him, my fingers automatically coming up to tangle in his golden hair. 

"How do you want it?"

"Wh-what?" Is all I can manage as he starts to lick at my same nipple. 

"Do you have any favorite positions? Any you hate?"

"I don't know."

He chucks into my skin. "Should I give you a moment to think?"

I shake my head. "I really don't know. I've never done this before."

Benny drops my boob with a plop, pushing himself up so fast it makes my head spin. "What do you mean you haven't done this before?"

I know I'm blushing under his gaze. "I mean… I haven't.. I just… I've never…" I gesture between us.

"Be clear."

"I'm a virgin, ok?" I'm not that embarrassed, but everyone I know has had sex long before me. I just never felt the desire to. Probably because none of them was the man above me, who is now trying to untangle my legs from behind him. 

"I didn't know you were… didn't you have boyfriends?"

"Yeah but I've never done anything past boobs."

"Shit, Lil. I can't do this to you. I-"

"Do this to me?"

"Yeah, take your…" He gestures between my legs, still trying to wiggle his way out from between them. 

"I want you, though, Benny."

"I can't. Not when you haven't…you should do it with someone your age. You should've done it with a boyfriend-"

I let out a frustrated huff. "But none of them were you, Ben!"

He stops moving, his eyes studying my face. "What?"

Too late to not say anything now. "I.. ok, I've liked you for a really long time. Like, really liked you. I tried dating people my age but they all suck. None of them were you. I guess I've been waiting, hoping you'd feel the same. But I won't force-"

"You waited for me?"

I nod, suddenly unable to look at him, my cheeks on fire. "I hoped one day I'd have the courage to tell you how I felt. Or something. I knew it was a long shot. I mean, look at me. I'm… me."

His eyes soften, looking down my body and back up to my eyes. "You say that like it's a bad thing. You're fucking gorgeous, Lil. And..I'd be lying if I said I never thought about us. But me? Why would you want anything to do with me?"

I muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. "Because you make me feel seen. Like I matter. That I'm not just some piece of ass."

"I've been through some major shit, Lil."

I reach up, my hand caressing his cheek, fingers scratching at the stubble. "I want that too. I want all of you, Benny. I want you."

His lips press to mine again, urgent, desperate, his large hand pressed on the side of my neck, the other bracing him. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, pulling back enough to make sure I'm looking at him. 

"Are you sure, Lil? This isn't a small thing, even if you weren't a virgin."

"I am so unbelievably sure, Benny. Please just, show me. Make me feel good."

He smiles at me, his eyes darkening with a glint. “I’m about to ruin you for other men, sweetheart. But not here."

My brows furrow together. "What?"

He taps my thigh to get me to unlock my legs. I do and he stands, stretching briefly before he extends a hand to me, helping me up off the couch. He tips my head up, hooking my chin with his finger, pressing his lips to mine, his other hand coming up to lightly pinch my nipple. I gasp at the sensation, arching slightly into his palm. Then he stands straight, holding his hand out to me, giving me one last chance to stop things. I lace my fingers with his, my hand feeling small in his large one and he smiles, walking me down the hallway to his bedroom.

Once inside, he pushes some things out of the way, and sits on the edge of the bed. He beckons me over and I stand between his outstretched legs. He pulls one of my boobs in his mouth and I moan, heat and wet pooling between my thighs as he kisses his way down to my skirt line. He pauses, eyes turned up to mine, as his hand gently glides up my inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it. Once he reaches my panties, he stops, barely brushing a finger over my clothed clit and I jolt, pleasure momentarily shooting out from where he touched me. 

"You're so fucking wet," he says with awe.

"Is..is that a good thing?"

He touches me again, grinning when I gasp out loud. "Such a good thing."

He pulls his hand from under my skirt, hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down slowly, kissing the skin that appears as my skirt and panties slide down my legs. I kick them off, foot shoving them somewhere behind me as I stand there, completely bare in front of him. I'm nervous, hands automatically coming up to cover me, but he grips my wrists, holding them apart as his eyes slowly move over my body. 

"So fucking beautiful, Lil."

He switches places with me and tells me to lay back, scooting up the bed. He kicks off his pants but leaves his boxers on, which do nothing to hide the tent in his pants. My eyes grow wide. Are all men that large? He crawls over my body, slotting himself between my legs, kissing me deeply for several minutes. My legs wrap around him, feeling him hot and heavy against me. But then he's kissing a path down my body, scooting lower and lower until he's level with my pussy, pushing my legs apart further and putting his broad shoulders between them to hold them apart. 

"Fuck, you have a pretty little pussy. Can't believe no one has touched you here."

I don't respond, my head swimming with a whirl of emotions, mostly nerves and how bad I want him to touch me, push himself inside of me. I want-

"Oh!" A cry erupts from me, my thighs clamping around the side of Benny's head as his tongue makes contact with me, licking a line up me before he taps at my clit. "Oh, God, Benny!" My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on him and holding him in place as he laps at me, gliding his nose up my seam before I feel him press a finger to my entrance, rubbing small circles there. I can hear how wet I am, my other hand flying out to grip the sheets as he pushes his finger in slowly. 

"Fuck you are so tight, Lil."

He slowly moves his finger in and out of me, my body warming quickly before he adds a second finger, this time tapping around inside of me. He hits some spot and I yell, thighs banging against his head again.

"There it is," he smirks, his fingers rubbing and tapping at that spot as his mouth returns to my pussy, licking and sucking. I feel tingles, all over my body, racing towards where he's touching me and then I explode, my head pushing into the bed, thighs tensing as I pulse around him, whining and moaning as I come. Benny guides me through it, making sure I feel every ounce of pleasure I possibly can.

And then he does it two more times. 

My entire body is warm and loose, my brain swimming with the pleasure of it all as Benny removes his mouth from me, wiping his face on the back of his hand, grinning ear to ear as he hovers over me, tasting of me as he presses his lips to mine. 

"You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

"Mmhmm."

Benny chuckles. "Do you want me to stop?"

My eyes fly open as I find his. "No. Please I need you inside of me."

He nods. "I think you're ready for me. But stop me if it hurts or you want me to stop, ok?"

"Ok."

He scoots back off the bed, standing and pulling his boxers off. He springs up and holy shit is that supposed to go in me? He settles between my legs, pushing my thighs apart, sliding himself through my soaked folds and I whimper at his touch. He's heavy at my entrance, his eyes on my face as he slowly pushes in. 

"Oh!" Is about all I can say. It burns for sure, and is uncomfortable, but not painful. And as he pushes further in, I feel him rub up against that spot he made sensitive with his fingers moments before. My fingers dig into his biceps, his muscles strong beneath my nails as he slowly slides back out. 

“Are you ok?” He asks, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

“I will be once you’re back inside of me.”

“Fuck you’re gonna kill me.” 

He pushes back into me, still slowly but a little faster this time. When he can go no further, he waits, holding his hips still to give me a moment. I feel so full of him, my head swimming with his scent while I relax and stretch around him. He must feel the tension leaving me, as he pulls back out and pushes back in, more quickly. After about 5 more of these, he pushes in rather quick and I yelp as he hits a spot at the back of me. 

“Fuck! Do that again!”

He smiles, one side of his mouth pulling up as he complies, thrusting into me harder and chuckling when he hears the breathy sounds coming from me. He keeps going, making sure to angle himself to thrust into that spot every time, eventually speeding up more, rutting into me as I come unglued beneath him, writhing and moving my hips to meet his, my vision going hazy at the edges as my body tingles and I come, nails digging into him as I chant his name over and over. Benny grunts and pulls out, spilling himself across my lower stomach, little breathy grunts coming from him as he comes. 

He takes a second when he’s done before getting up and grabbing a wet cloth from the bathroom. He cleans me up and returns with another cloth, wiping my overstimulated cunt, and chuckling when my legs twitch. He tosses the rag in his hamper and crawls on the bed next to me, pulling the sheet over us. Benny props himself up on his elbow, his finger tracing lines down my chest before using a finger to turn my head to him. 

“How are you feeling, Lil?”

I sigh, feeling the corners of my mouth pull into a soft smile. “Honestly? I’ve never felt better.”

He presses his lips lightly to mine. “The best you’ve ever felt, huh?”

I nod, turning on my side to face him. “You were right though. You’ve ruined other men for me. Good thing I only want one man.”

—----

A yell rips me from sleep and I sit up quick, my head rushing slightly as I look around the unfamiliar room, blinking a few times before remembering I was still at Benny’s. In his bed. A whimper echoes in the dark space and I look down, seeing Benny tangled in his sheets, curled up and sweating, eyes jammed shut and his mouth muttering words I can’t catch all of. I may have never seen it on Benny, but I am familiar with the nightmares. My dad has them all the time, one of the many reasons why I’m studying to be a psychiatrist and intend to reform the VA mental health unit. 

I gently place my hand on his bare shoulder, his skin warm and sweaty under my palm. “Benny, it’s ok. You’re here. I’m here.”

He whimpers once more before his eyes pop open, wet with unshed tears and he gasps, hand reaching out for something I can’t see. He blinks and turns his head, seeing my hand on his shoulder and he follows it up to my face.

“Lily?”

I smile. “Hey, Ben. Are you with me?”

“I…” he pulls his shoulder from me and sits up, pulling the blankets around his waist. “I’m sorry.” He’s wiping at his face, trying to push the tears away. “Just lock the door on your way out.”

“What?”

“When you leave, just take the key and lock the door. Slide it under the mat.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand? You’re kicking me out?”

“You want to leave, right?”

“No? Why would I?”

“Because I’m fucked up! I told you, Lil. I have so much shit with me. No one wants this.” 

“Ben. Look at me.”

He shakes his head. "I can't. Just.. lock the door on your way out."

"Ben-"

"I can't. I can't see that look on your face too, I just can't, Lily."

"Ben, please look at me." 

He sighs and turns his head, a hard expression on his face and I see it, all the hurt he’s had to endure from the women before me leaving him once his guard slipped. And I want to fight them all. I take his hand, lacing my fingers through his and bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

“Benjamin Miller, unless you kick me out, I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes water a little and he shakes his head to stop them. “But, the nightmares-”

“You think this is the first time I’ve seen a nightmare? Do you not remember who my dad is?”

“Fish gets nightmares too?”

I nod. “All the fucking time, Ben. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve talked him down. Why do you think I’m going into psych?”

“You’re…you’re really not wanting to leave?”

“No. I’d really rather stay here with you, make sure you’re ok, wake up next to you. As long as you’ll have me?”

He squeezes my hand and presses his forehead to mine. “I’d love that.”

I lay back and beckon him to me, placing his head on my chest as he cuddles into my side. He sucks one of my boobs in his mouth, claiming it’s his comfort toy. But soon after he’s sound asleep, his face peaceful and he doesn’t wake the rest of the night.

He brings me home the next day and I wave to him from the front steps as I walk through the front door. 

“She’s alive!”

“Ha-ha, dad. But I’m doing fine.”

“Was that Benny I saw dropping you off?”

“Oh. Yeah. He was at the bar last night.”

“And he brought you home this morning?”

I nod, kicking off my shoes. “Yeah. I was pretty drunk and my friends still wanted to party. His place was closest to the bar and I asked him to take me there. Didn’t think I could make it home.” I mimed throwing up, which is exactly what I wanted to do. I hate lying to him. 

“You could’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up.”

“I know. But Benny was already there. No sense in waking you up.”

“You know I don’t sleep.”

“Which is why you’re always so fun to be around.”

He looks fake hurt, pressing his hand to his chest. “I am a damn delight….but I’ll have to thank Benny for taking such good care of you.”

I hide my smirk before replying. “Please do.”

—----

The next few months pass and we keep us a secret, going on dates in the next towns over, meeting up whenever we can. I feel bad for lying to my dad and not telling him, but it’s not the right time. 

Benny is everything I thought he was and more. He makes me laugh, even cracking jokes as he’s pressed between my thighs. He makes me feel safe and I think I make him feel safer too. His nightmares, while still present, seem to happen less often, his body relaxing into mine as he sleeps deeply. 

Then there’s the sex. Oh God the sex. I know I have nothing to compare it to, but the way my friends talk about it, it seems like it’s often a chore. They talk about faking orgasms or men that are only concerned about themselves. Not Benny. He says he loves the sounds I make as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of me, pressing his body against and into mine against every surface of his house and his jeep, anywhere we can get away with it.  

About 6 months in, it’s our turn to host the monthly BBQ for all the boys. Will usually brings his wife and kids, Santi just himself, and Tom brings his family, so it’s a pretty big to do. I remember at BBQ’s in the past, sometimes Benny would show up with some girl and how jealous I was of her. And this time, I’m still jealous, because they got to be with him in the open. No passing touches or whispers, no hiding glances or anything. But I’m feeling bold, so I put on my favorite sundress, the one Benny had hitched up around my hips as he bent me over his kitchen table the last time we were together. And judging by the look on his face, he too has this same memory when he sees me in the dress. 

Everyone is outside, the kids screaming and running around, everyone else chatting, keeping an eye on the kids as my dad starts grilling. I feel Benny’s eyes on me as I set a few bowls of chips on the table, bending over just a little more than normal to expose more of my cleavage to him. I glance up at him and wink, turning and heading back into the house. I hear him come in behind me a couple minutes later, his eyes on me standing in the doorway to the hall. He silently follows me upstairs to my room, closing the door behind us and locking it before taking 2 steps towards me, pulling me to him and kissing me deeply. His hands fist in the sides of my dress, pulling it up higher on my hips. 

“You think you’re so slick wearing this dress?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

I pull him down on me, parting my thighs to let him settle between them as my back settles into my bed. My fingers twist in his hair, his hand trailing up my bare thigh as I whimper in his ear. 

“Wanna fuck in my bed. We haven’t done that yet.”

“Your dad’s outside.”

“So?”

“So what if he hears us?”

“I’ll deal with that then. Please fuck me Benny. I need you to fuck me.”

And so he does, pushing my panties aside and thrusting into me, one hand clamped over my mouth. I try to push him into me more, my hands gripping his ass, digging little marks into it when I come, legs spasming as Benny’s moans come right after, his hips rutting into mine as he fills me up. 

“Let me get something to clean you up with.”

“Don’t. I want to feel you inside me.”

“Fuckin’ hell you’re gonna kill me.”

—----

My chest heaves as Benny rolls off me and lays on his side, trying to catch his own breath. He slides his hand across my body and gently squeezes one of my boobs, his thumb grazing over my nipple. 

“You can’t possibly want to go again?” I ask, eyebrows raised. 

“What? This is my emotional support tiddy.”

Laughter erupts from me and Benny joins in, his smile making me feel warm all over. This is nice, this is comfortable. Benny makes everything in my life good. 

“You hungry? We did miss our dinner reservations.”

I chuckle. “Totally worth missing them.”

Benny props himself up on his elbow, his hand leaving my boob to start sliding down my bare stomach. “Oh I agre-”

GROWL! 

My stomach has decided enough is enough and the sound it makes is loud in the quiet room. Benny laughs again, his head flying back with it before he brings his lips to my stomach, speaking to it.

“You hungry, girl? Should we get some food in ya?”

I ruffle his hair and he turns, his cheek resting on my stomach as his eyes meet mine. We stare at each other for a few moments before he chuckles. “Your stomach is so loud.”

“Ok, fine. I’m hungry,” I smile.

He sits up, giving me a quick kiss before rolling off the bed. “I’ll go make us something. You can shower if you’d like. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” He leaves the room, sliding some pants on before he does. I make my way to his bathroom across the hall and take in my appearance, fixing my hair so it’s not too wild before sliding one of his shirts on. I make my way down the hall and stand in the entrance to the kitchen, watching Benny move about the kitchen, no shirt and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He tosses a kitchen towel over his shoulder as he flips a pancake, one of his specialties, humming to himself as he does. His hair is sticking up at all angles, looking like he’d just rolled around in bed for hours. Which I guess, technically, he did. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his back before resting my cheek against it. 

“You want strawberries or chocolate chips in yours, Lil?”

“Do I have to pick?”

He pauses for a moment. “Shit, why did I never think to combine those?” He adds both cut up strawberries and chocolate chips to his mix, pouring out another round of batter on the griddle. “I may have to steal one.”

“I’ll fight you for it.”

He slides the pancake off the spatula and spins, gripping my wrists before I can move. “I’d like to see- are you in my shirt?”

“Mmhmm.”

He drops my wrists and slides his hands around my hips, feeling for something. “Are you..are you not wearing any underwear?”

“How else am I supposed to feel you dripping down my legs?” Benny groans, gripping my jaw and pulling me in for a heated kiss, but the sound of a key jiggling in his front door lock kills the mood. In one quick motion, Benny is shoving me back through the doorway and down the hall, motioning for me to hide. I step into his room and close the door almost all the way just as the front door opens. 

“Hey, Ben.”

“Hey..Fish.”

The door closes and I feel the color drain from my face. My dad is here and almost walked in on us fucking in the kitchen. 

“Hope it’s ok I used my key? Normally you complain about having to get up and open the door.”

“No, no that’s fine. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Lil is at her friend’s studying this weekend so I thought we could watch the fight?”

“The fight?”

There’s a slight pause. “The big fight? Between Samson and Jueng?”

“Oh right. The fight. Yeah, I think the neighbors in 2B are having some kind of party.”

“That explains why the parking lot is slammed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey listen, Frankie, I uh…I’m a little…” There’s a pause where Benny fumbles for words. 

“Oh shit, I should’ve called, Ben. I just got bored and I remembered you said you were staying in this weekend. Thought we could hang.”

“No, no. It’s uh, it’s ok. Did..did you want some pancakes?”

“For dinner?”

“I already made some.”

“Sure, sounds good. Bathroom useable?”

“It’s clean, fucker.”

Dad’s chuckle gets closer and I step away from the crack in the bedroom door, like he could see me through it. When I hear the bathroom door close, I yank on some pants and grab my shoes, tiptoe running down the hall and meet Benny at the door. 

“I’ll let you know when he leaves.”

I nod. “Sounds good. I still want pancakes.”

“Ok ok but you have to go now,” He’s practically pushing me out of the door, but just before it closes, he reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me back and kissing me before letting me go, a smile as the door closes and I hear my dad’s voice coming back down the hall.  

That was close.

—----

Several weeks later, I decided to grab some dinner on my way to Benny’s, neither of us feeling much like cooking. I wait at the counter of the diner, studying the pie menu while our burgers cook. It’s hard to pick out pie for Benny because he loves them all. Even Rhubarb. I decide on a slice of apple and a slice of buttermilk pie, placing the order with the waitress.

“No pecan?”

I jump, my head jerking to look at my dad, leaning against the counter, menu in hand and looking at me. 

“Pecan?”

“You’re favorite?”

“Oh. Yeah I thought I’d try something new.”

He nods. “So, you weren’t going to tell your old man you were getting shitty food before coming home?”

“You’re here too.”

He laughs. “True.” His eyebrows furrow together as the waitress brings 2 large bags and reads off the order. I try to cut her off but she plows through, smiling at the end. 

“Anything else, dear?”

“N-no. I’m good.” She walks off and I can feel my dad’s eyes on me. 

“Hungry?”

“What?”

He nods towards the bags. “There’s enough food there for two. Especially with that last burger. Double cheese, double bacon, and extra pickles? That’s exactly what Benny orders so I know it’s entirely too much.”

I laugh nervously. “Uh yeah. That’s..that’s mine. Period.” He looks at me, understanding. 

“And the other burger?”

“Uh surprise! I was going to bring food home.”

He smiles and I feel terrible. “We must have been thinking the same thing. Thanks, mija. Need some help?”

“Sure.”

He takes the burger bag and I take the other, walking me over to my car. He waits for me to get in and hands me the bag. 

“See you at home!” 

When he’s turned away and solidly heading to his truck, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Benny. 

Me: No burgers tonight. Dad came in. Had to tell him I was buying for us.

Benny Baby: Oh shit! Did he know?

Me: He recognized your order but nothing past that. I’m sorry! Can I come tomorrow?

Benny Baby: Oh I plan on making you come many times 

—----

It was a couple weeks before we could manage to see each other again and we wasted no time in making up for it. Benny pressed himself between my thighs over and over, pulling as many sounds from me as he could before I just couldn’t take anymore, completely over stimulated. Only then did we get dressed and head out to dinner across town, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we walked into my favorite Italian restaurant, laughing and sharing breadstick puns as we waited for our food. After force feeding ourselves some dessert, we walked back around the building, Benny pushing me against the side of his jeep, slotting his leg between my thighs as he pushes his tongue in my mouth, my hands fisting in his shirt. I can feel him getting harder against me and I wonder how unoccupied this parking lot is or if I even care. 

“I thought that was you. You got a secret girlfriend?”

Benny freezes at his brother’s voice, pulling back slowly and looking into my eyes, fear and apologies swirling around in his baby blues. He tries his best to turn around without showing me, but the angle is weird and he can’t quite hide all of me, no matter how I try to angle myself. 

“Wait…Lily?” Will says, completely shocked. 

I sigh, stepping out from behind Benny. “It’s me.”

He’s not smiling, gripping the takeout bag he has in his hand a little tighter as he looks at Benny. “That’s Fish’s daughter, Ben.”

“I fuckin��� know, Will. Don’t you think I know?”

“You’re making out with Fish’s daughter. His daughter.” 

“Yeah. And you’re not gonna tell him.”

“Why the fuck shouldn’t I? You shouldn’t be fucking around - shit, are you fucking around with her?”

I feel Benny’s body tense and I gently lace my fingers through his, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by Will. 

“That’s Lily, Ben! You shouldn’t be…I gotta call Fish.”

Before he can move, I step in front of Benny and grip Will’s arm gently. He looks down at me, his grey blue eyes studying me as if he’s trying to see if I’ve been coerced. 

“Please don’t, Will. I promise we will tell him. Eventually.”

“Tell him what, exactly?”

I glance back at Benny, giving him a small smile before looking back at Will. “We’re together. I am the secret girlfriend and the reason he hasn’t been around as much.”

Will looks from me to Benny and back. “He put you up to this?”

“Hey fuck you, man!”

I put my hand up, touching Benny’s chest. “No. If anything, I convinced him.”

“You’re Fish’s daughter, Lil.”

“I’m aware.”

“One of our best friend’s daughters.”

“That’s me.”

“I don’t know, I…”

“Will… please? I promise we will tell him. We’ve just…been enjoying each other and seeing where this takes us.”

He cocks his head slightly. “So it’s really not just sex?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He looks between us again, looking like he’s doing some mental math. “Alright but only for you, Lil. Benny knows better. But you have to promise you’re gonna tell him.”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Will.” I give him a hug and he returns it with one arm, the other still holding a heavy bag of take out. His eyes never leave Benny’s and I watch as they grow hard. 

“I love you, Ben. But if you hurt her, I’m not gonna hold back Fish.”

Benny nods. “That’s fair.”

—----

I love him. He tried telling me I’d grow out of him, but I didn’t. If anything I fell more in love with him as time went on. Benny let his final walls down, telling me how much he loves me, how I accept him, all of him, and how he thought he’d never find that. I don’t know how we made it 8 months without telling anyone or anyone figuring it out, aside from Will. 

It wasn’t until my dad came home early, finding Benny and me making out on the couch that I remembered why we were keeping it a secret. Thank God he didn’t come home 2 minutes later. 

“What the fuck is this?” He slams the door behind him, the walls rattling and Benny and I spring apart, Benny jumping up as my dad storms towards him. “SHE’S MY DAUGHTER, BEN!” 

Benny has his hands out in a placating manner. “I know, but-”

“My daughter! She is not for you!”

“No, but-”

Anger rises up from my chest. “You have no say over who I get with!”

He looks at me, his dark eyes fuming. “I do when it’s my best friend and my daughter! You’re only 21, Lily!”

“So? I am not some thing you can pass around! My life is my own! I can date and fuck whomever I want!”

His eyes go wide, cheeks flushing with built up anger as he turns his rage towards Benny. “Wait…have you slept with her?”

“Wh-what?”

His voice raises, loud enough I know the neighbors are listening in. “Have you fucked my daughter, Ben?”

The color drains from Benny’s face. “Let’s talk about thi-”

BAM! My dad’s fist collides with Benny’s face, his head flying back. Luckily, Benny knows how to take a punch, thanks to his days as an MMA fighter. He straightens up, dodging the next swing from my dad, his hands still up trying to placate him. 

“Dad!” I push past him and stand in front of Benny, turning his face towards me to inspect his lip, which is now bleeding, a dark circle starting to appear under his eye. I round on my dad.

“What the fuck dad?”

“Don’t dad me! You’ve been lying to me for months! Sleeping with Benny? He’s my best friend, Lily!”

“I know, but-”

“You just never stop to think about the consequences. What did you think was gonna happen? He’s 13 years older than you!”

“Yes, but-”

“He’s done some shit, but putting his hands on my daughter is the thing I’m gonna kill him for.”

“Ok, dad. Kitchen. Now. Benny? First aid kit in the bathroom.” I push on my dad’s chest, willing him to move. He glares over my shoulder at Benny as he moves into the kitchen, but doesn’t sit. 

“What the fuck, Lily?”

“I know, but let me explain.”

“Benny?”

“I love him, dad.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his other hand on his hip in his typical dad pose. “I know you think you love him mija, but it’s just infatuation. You’re young.”

“Do you remember a few years ago, you asked me why I had boyfriends but none of them seemed to stick? And I told you I didn’t like them or want any of them?”

He thinks for a moment. “Yeah.”

“What did I say after that?”

“I said maybe you haven’t found the right person and you said no it’s because…” I raise my eyebrows at him until he continues. “...because you were in love with someone else.”

“You told me to go for it and I said I couldn’t because there’s no way he likes me the same way and it would be complicated.”

His shoulders slump, a little bit of the anger seeping from him. “Benny?”

“Benny.”

“How do you know he feels the same way?”

“Didn’t you tell me a few months ago how good he looks? That he said he was seeing someone but wasn’t ready to bring her around everyone yet? But that he hasn’t looked this happy in the entire time you’ve known him?”

“Fuck. It was you?”

“Me. We love each other, dad. We have for years, but didn’t say it until my birthday.”

“Wait. You told me Benny let you stay over because you were drunk. Did he-”

“No. I barely drank. My friends ditched me and he saw me. We went for dinner and then back to his place where..confessions were made.”

“You lied to me?”

“You didn’t ask me if I slept with him, dad.”

“Dammit. I hate when you’re right.” 

“Are…are we going to be ok?”

He pulls me to him in a bear hug, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll always love you, mija. But your boyfriend I may have to warm up to. God that feels weird to say.”

Benny pokes his head around the corner. “Is it safe?”

Dad turns his head to him, hugging me tighter. “I haven’t decided if I want to kill you yet.”

“Well while you’re deciding, can I just say how much I love her? She’s smart and funny, and she makes the world bright again. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“You’re damn right she is. So what if I told you I don’t want you dating her?”

“Dad-”

“Sshh. I’m asking him.”

“With all due respect, Fish. I’d tell you to go fuck yourself and date her anyway. I love you, you’re my best friend, but she’s the one for me and I won’t let anything come between us unless she wants it to.”

He lets me go and stomps up to Benny, who is a few inches taller than him. He glares up at him for a few moments before extending his hand out. 

“Ok.”

“Ok?"

“Just do me a favor and don’t kiss in front of me?”

“Deal.”

“Speak for yourself, Ben. I plan on making out with you whenever I can.”

A year later we’re married, both of us eternally grateful for my friends ditching me on my birthday that night.

—----

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[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 7

Picture for Banner: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️Warnings: Ab*se, Violence, Mental Health, Cursing, Smut (mild), treat it as a normal Enemies 2 Lovers book, but the A/B/O dynamic will appear at some point. Trauma, manipulation, dirty talk, omegaverse topics.

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: I promise, we're entering the mature zone soon! Just gotta be patient with me ;) Remember, all reblogs are very much appreciated, as well as your comments!

Also! I am uploading a very short story about Stripper!Eddie and a very Shy reader ;) Here you go.

Anyways, Enjoy!

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Chapter 7

“Please, please, give me a break, I can’t do this again, please!” You yelled while laying on the hospital’s bed, your upper body propped up with each foot hooked into some metal pedals in each corner of the bed to keep your legs spread.

The doctor pulled away, looking up from in between your legs with pity eyes and shook her head.

“We can’t stop the process sweetheart, a pause can cause an alteration and we’re already more than halfway there! I promise!” You were processing what she was saying, with tears streaming down your cheeks, your bottom lip busted open from biting onto it way too hard to control your cries. The pain was unbearable, feeling like you were being split open, your insides being ripped apart. 

But you wanted this. You both wanted this. Something is wrong with you, it has to be. There’s no other explanation for it, no matter if the doctors ran a bunch of tests on you and said everything should really be fine, you didn’t believe that. Something was not working, but you really wanted this. 

So you nodded for your doctor to proceed, and the pain worsened from there.

———————————————————————————

“Buckley!” You busted the bar doors open in a slam, red faced, completely pissed off, already strutting towards the all too well booth and there she was. Hiding behind Steve at the corner of the seat, and your glare was digging a bullet through her skull. Robin gulped and looked over Steve’s shoulder.

“H-Hi! I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“Sorry?! You left me to do Hargrove’s presentation all by myself! And now I find you drinking again after telling me you felt sick in your stomach today! What’s the fucking deal Robin!?” You were pissed, so much, you didn’t notice the man sitting across Robin while he took a sip of his beer.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry– I just didn't feel like going into work today either, and now I feel better!” She tried to excuse herself but you shook your head at her, sitting inside the booth, right next to the man that was looking at you as if you were crazy because you still hadn’t noticed him, and now you were sitting next to him.

Your eyes were filled with rage, and also another feeling you didn’t want to feel with Robin. You were feeling used. As if she had taken advantage of you for this project, but you didn’t even have to punish her for it, because–

“Beer for She-Hulk.” You heard Jonathan talk, and he knew you too well, placing the cold beer right in front of your face. Whenever you were angry, you ordered beer instead of a sweet drink. You grabbed onto the bottle and took a large sip of it, Steve’s eyes frowning in worry as he looked back and forth to you and the man next to you.

“Um–” Robin began and you slammed your bottle on the table, giving a huge sigh. You looked down at the condensation of the bottle, and you knew you would have to deliver the news to Robin. So without looking up, you kept staring at the label of the beer.

“Mrs. Liana took you off our project.” And silence fell on the table. Robin was looking at you, completely perplexed as you kept looking down at the bottle. She knew she didn’t help you much with the project, but it still stung in her heart that she was ripped away from it.

“You didn’t stop her?” She asked you and you looked up at her with a frown on your eyebrows.

“What did you want me to say? All the beta presentations of the project were done by me because you didn’t know what to say Robs. No matter if I did a speech for you or not! And then, the final presentation and you didn’t show either!” You did try to help Robin be more into the project, knowing it was a big opportunity for the both of you, but she was busy with Vickie visiting, or going out with Steve, or ‘feeling sick’.

Robin was looking now at her own bottle of beer, feeling completely dejected. She knew she had it coming, her own negligence kicking her right back in the ass. She sighed and took a sip of her drink, giving you a nod.

“It’s fine. I deserve it. But it means more work for you then.” You wanted to yell at her, telling her that she didn’t really help, so it would really just remain the same for you. You took a deep breath in, calmed down, and gave Robin a nod.

“Yes. But it’s fine, I can handle it.” You shrugged and took another sip, a little bit calmer now. You were stressed because of this, because it meant all the meetings and getting together with clients will be thrown your way, but this was nothing. You liked the distraction.

“Hey, I’m sorry… I had my head stuck in useless stuff.” You shook your head at her and smiled sadly.

“Hey, at least you got a life. I only have my work, and a list of useless people that don’t know how to satisfy someone else’s needs.” You say, taking out a pack of flavored marlboro from your suit’s pocket. You were in the smoking section of the bar, and each booth had vents over their heads to keep the smoke out. You lit it up to take a large swig out of the stick, letting the smoke fill your lungs to then exhale out, feeling your muscles relax.

“Um…” You heard Steve call you out and you looked at him with a confused look on your face, but he wasn’t looking at you. You followed his gaze towards the person that was sitting next to you, and had been staring at you since you sat down.

Brown irises locked with your own eyes, and you felt a cold sweat invade you, but no anger came to your chest. You were far too stressed for this bullshit, so you sighed heavily and rested against the back of the booth, looking back towards the bottle. 

“Great.” You say, taking a sip of your drink while holding the smoke on your other hand. 

“I don’t know how you didn’t notice me.” Eddie asks you while taking another sip of his drink, his stomach was in a knot while sitting next to you, and he could sense your distress ever since you entered the bar. 

“You aren’t the center of the world Munson, or my world for that matter. Sorry to disappoint you.” You say bitterly and Eddie bit the inside of his bottom lip to contain the snarky remarks he wanted to say to you, but Steve shot him one glare with a shake of his head. Eddie let out a shaky, angry, breath and clenched his jaw tightly.

“About the other night–”

“Please don’t.” You immediately spat out through your teeth. You didn’t have the energy to deal with his half ass apology, and you weren’t in the mood of apologizing either. Eddie’s eyes perked up at your response and looked at you, his mood souring each minute it passed.

“I’m trying to be civil here, Peach.” He calls you out and you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, taking another swig of your cigarette, looking at him to blow the smoke into his face. He closed his eyes but didn’t flinch, his body heating up with anger as he opened them up to look at you again.

“Forget about it. You trying to be civil Munson is like a penguin learning to fucking fly.” And you heard Steve sigh heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand while Robin stared at the interaction. Eddie scoffed, slamming the bottle on the table to look at you.

“What is your fucking problem? I am trying to apologize, and you can’t help but be an insufferable cunt.” 

“Look in the mirror Munson.” You took a large swig of the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray. “Like I said, forget it. I don’t want half assed apologies you don’t really want to make, and we don’t have to act like we tolerate each other. Yeah?” You say, blowing the smoke out of your lips as you talked. The panging on your chest was due to realizing you were sitting next to your mortal enemy, but it increased knowing he wanted to lie to you.

An apology? From him? Yeah, right.

“What the hell are you even smoking?” He asked, grabbing the pack in front of you to inspect it. “Does this really say Melon flavored? Jesus christ.” He dropped the pack back in front of you to take a sip of his own beer. You were about to retort to him, tell him he can shove his original flavored camels right up his ass, but your phone started to ring. 

You pulled it out, the tune of Harry Potter filling the air as you looked at the caller ID. You didn’t recognize the number, so it might be from your work. You sighed. You didn’t expect to have these kinds of calls right after your final presentation. You believed this would happen after meeting with a few clients, giving them your contact for future conversations. You slid the green button and put the phone in your ear.

“Hello?” You greet, taking a sip of your beer.

“Hi there Mousy.”

You spat it all over Steve and the table before you. Coughing wildly as you patted your chest to regain your breathing. Steve had stood up with a yell, trying to wipe his face and clothes as Robin let out a wild laugh, pointing at the stains on his shirt. Eddie was just bewildered at the interaction, but couldn’t help but hold in strangled chuckles in his throat.

“Shit!” You yell, grabbing onto a napkin to wipe away your mouth and hand Steve some more as he glared at you. 

“Damn, did I call at a bad time?” You heard him chuckle on the other side, and you felt nerves and warmth invade your whole body. He sounded way too good on the phone, Jesus christ. 

“I– wait–” You stood up, motioning for Robin to keep an eye on your stuff and she nodded at you while holding her giggles in, trying to fix Steve’s hair. The brown haired guy was still glaring at you as you made motion with your hand as a sorry. You stepped away from the booth, walking outside of the bar to talk a little bit more privately. “Sorry, I’m at a bar with friends and could barely hear you.”

“Ah, so I did call at a bad time.” He says, and you could even hear the smile on his face as he did, because he wasn’t going to hang up. You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile as you scratched your cheek nervously. 

“How did you get my number?” You ask him and you hear some clinking on the other side, and then a gulp. You licked your lips at the sound and you cursed at the sky for how needy you were being that the sound of ‘gulping’ was making you horny.

“Well, my agent told me you are my editor in chief for that article, so of course I asked for your number so we could stay in touch, you know… just in case.” He was smirking against the phone and you know it. “I never call other people that aren’t acquaintances on my personal phone… But I can make an exception for you, Mousy.”

Oh, he was smooth. He was telling you he was calling you from his personal phone instead of the work related one. Meaning that the only person with access to this phone, was him only, and not his agent. You gripped onto the phone tightly against your ear and you let out a small giggle.

“Is that supposed to impress me Mr. Hargrove? Remember, we work together now.” You explain to him and you hear him laugh on the other side.

“Alright, humor me then, Mousy. When’s the next meeting happening?” You scrunched up your nose in thought and counted the days in your head.

“I believe is next wednesday Mr. Hargrove. Curtis Delore was very interested in your Balenciaga design.” You explain to him and you hear him whistle on the other side. 

“Delore, huh. But Wednesday? Don’t you think it’s a little far away?” Oh, things are turning interesting now. You licked the inside of your right cheek, feeling your stomach fill with butterflies at the attention this man was giving you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought I could meet with you tomorrow. Discuss my work, and what we should say to the clients, just so all of our stories match.” Your breath was knocked out of your lungs. He was asking you out, this model was asking you out, on a saturday.

“Oh, we can definitely do that.”

“Great–” 

“On monday, at my office.” You reply to him, and on the other side of the phone, Billy Hargrove was stunned. He was rejected. Holy fuck, he was rejected. He should be angry, hang up, because no one belittled him like that. No one.

Yet, you… for whatever reason it is, he couldn’t help it. He was adoring this game of cat and mouse, which he never did, much less for someone like yourself. It’s not that you weren’t beautiful, but he always went for people of his same radius. Meaning actresses, models, singers. Famous people. 

None of the relationships Billy had lasted more than two months. The relationships were empty, filled with sex and empty conversations, fake interviews, fake scenarios his agent made him make up and talk about them in a talk show. He never had to flirt more than one night, much less go through the hustle of almost begging for someone’s number. But you were like a drug to him right now, and he wanted more, desired more. 

“Ah, so the game is still on, very well.” Your heart was on your throat, and you were about to say goodbye to him but suddenly his voice deepened in your ear and you almost dropped your device to the floor. “Mousy, one of these days you are going to come to me, on your own accord… And I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel.”

Your breathing became heavy as you clenched your legs together. Heat was rushing from your core, going all over your body at his words. You wanted to take it all back, tell him you’ll meet tomorrow, because the tension was too strong right now, and you could barely handle it. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to satisfy yourself tonight, or the day after now. There was no way.

“I–”

“Goodbye Mousy. See you on monday.” And like that, you heard the line click. Your mouth was open, staring at nothing, slowly blinking as you felt the air leaving your mouth but not feeling it really filling up your lungs. After two seconds of processing what happened, you smiled and squealed loudly, doing a little jump in your place as you tightened the phone to your chest.

You were sure he would believe you were rejecting him there, and to be honest, you were unsure if that would have been the right decision to do when he was kind of your employer in this article. But it’s temporary, literally month temporary, so you two wouldn’t be working together for long. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, walking back into the bar and sitting in the booth again, not caring any longer of who was sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry Steve.” You said with a wince as you saw how badly he was glaring at you, your smile dropping immediately at his state. His hair was pushed back, with the wet stains all over his polo shirt.

“Who called for you to react like that?” Steve asked with a sneer as Robin kept wiping his hair away with a tissue, grimacing at the smell of beer in his hair.

“Oh, that was–” And you froze. This wasn’t a hook up from the dating app, nor a stranger you see on the street. He might not even want this to be public, this teasing of yours, or this friendship, or whatever it is. Not even to your own friends. You felt your chest press on you and gulped, giving him a soft smile. “My mom.”

“So you jump like a high school girl when your mom calls you? You must love her very much.” Eddie said next to you, with venom in his tone now. You winced under your breath but kept the smile on your face as you turned to look at him.

“That I do.” You saw his jaw clench and unclench and he was fighting with everything in him to not call you out. But he had to calm down, breathing deeply and giving you a nod, turning to look at Robin. He knows that it wasn’t your fault that she was pushed aside from that project, and he knew you were feeling bad about it. He noticed it when your bottom lip quivered when you said she wasn’t going to participate in it anymore.

But now, you were lying again. So he took a big sip out of his beer, taking it all in one go. He raised his hand up to Jonathan to ask for another one, and when he came to the table, everyone ordered another set of beers, except for you.

“A Strawberry Daiquiri.” You said to Jonathan and he raised his eyebrows up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Not angry anymore? Sitting next to Munson? Really?” Robin was squinting while staring at you, wondering what was going on, but she knew you would tell her sooner or later. Right? You were looking at your phone, saving the newest contact on your list.

‘B. H.’

“Yeah, I’m in a better mood now.”

End of chapter 7

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[sequinsmile-x]

Haze

Their toddler is sick and sleeping in their bed, so Aaron and Emily have some...alone time in the shower.

-x-

Hi friends,

It's been a little while since I wrote some smut so here we are. This is very much a combo of smut and family/domestic fluff - so I hope you enjoy it <3

This is a little gift for my bestie @cloudlessly-light!

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Smut, 18+, their kid throws up but it's not in any detail

Words: 3.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron steps out of the ensuite into the master bedroom and smiles when he sees his wife and youngest son snuggled together in bed. Emily smiles up at him as she runs her fingers through Elliot’s hair, slowly lulling the two-year-old to sleep.

“He still has a fever,” Emily says, briefly pressing her palm against Elliot's head and wincing at the temperature of it, “The Tylenol helped, but he still feels rough,” she presses her lips together and sighs sadly, her heart aching as it always did when one of the boys were sick, “He told me his stomach feels icky.” 

Aaron smiles as he climbs into bed with them, “When I spoke to his teacher at Daycare she said it’s been going around for a few weeks,” he says, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her lips before he pulls back, settling onto his side of the bed, “He’ll be okay in a couple of days.” 

“I know,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek as she looks down at her son, the sight of his flushed skin making her stomach churn, “Doesn’t make it any easier to watch.” 

He shifts closer, careful to not disturb Elliot as he loops his arm around Emily’s shoulders. He remembered the first time Jack got sick after they got together, how she’d immediately become his son’s place of comfort. It had always been the case with Elliot too, the little boy had always been all about his mother since the moment he was born. Aaron couldn’t blame his sons for it, he knew it was one of the many things they got from him, her comfort and embrace something he craved, something he can’t remember living without. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says sympathetically, “but he’ll be back to his normal self in-”

Aaron is cut off as Elliot suddenly sits up, just lifting his head from Emily’s chest far enough to throw up, taking him and both of his parents by surprise. Emily grimaces as it gets all over the sheets and she feels some of it land on her t-shirt, but she puts her own discomfort aside and rubs her son’s back as Aaron stands up and quickly steps into the bathroom to grab the trashcan and he brings it back out, placing it in front of his son.

“You’re okay, sweet boy,” Emily says, rubbing his back as he finishes, sniffing as he looks up at her, his face sticky with tears, “You all done?”

“Sorry, Mama,” he says as he nods, his eyes shining as his chin trembles. 

“Oh, it’s okay baby,” she says, smiling up at Aaron as he nods in agreement with her, “You didn’t mean to get sick. Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” 

Elliot nods and she smiles at him, cupping his cheek for a moment before she stands up and lifts him onto her hip. She turns to look at Aaron and sighs gratefully when she sees he’s already got fresh bedding out, that she was lucky enough to be married to someone whom she didn’t need to ask to help. 

“I’ll take the opportunity to give him a lukewarm bath,” she says, walking towards the ensuite, “Try and get his fever down a little more.” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he replies, “I’ll get everything sorted in here,” he can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was barely holding herself together because their little boy was sick. The kids had always been her Achilles heel, the chink in her anchor. He smiles at her, “Remember when we used to change the sheets before bed for fun reasons?” 

She laughs, shaking her head at him as she does so, “Feels like a long time ago right now.” 

He winks at her, “We still have a lot of fun.”

She smiles gratefully at him for cheering her up a little, for knowing her well enough to know how to. 

“We can have some fun when someone is back in his own bed,” she says as she turns into the bathroom and places Elliot down on the closed toilet seat. She kneels in front of him and smiles encouragingly as she starts to help him out of his pjyamas. “You’ll feel better after a bath, Eli,” she says, pulling his pyjama shirt over the top of his head and tossing it towards the hamper, “And then we’ll get back into bed.” 

“I made mess,” he says, his eyes still shining up at her, and she swears she can hear her heart break. She wishes she could make him feel better, that she could take the sickness away from him and endure it herself, but she settles for what she can do - provide the comfort he needs.

“It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose,” she says, repeating what she’d said in the bedroom as she stands up and starts running a bath, “And Daddy is cleaning it all up,” she smiles as she leans down, making a point of winking at him to try and make him smile, “He’s always clearing up my messes.” 

Elliot giggles, the sound briefly warming her chest until it turns into a cough. She lifts him, carrying him over to the bath and gently lowering him into it. She gives a bath, smiling to herself as he starts to get sleepy even though he’s sitting in lukewarm water. By the time she’s done and wrapping him up in a fluffy towel the door to the bathroom opens and Aaron pops his head in, smiling softly at Emily.

“The bed is all done,” he says, stepping into the room, “And I got some fresh pjyamas for him out of his room,” he watches as Emily lifts Elliot onto her hip, the toddler snuggled up in the towel she’d wrapped him in. Emily had always been beautiful to Aaron, even long before he had a right to think it back when he was married to someone else. She’d only got more beautiful over the years, impossibly more gorgeous to him as time went on. He’d seen her in designer dresses and tailor-made suits, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her more beautiful than she was right now - standing in their ensuite, their youngest son wrapped up in her arms and vomit stains on her t-shirt. He smiles as he steps towards them, his arms offered out towards Elliot, “Want me to take him? I can get him ready for bed and you can jump in the shower if you want,” the corner of his lips turn up into a smile, “You definitely got the worst of it.” 

She nods, the feel of her t-shirt sticking to her skin was driving her crazy, and she knew she couldn’t get back into fresh sheets without washing her hair. She presses a kiss to Elliot’s head before she passes him over.

“You go with Daddy, okay?” 

She’s grateful when the toddler doesn’t argue, simply resting his head against Aaron’s shoulder in a way that lets her know he’ll be asleep in minutes. She blows out a breath as she walks towards the shower, stripping herself of her pyjamas and dumping them in the hamper alongside Elliot’s. 

She relaxes as soon as the hot water hits her skin, immediately easing some of the tension in her back and shoulders. She washes her hair twice, humming softly to herself as she does so. She smiles when she hears the door to the bathroom open again, and she peers out of the shower, her smile getting wider as she watches Aaron close the door behind him. 

“Is he okay?” She asks, and Aaron nods in response.

“Already fast asleep,” he replies, the heat of the bathroom cloying, the steam flowing through the room letting him know his wife had the temperature up high just like she always did. He can’t bring himself to care as he watches droplets of water running down the soft valleys of her skin, freckles and scars and curves he was intimately familiar with almost shining in the low light of the room. He feels his sweatpants get a little tighter and he steps towards the shower, already taking his t-shirt off as he speaks,  “Need help in there?” 

She chuckles as she turns to look at him, her expression turning incredulous as she sees that he’s serious, standing in front of her as he reveals that he’s already half hard as he takes off his sweatpants.

“Are you serious?” She asks, shaking her head at him, ignoring how she can feel the heat building in her belly, “I’m literally showering because I had to get our kid’s vomit out of my hair.” 

He smiles at her as he steps into the shower, “When will you learn I always want you?” He asks, his voice rough, choked full of desire in a way that makes her stomach flip. Her mouth goes dry and she licks her lips, her gaze fixed on his as he stares at her.

“Maybe you should show me again,” she says, all pretence that she didn’t want this too gone in a second as he steps even closer, guiding her out of the stream of water and pressing her against the wall. It makes her whimper, the contrast between the heat of the air and him sharp in comparison to the cool tile wall, “Remind me.” 

He’s kissing her before she’s even finished speaking, his hard firm on her jaw as he holds her in place. She moans and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth as his other hand drifts to her waist, pulling her closer as they continue to kiss. She pulls away when the need to breathe takes over and she smiles at him, her eyes glazed over and her lips already swollen. 

“We’ll have to be quick,” she says, licking her lips to chase the taste of him, “There’s a toddler in our bed.” 

He smirks at her, leaning down to press his lips against her ear, sending goose pimples across her skin, “I think we both know I don’t need much time to take you apart, sweetheart.” 

She narrows her eyes, a challenge already on the tip of her tongue that dies as he reaches between them, his thumb delicate and fleeting against her clit. She grasps his arms, her short nails digging into his skin as he smirks against her neck. He starts to rub circles against her and she groans, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He kisses along her neck, licking droplets of water from her skin as she tightens her grip on him. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out, his name trapped in her throat, “I need-”

He already knows what she needs, he always did, and he slips his hand between her legs, encouraging her to widen her stance as he slips two fingers inside of her, pride flashing in his chest as she immediately clenches around him. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, kissing down her chest as she rests her head back against the wall of the shower, “Let me make you feel good,” he licks over one of her nipples, smiling as she involuntarily thrusts her hips against his hand, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“Holy fuck,” she grits out, rolling her hips against his hand again, silently asking for more. She trails her nails down his sides, taking some satisfaction in how he shivers when she reaches his hips. 

He wraps her hand around him, smirking as he groans against her breast as she starts to pump him up and down. He kisses his way back up to her mouth, swallowing the moan she lets out as he changes the angle of the fingers he has pumping inside of her, his palm pressed against her clit. She clenches around his fingers and he feels her thighs start to shake. He pulls away from her lips, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then her jaw, his words muffled against her skin. 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at her throat as she does just that, her hands shifting to his back as she pulls him closer, fire burning through her veins as she leaves red trails on his skin, “That’s it,” he croons, “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

She pulls him in for a kiss, desperate to feel his lips against hers as she comes down from her high, every nerve ending sparking as she sighs into his mouth. He places his hand on her hip, his skin slippery from her and the water still falling around them and he pulls back from the kiss, his forehead against hers as he smiles.

“Turn around,” he says, kissing her again, his teeth briefly sinking into her lower lip as she nods. 

He helps turn her, his skin hot against her skin, making her shiver as he presses her against the wall, her breath catching in her chest as her nipples press against the tiles. He’s warm and pressed right up against her, the feeling overwhelming as he reaches between them, guiding himself into her. 

She gasps at the familiar stretch, her palms against the smooth wall as she tries to grasp at something. Aaron places his hands over hers, linking their fingers together as he rests his forehead against the back of her neck, grinding his teeth at the tightness of her, at the way she clenches around him. 

“You feel so good, Em,” he chokes out, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, “So fucking good.” 

“You do too,” she replies, breathless, feeling so full, so surrounded, by him that she can barely breathe, “You need to move, please move.” 

He’d never been able to deny her anything, so he starts to move, slowly moving his hips back and forth, purposely dragging pleasure out of her, well aware that it drove her crazy when he took her like this. She pushes her hips back against him, chasing him, silently asking him for more. He was huge, stretching her almost to her limit every time. 

The first time they’d done this, years ago now, he’d put off sleeping with her for weeks, eventually leading her to yell at him, her own insecurities peeking through until he admitted he was worried he’d hurt her. He was always exactly what she needed. Desperate and rough when she needed release that way, or soft and gentle, hands delicate on her skin, when she needed to be reminded of how much he loves her. 

The angle of him combined with the press of him behind her, the steam in the air that makes it harder to catch her breath, makes her orgasm build up quickly. She’s not even sure she came down from her first one entirely, her body still twitching against his. 

“I’m close,” she grits out, and he smiles against her cheek, encouraging her to turn her head enough to look at him. 

“I can tell,” he says, kissing her fiercely, “You get so tight when you’re like this,” he says, moving one of his hands down, gently circling her clit, knowing it was the last push she needs, “Come for me again, sweetheart.” 

She kisses him as she tips over the edge, her scream of his name muffled against his lips, something she’s grateful for because she’s not sure the sound of the shower would have covered it. 

He isn’t far behind her, his hips starting to stutter against hers as she rests her forehead against his temple, encouraging him with soft and filthy words as he tips over the edge, coming deep inside of her with a growl. 

They still for a moment, content in their embrace against the wall in silence until she chuckles and shakes her head, “You really are insatiable.” 

He laughs and kisses her again before he pulls back, raising his eyebrow at her as she turns to look at him, “You’re one to talk.” 

She narrows her eyes at him but kisses him quickly before she steps back into the stream of the water, “Come on, we actually should shower now.” 

They wash each other, hands soft and gentle where they’d been desperate and grasping only minutes before. She laughs as he carefully lathers her soap on her skin, pressing his lips against her shoulder as the bubbles wash down the drain.

He steps out of the shower first, reaching for a towel for her and passing it to her before he gets one for himself. 

“I got some clean pjyamas out for you,” he says, kissing her cheek as he wraps his towel low on his hips, watching intently as she starts to dry her skin, “They’re just on the bed in there.” 

She groans appreciatively and walks over to kiss his cheek, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he replies, kissing the corner of her lips, catching the chuckle she lets out, “I’ll meet you in there.” 

He makes quick work of changing back into his pjyamas, and he picks up the clothes from the floor that had missed the hamper and places them in there, making a mental note that he’d add them to the washer in the morning once the bedding was clean. 

He walks into the bedroom and smiles when he once again finds Emily and Elliot cuddled up on her side of the bed. 

“He didn’t even wake up when I moved him to get into my side,” she says quietly, “Poor little thing.” 

Aaron climbs into bed and kisses her before he kisses his son’s forehead, “His fever is down a little though, so the bath helped.” 

She hums, the sound turning into a yawn as she looks at him, “I guess being thrown up on does have its advantages.” 

He scoffs, faking offence as he shakes his head at her, “I thought what just happened in the shower was an advantage.” 

She smiles, but is cut off from saying anything when there’s a knock on the door before Jack walks in, a slightly dazed look on his face as he walks in, clearly half asleep. 

“Mom, Dad, I feel sick.” 

They both sigh internally and exchange a look, having a brief and silent conversation before Aaron lifts the covers on his side of the bed, “Come on buddy, come sleep with us.” 

Jack crawls into the bed and gets in between them, curling his arm over his little brother, “Love you guys.” 

“We love you too, honey,” Emily says, reaching out and pushing some of his hair off his forehead, smiling when she sees he’s already half asleep again. She looks up at her husband, “We’re never going to sleep in here alone again, are we?”

He shakes his head, “No sweetheart, we aren’t,” he smirks at her, “But at least we’ve got the shower.” 

-x-

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[thebest-medicine]

Show, Don’t Tell

The Owl House - lee!Luz, lee!Hunter, lee!Amity, ler!Camila, ler!Willow, ler!Gus, ler!Luz - [read on ao3]

Summary: Camila shows the rest of the Hexsquad a way she used to calm down / cheer up Luz during a scary movie when she was little. Soon, more of the Hexsquad reveal themselves to share the same weakness.

A/N: I come to bring you sweet owl house tickles, takes place during thanks to them

Words: 1.2k

…

“Si, and any time Luz was too scared—she always tried so hard to be brave! We always used to help cheer her up with—”

“Whoa! Mama, you don’t have to tell them about—”

“No, tell us! What is it?” Amity asked, a curious smile on her face at Luz’s blurted attempt to silence the story. Luz stared back at her with blushing cheeks before the eyes turned back to her mother a moment later.

“You’re right.. I shouldn’t tell them.” Camila said calmly. She waited for Luz to lose a bit of the tension from her shoulders, ler her guard down just a little… “I should show them!” She leapt toward her daughter with a war cry. Luz scrambled backward on the couch with a shriek of giggling terror.

“No! Mama! Dohohohohohohohon’t!” Luz cried, laughing already as she feebly fought to block the advancing, tickling hands. “Oh nohohohoho! Behehehetrayal!” She cackled as Camila got to her sides, pinching up along them to her ribs. Luz clutched at her wrists as she laughed, squishing herself further back into the couch.

“You see, Luz here is quite ticklish. Never fails to put a smile on her face!” Camila explained to the grinning witch teens as they watched on.

Luz’s face burned with embarrassment as she laughed and laughed, until finally her mother pulled back a minute later with a proud grin on her face. “Tadaa—Smiley Luz!”

“Moooom.” Luz whined through lingering laughter as she covered her face.

“Did you kids have this in the Demon Realm?” Camila asked next as Luz caught her breath.

Willow and Gus nodded with a familiar smile.

“My dad sometimes used to do that when I was growing up.”

“My dads too.”

“Heh, my parents never would have done anything like that, but, the twins...” Amity responded with a shudder at the memories. “They were pretty mean when it came to tickling growing up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, it’s not very fun when someone takes it too far.” Camila assured her. “Luz doesn’t mind as long as—”

“Mama! Please!” Luz protested with a nervous smile.

One of the group continued to watch on confused, a strange smile working its way onto his face at the unfamiliar display of affection and sudden laughter.

“What, um…” Hunter spoke up a few moments later. “What is that?”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Gus gasped dramatically, spinning to face Hunter. “Are you serious right now!?”

Hunter blushed a little at the attention as eyes converged on him. “Yeah, I uh, I’ve never seen someone do that before.”

“So you don’t know if you’re ticklish?” Willow asked gently.

“If I’m..? No...” Hunter looked to Luz, who had mostly returned to her normal composure and breathing. “Is it… Fun?”

Luz’s cheeks blossomed with redness at his question and she looked away. The whole group chuckled at that.

“Yes, it’s just a way of playing or bonding with someone. Lots of families or friends do it.” Camila explained, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I bet some of your friends here can help you find out.” She winked.

Everyone was smiling as she stood and announced. “I’m going to go make some popcorn and snacks for the movie, okay mijas?” Then, she made her way to the kitchen.

“Well, what do you think, do you want to try?” Willow asked, grinning at Hunter as she moved in closer on the couch.

Hunter swallowed, looking between her and Gus, who gave him a similar look. “S-Sure.”

Luz smiled at him reassuringly, then scooted out of the way so that Willow and Gus could get closer on either side of him. She turned to Amity, who was watching her with a blush of her own.

“A-Alright. What should I..?” Hunter looked between his two friends. Each got in close on one of his sides.

“Put your arms around us, like a hug!” Willow suggested.

Hunter blushed further, but then did as he was told.

“So.. there’s a few general hotspots that most people are ticklish.” Willow explained as she brought one hand up into view to get Hunter’s attention. “For example.” She brought down a wiggling claw hand, just over the middle of Hunter’s stomach.

Hunter jumped at the contact, a strange, unfamiliar sensation that made him want to shout. He reeled back with a wide grin, tightening his grip on his friend’s shoulders to keep from pulling his arms in. She kept tickling, light but persistent. Hunter couldn’t hold back the giggles long as they formed in his throat. Laughter still felt somewhat foreign on his lips, but this felt almost natural. “Wha-whahat- hehe- what is thihihihis?”

“Looks like you’re ticklish, buddy!” Gus cheered with a grin.

“Here’s another spot a lot of people are ticklish.” Willow pulled away her tickling hand, only to bring it back to poke into Hunter’s ribs. He jumped away from the touch, his body flinching toward Gus. Soon, he was met with a poke from that side as well as the other witch joined in the teasing.

“Ehehehhe it feheheeheels weheheird!” Hunter said through his laughter.

“Good weird? Or bad weird?” Willow asked.

“I-hehehehe I’m not suhuhure yehehhet!” He answered honestly, a little overwhelmed at the potency of the sensation.

“Here’s another spot a lot of people are ticklish.” She wiggled two fingers under his arm and Hunter yelped. His arm tugged back and slammed into Willow’s shoulder where she had him lightly pinned to the couch.

Gus moved his own hand up and started to poke around the other armpit, and Hunter laughed outright.

“Ahahahaha! Wahahaha- not thehehehere!” He gasped, wishing for a moment he could crawl out of his skin to escape the strong, intruding buzz of ticklish sensation.

The two of them stopped. “Sorry, too much?” Willow asked.

“No, just… that was a bad spot, I guess.” Hunter replied. “It’s fine.” Then, he continued, assuring them. “It was kinda.. fun. Is there… other spots people can be ticklish?”

Willow’s smile brightened. “Of course! Let’s try somewhere else. Let us know if it’s too bad a spot again, okay?”

“Okay..” Hunter nodded. “Hey, why are you grabbing my feet, Gus?”

…

Meanwhile, as Luz turned to Amity. “So, you said the twins were pretty bad, huh?”

Amity’s blush grew. She looked at the ceiling. “H-heh, yeah.”

“So I guess that means you’re pret-ty ticklish.”

The blush covered her entire face.

“Don’t worry, I don’t wanna do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Luz leaned in, whispering. “But if you’d be okay with it, I’d love to try it some time.”

Amity giggled in anticipation. “T-That would be fine. I trust you.”

“Like…. Maybe now?” Luz smirked, giving her a playful look.

Amity nodded, already letting out small laughs. And Luz pounced, only to bring one slow, gentle hand down to poke at her twitching tummy.

“Hehehehe- AHH! Heheh!” Amity giggled, shouting out a little laugh at every new poke. Her laughter joined Hunter’s, and Camila smiled as she prepared snacks in the next room.

[melodygatesauthor]

The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 8: A Bird in a Cage

Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader

Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3

Chapter Summary

Khonshu can sense that something is different with you and he's not very pleased.

Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)

Major Tags/Warnings Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence Minor Tags/Warnings NSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!

Word Count: 2.6k

Panic struck moments after you and Marc had returned to your senses. You felt the satisfaction that had washed over you and brought you such peace replaced with fear as you felt the remnants of his cum trickling from your cunt. Quickly, you tucked your hand under yourself and stood, shuffling over to your bathroom to clean yourself.

Nothing could make you regret what you and Marc had done, but you felt stupid for doing it nonetheless. You weren’t ignorant, and it was obvious that there was something special about your blood that made younger vampires, including Marc, a little hungrier than usual, and something that made Khonshu care for you deeper than his other cattle. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to find some way to punish you if he ever found out.

And what about Marc?

If he ever found out that Marc was behind this…

“Here,” Marc handed you his shirt, “to clean yourself. It won’t look weird if my own cum is on my shirt,” he explained with a half-hearted chuckle.

You used the shirt to clean yourself, “you make it sound like that’s a common occurrence.”

Seeing Marc’s cheeks flush was a favorite game of yours, but it admittedly wasn’t hard for you to do anymore.

“Will it be hard to explain the sheets?” He asked, referring to the mess he got on your previously clean bedding.

You handed him back the shirt as you made your way back to the bedroom. Upon further inspection, the part of the bedding that was dirtied was small. You got some warm water on the end of a washcloth and dabbed the stick mess away, hoping it wouldn’t make a stiff spot of fabric in the morning when the maids came to clean it.

“That’s as good as I can get it,” you said with a sigh. You looked back over at Marc whose expression had turned sour as he stood by the window. “What’s wrong?” You asked, walking over to cup his cheek.

“I’m not sure when we can see each other again, like this,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and bringing it down from his cheek to hold by his hip. “Fuck.” He cursed through gritted teeth.

You followed his gaze to your arms where he could see bruising, and you could feel it too now that he pointed it out. Marc had really done a number on you, just like he thought it would.

“Don’t worry, I can make something up, I’ve always been a quick healer anyway” you nodded, “Marc, please don’t worry.”

You could sense the concern in his whole body, in every worried wrinkle on his face, and in his shaking hand that still held onto yours gently. He nodded, a seemingly reluctant nod, but a nod nonetheless, before he kissed your knuckles. With a heavy sigh he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in one more passion-filled embrace before he was gone through the window, as if he’d never been there at all.

~~~~

In the morning you examined your arms to see, and feel, that your skin had returned to normal as though you’d never been touched. A sense of relief washed over you as the housemaids came and started getting you dressed and taking care of the bedding. It looked like your quick job cleaning up the mess had worked, and unless they carried blacklights around with them, no one would suspect a thing.

You took advantage of the fact that Khonshu let you walk around Ammit’s guest house unattended. He’d told you that even if you tried to escape, which he was certain you wouldn’t, it was far too cold in the mountains for you to get very far anyway. Whether that was true or not didn't matter. As long as Marc remained under Khonshu’s control, so would you. 

When Khonshu’s hunger demanded your attention, he would find you in the library, sitting in a comfortable recliner with a romance novel you’d never heard of before in your hands. His face was pleasant when you looked up from the pages to meet his gaze. For a moment you thought he might be upset, you’d almost forgotten that you weren’t supposed to look at him, but when he didn’t reprimand you, you decided to keep eye contact, not wanting to draw attention to it.

“My little dove, are you enjoying your freedom?”

You gulped, nodding obediently, though you weren’t sure you would consider this freedom. Khonshu seemed pleased with himself, nodding with a lighthearted smirk to match. He held out a hand to you and helped you stand.

“Hm,” he hummed, lips turning downward slightly in what appeared to be disappointment.

He leaned in, nose brushing against your neck and forcing a chill to run through your veins. Your breath hitched, catching in your lungs. You dropped your book on the floor as he pulled you tighter against him. A low growl rumbled up through his body, his breath was hot against your skin.

“S-sir–”

“Have I neglected you for too long, little dove?” He asked, words muffled against your neck. “Is that why you betrayed me?” You whimpered when he pulled you closer, his grip squeezing around you so tight you worried he might crush your bones.

He knew.

He knew.

Your entire body was shaking against his in terror. Was this it? Was this the end for you? You wondered for a moment how quick your death would be. Was Khonshu going to drain you to death? Or would he go with a quicker approach and just behead you, keeping it simple and easy. If you were being honest, you hoped for the latter.

“B-betrayed you, s-sir?” You couldn’t seem to get a grip on your shaking body and your quivering bottom lip.

He leaned back and looked you in the eye, “you have a very distinct smell, don’t you sweet one? Surely you know that, enough of us have mentioned it.” He was smiling at you, but there was a clear hint of anger behind the facade. “You’re a very special girl.”

You nodded, knowing that what he’d said was true. You may have been a bit naive, you’d admit as much, but you knew that something was very obviously different about you in comparison to the other livestock that both Khonshu and Ammit had in their service.

“Sir please,” you grunted, trying to pull away, but his arms kept you in place.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he cooed, walking you back until your rear was against a window sill. “I could pick you out of a crowd of a million people while blindfolded based on your scent alone, which is why I know that something is different.”

You didn’t think that the simple act of sex would change something inside of you so profoundly that the smell of your blood would be different. You could’ve cleaned up every bit of mess, and hidden every blemish, and Khonshu would’ve still been able to tell something was wrong. How could you have been so foolish to think this would get past him?

You thought quickly, “w-well, sir, we’re in a different house.” Your eyes scanned his to determine how much of your bullshit he was buying. “I’ve been bathed in different perfumes and–”

He wasn’t buying any of it.

He harshly tossed the fabric in front of your cunt aside, bringing his hips against your own so you could feel his bulge beneath his clothes. You shuttered, once again feeling grateful that Khonshu hadn’t forced himself on you, but it would seem your luck had run out.

He was fast to tug his pants around his thighs, allowing his thick cock to spring free and rest against your pussy lips. It felt warm, the head leaking a slow, sticky stream onto your abdomen. He stared at you, eyes appearing to darken like a hungry predator. If you were a dove, then Khonshu was a falcon.

“I’ve been so kind to you, haven’t I?” He asked, rolling his hips back so the tip rested at your entrance. “Who was it, hm?”

To punctuate his sentence, he thrust forward, the entire length of his cock bottoming out inside your barely slick channel. You lurched, a choked screech muffled against his shoulder as you held onto him tight. A dark snicker left his lips, a clear sign he was enjoying whatever pain he was causing.

“Was it one of Ammit’s servants? Did a lonely concubine find its way into your room while I wasn’t paying attention?” He started moving faster, the stretch of his cock aching as you clench around him.

You shook your head, “n-no sir, no, please–”

A sharp pain in your neck made your body jolt. He started drinking from you, his deep moans filling the library, which suddenly felt very small. You groaned, hoping that soon you would start to feel the ache between your legs subside, that maybe some pleasure could be found in this unwanted encounter.

“Then was it one of mine?” His hips bucked roughly, the window behind you rattling against its frame. “Was-it-Marc?”

Once again you replied, “no, no!”

You became lightheaded the more he drank, but the more he drank, the less pain you started to feel. Time seemed to slow a bit, the edges of your vision darkened. He muttered something against your throat about how wet you were, how nice your pussy felt around his cock, and how he wished he hadn’t waited so long.

“M’sorry sir, I didn’t…” 

What were you going to say? You didn’t do it on purpose? Because you did. That you didn’t know it would be that big of a deal? Because you did know. Did you really think you could tell him with confidence that you didn’t fuck another vampire without his permission right under his nose? Because you couldn’t.

“Shh,” He whispered, breath coming out in uneven, short huffs. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but when I-fuck, when I find out who touched you…”

The remainder of his sentence was swallowed by a deep moan rolling through his chest. You sucked in a breath, feeling him bite you again as his orgasm ripped through him. His hips stuttered forward, body trembling while he pulled you close against his body. You felt a tear trickle down your cheek. In a strange way you felt like you were betraying Marc, even though Khonshu was the one who’d been betrayed to start with.

You deserved this. You belonged to Khonshu, and you should’ve known better.

“My sweet, precious little dove,” he whispered against your neck, keeping his face pressed to your bloodstained skin. He kissed your throat softly. “I know you won’t do this to me again, I know you won’t betray me again.”

You didn’t move as he pulled out of you, his cum spilling out with him and trickling down your inner thighs. He looked at you as he pulled his pants back up around his hips. The man looked like a feral beast for the first time since you’d known him, lips so covered in your blood that you wondered how you were still breathing. Adrenaline? Fear? A nausea inducing combination of both?

“I have plans for you,” Khonshu said finally, after letting the silence linger for far too long,”plans that you cannot know of just yet.”

You nodded, damning your bottom lip for quivering and making you appear weak.

He grabbed the hem of your dress and used it to wipe the blood from his face, staring at the stain when he pulled it back. He sniffed out a laugh, eyes looking crazed with anger when he looked at you once more.

“When I find out which vampire fucked you, sweet one, and I do have my suspicions” he dropped your dress and leaned into you closer, “I’m going to kill them in the most painful way I can.”

“Sir, I didn’t–”

“SILENCE!” 

You jumped, your entire body going into shock and starting to shake beyond your control.

“I’ve lived over three millennia. Do you take me for a fool?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re very lucky that you’re so precious to me, little dove, or I’d push you through this window and spit on your corpse.”

You believed his every word, so you nodded again in understanding. He looked down at your abdomen and back into your eyes once more. An expression of disgust sported his normally stoic face.

“To your room with you. You’re not to leave until we are returning home. Your meals will be delivered to your room and no one besides your servants or myself are allowed in or out, are we clear?”

One more time you nodded, mind stuck in a daze as he departed, leaving you bloody and used on the window sill of the library.

~~~~

Khonshu’s rules were clear: no one was allowed in or out of your room while you remained in Ammit’s home.

Did that include your hostess herself? Would Khonshu be upset if he knew that Ammit stole into your room in the night while the house slept?

She had swooped in through your window so gracefully, unlike Marc who was quite noisy at times. You were still awake though, unable to sleep when you couldn’t stop seeing Khonshu’s bloody face racing through your mind. She walked so effortlessly it was as though her body carried no mass. Ammit had a way of commanding attention without saying a word. Her silence was louder than any sound she could make.

“Hello, sweet one,” she cooed, striding around the room slowly. “I heard your master will not allow you to leave. Khonshu always was the jealous type.”

She seemed amused to have you there, dangling the fact that she knew things you couldn’t possibly have known in front of you like a carrot on a string. You would play her game though, sensing your choices were limited anyhow.

“That’s true.”

You kept your eyes on her.

“When you get back to your home, you know that he will not allow you any freedom don’t you? Well,” she laughed when she realized her poor wording, “he will give you much less freedom than you have now.”

“Have you come to torment me further? Did he send you to–”

“Quiet, girl.” Her tone was firm. “I don’t do Khonshu’s bidding.” She stopped pacing and stood at the foot of your bed, staring directly at you. “You are new to all of this, so take this as my only warning.”

Your breath felt like it stopped in your lungs as you waited for her to speak. 

“Khonshu and I have been at war with one another for a very, very long time,” she started, eyes never wavering from yours. “Though we may appear amicable now, it’s doubtful that things will remain this way. We’ve always had our ups and downs.” She let out a heavy sigh. “When Khonshu and I find ourselves at odds once more, you’ll have an opportunity to change your fate. If you’re smart you’ll seize it, and you’ll remember what I told you in the bath.”

She was gone just as quickly as she’d arrived, in a blur, and in silence, leaving you with nothing other than your heart pounding in your chest, and your head filled with more thoughts than you could sort through.

If Ammit and Khonshu were at war and planned to fight, then you weren’t even sure you wanted to choose a side. You needed to tell Marc. You needed to escape.

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[violet-lazer]

Reciprocity

Content / Warnings : Secondo/Reader, Explicit, Gender-Neutral Reader, Oral Sex, Birthday Smut, Soft-ish Secondo, 4.8k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

Secondo discovers it's your birthday, and is more displeased than he expects that you haven't told him. For my lovely friend @ghoulymadge 🥀

Secondo notices. It’s the instinct, the knack, the guiding hand of Lucifer on his shoulder. It’s his talent for seeing which eyes in the crowd are most desperate for his to meet them, which Siblings give him a wide berth in the corridor, which abysmal move Copia is about to play during card games. And today, Secondo noticed that the leftmost side of the third pew was vacant at his afternoon sermon. Unusual.

In the hour or so since his sermon concluded, Secondo has been stalking the corridors, contemplative. It’s certainly not that he’s looking for someone. It’s not that he’s looking for you. It’s simply that it’s exceedingly uncommon for him not to spy you in that third pew, rosary draped over your fingers, listening in-- well, if it wasn’t rapture it was certainly a very good imitation. You are always first on your knees to accept communion. You always meet his gaze.

Presently, Secondo’s contemplation sees him circling back to the chapel in time for Terzo’s Mass to conclude. Settling against a pillar, he watches as the congregation begin to file out, accepting their scattered greetings with a polite nod. He waits for the crowd to thin and strides into the chapel proper.

There are a few Siblings lingering by the chancel, some tidying, some chatting, one tending to what appears to be a rather large red wine stain on the floor. Secondo sighs. From the altar, Terzo raises an eyebrow.

“Oh. What do you want?”

“You have been working on your manners, I see.”

Terzo shrugs. “I aim to please. Since we are in polite company-” he gestures loosely at the remaining Siblings- “let me start again. What can I do for you on this fine afternoon?”

Secondo relents. “I am…looking for someone. Someone who usually only attends my sermons. I thought, perhaps, something may have happened to their standards, and was concerned that I might find them here.”

“Biting,” Terzo says. “Very good. I see, you are upset that your favourite has abandoned you today.”

Secondo folds his arms. “I do not have favourites.” “Then why do I know precisely who you are talking about, hm?” Terzo scoffs, gathering some papers from the altar and handing them to a waiting Sibling. “I saw the two of you talking the other night and could have sworn I heard you ask them a personal question. Unprecedented.”

It’s not that Secondo doesn’t have admirers. Lovers. Comes with the job, the title. It’s just that, as the years go on, he’s becoming tired of deciphering intent.

He has a reputation. All of the Papas do. It’s that shared folklore of the clergy, woven into lore by threads of shared conversations, retellings of sexual encounters, speculation into their personal lives. Ask a Sibling? Secondo was… brusque. Direct. Uncompromising. Difficult to get to know. And people love a challenge.

Usually, it’s obvious and telegraphed; the Siblings who approach him like a puzzle. The attempts to sidle up to him in the library, probe him with questions, to earn an invite into his bed. At this point it’s almost amusing, and Secondo is normally content to entertain them for the night, sending them home well-fucked and pleased with themselves. Good for them if they think they know the first thing about him afterwards. 

But, you know, it’s wearing a little thin. There’s a fine line between casual for casual’s sake and casual to avoid disappointment. Secondo is familiar with disappointment, he carries it around with him in a deep, bone-aching weariness, and has no desire to add more weight. 

Last week, you’d turned to leave after one of your post-Mass conversations and he’d almost followed you. It had startled him, a frown settling onto his face as he watched you go. Ask him, and he wouldn’t say you were close- you speak a few times a week, post-sermon, or when you see one another in the halls. It’s been a few months of this, since you devoted yourself to his sermons- I think you might be the one, Papa- and as reticent as he is, Secondo…enjoys you. He allows you to linger after Mass where he encourages others to go about their day, he packs his things more slowly when you do stay so he might entertain your questions. Your enquiries about his personal time don’t seem transactional, and to his retrospective regret, his tongue is looser when it’s you doing the asking. But, he thinks, perhaps that’s as far as it should go. After all, isn’t it better not to want, truly want something? Aren’t you hoisting yourself for a fall?

The Sibling attending to the spilled wine raises their head, and Secondo notes that this is definitely a situation where attempted cleanup merely spreads the problem around. 

“I know who you’re on about,” they say, abandoning their sponge. “They’ve booked the day off. It’s their birthday.”

“Ah,” Secondo says. This feels like pertinent information. Should he know that? There’s a tug in his chest that tells him he should. Had you told him? No. He would’ve remembered. Why hadn’t you told him?

Terzo shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Ooh, that’s terrible. You should’ve known that.”

“I did.”

It’s too early in the day for such an obvious lie, but Secondo’s priorities have taken a sharp turn to the left. He utters a quick thanks to the Sibling then turns on his heel, marching out of the chapel and through the winding corridors of the Ministry.

He knows the living quarters well. To clarify, he knows the exact position of the handle on the oak bedroom doors when reaching for it in the dark with someone pressed eagerly against him, and he knows how many steps it is from threshold to bed. It’s been others, but it’s not been you.

Once, he thinks, striding down the hallway towards your room, once it might’ve been you. One harsh night last month you’d crossed paths in the corridor - cold tonight isn’t it, Papa? - and he’d dropped into conversation so readily he’d ended up following you to the living quarters. You converse with an ease that almost circles to instil unease in him, it’s so unfamiliar. For Lucifer’s sake, he’d told you about his bath. A single comment from you about the chill, and the sight of you wrapping your arms around yourself to retain heat, and he’d told you about his bath. Information that he does not divulge readily, but there it was, one more confession you’d pulled out of him with obscene simplicity. There’s a very nice bathroom in Secondo’s quarters, and he’s managed to keep it quiet. It’s not the perfectly serviceable ensuite he directs any nocturnal guests or visitors to, it’s the box room he had refitted on the sly when most of the senior clergy were at an awful team-building weekend a few years ago. And he…told you about it. There, outside your room, watching you shiver.

You’d laughed at the revelation, joked about him inviting you over to take a bath. So bold, but isn’t that what jokes are for? Testing the waters? Secondo had stopped to let his eyes rove over you, to let his mind wander, to imagine the two of you in his most sacred of places; wet, naked, him fucking you over the bathroom counter. And then, despite himself, he bade you goodnight. 

Anyway. Secondo knows exactly which door to stop in front of. He gives a sharp knock, and waits for a response. And waits. And- well, he’s waited a respectable twenty-five seconds. Perhaps you’re out. Or perhaps something is wrong?

The thought has barely crossed his mind and his gloved hand is reaching for the door handle. Immediately he catches himself- come on. The Ministry is usually safe, as long as you don’t inadvertently stumble into the path of whatever nonsense the ghouls have going on at any given time. You were fine. Probably. Hm. 

It’s a…persistent thought, and it’s gnawing at the back of Secondo’s brain. You haven’t answered the door and it’s been, what, a full minute and a half? He should wait. Or knock again, perhaps. He definitely shouldn’t try the door.

He tries the door. It’s unlocked, and easing it open, Secondo lets himself in. He steps into the room- slightly messy, lived-in, but nothing sets off any alarm bells. It’s dim in here, a lone crack in your curtains allowing a thin stream of afternoon sunlight through and as his gaze pans over to your bed- ah- there you are. Taking a few steps closer, he can see you half-entangled in a thin blanket, curled onto your side, and the steady rise and fall of your chest indicates you’re sound asleep. Hm. Not dead then. Well. At least you’re safe.

And then you stir, spot Secondo towering over you, and bolt upright.

“Fucking hell-”

Now. Objectively, the optics on this one aren’t great. Secondo takes a step back.

“I am incredibly sorry,” he says. “I was worried.”

The words fall from his lips too quickly, too honestly. 

“Oh,” you say, doing an impressive job of regulating your breathing. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m up, I was just…napping.”

He regards you- flushed, separating yourself from your blanket, straightening your clothes. You look up at him in earnest. It is a good angle. Seeing you like this, sleepy and dishevelled, in your room amongst all your personal things, he almost feels like he’s crossed a boundary. Secondo clears his throat.

“It is your birthday. You did not tell me,” Secondo says plainly. It isn’t an accusation, but there’s a bite that causes you to lower your eyes from his. There’s something in him that feels…entitled to that information, as unfair as that may be. It isn’t particularly sensitive information. Your friends would know. Acquaintances, even. Has he misread your attention, placed more weight on your interactions than he should have? Set himself up, once more?

No, it’s not your fault. He could have asked. Taking a breath, he tempers his tone.

“To clarify, you did not have to tell me,” he says. “However, I would have liked to have known.”

“To be honest, Papa,” you say, dragging your eyes back up to meet his, “I’m not really in the habit of celebrating my birthday. It’s… I don’t…”

“There does not have to be a reason.”

You give him a small, grateful smile.  “Anyway,” you continue, “I didn’t see the point of bringing it up, really. I doubt you’d want to spend the day with me, you’re a busy man.”

Slowly, he steps forwards and takes a seat on the edge of your bed. At once, you manoeuvre yourself closer to him. Instinct. The sight lights a fire in the pit of his stomach.

“Busy indeed. And yet, here I am.”

Slotted neatly and deliberately alongside several particularly dry-looking Luciferian texts on Secondo’s bookshelf, there is a list handwritten on good, weighty paper. It’s Secondo’s gift list. Secondo is a good gift-giver, deriving no end of pleasure from lavishing gifts on those who have earned it. Now, it is a relatively short list- a few friends from his past, senior clergy (mostly out of pure obligation), Siblings who made a particular impression, Terzo’s name crossed out and rewritten multiple times with varying degrees of vitriol. And there at the bottom is your name in neat, thoughtful cursive. If he’d known…

“Why are you here, Papa?”

Your voice snaps him back to the present. You’re leaning forwards, towards him. Meeting his eyes, the way he likes.

This is the dance, isn’t it? The precipice? The leading question leading to his mouth on yours? He wants to dance with you. But he has to ensure you’re a willing partner.

“I want to do something for you,” he says, reaching out with one gloved hand to ghost your cheek with his fingers. You lean into his touch. Good. “A gift.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” you say. 

“I want to do something for you,” he reiterates. “I can scarcely believe I am saying this, but I will permit you to use my bath.”

“Oh,” you say, eyes widening. “I was joking the other week, I didn’t actually expect- but yes, that would be lovely.”

Secondo lets his fingers trail downwards, tracing your jaw gently. If not for his gloves he’d be able to feel the warmth of you.

“On my terms,” he continues. “I am going to be very direct with you, so listen.”

“I’m listening, Papa.”

So attentive.

“In one hour, you are going to come to my quarters. You are going to knock. If you knock twice, I will let you in, and then I will leave you to the bath I have drawn for you. Take your time. But not too much time, hm? I will give you two hours, and then I want my bathroom back, yes?” You nod your assent. He fixes you with a firm, deliberate gaze.

“Now. Pay attention. If you knock three times, I will let you in, I will bathe you, and then I am going to fuck you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, half-breathless. You’ve been waiting, haven’t you? Secondo can feel it, the change in the air that accompanies the sprawl of new possibilities running through your mind.

“Think about it,” he says. “One hour.”

Swiftly, he stands, gives you a curt nod and turns to leave.

“Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to you, despite feeling the sting of an impactful exit cut short.

“Hm?”

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you confess.

Ah. There it is, the consequence of his reluctance to spoil a good thing. Or, more accurately, his idea of a good thing, and the terrifying thought that the reality might be very different. So yes, if he’s honest, he’s been ignoring your glances and missing opportunities to invite you to bed. But there’s only so long the inevitable can be delayed. There’s a thrum inside him when you’re within arm's reach that’s impossible to resist and, well, when Lucifer gives you a hint you should take it.

“No.” Secondo reaches down, thumb brushing your lip. He wants his fingers in your mouth. “I am interested. Perhaps too much.”

And then he leaves you.

You’re about three minutes early. Secondo heard your approach, deliberate steps on the stone floor, and then…silence. He supposes you’re waiting for the hour to be up proper, lest you look too…eager? That is, assuming, you would be taking him up on his offer of some personal attention. Now, he’s ready for you to take the solitary option, if that’s what you want. It’s fine. It’s alright. There’s certainly no pang that cuts through his chest when he thinks about the possibility of you not reciprocating his desire. Although, he thinks, taking stock of himself in the mirror, it would be a bit of a waste.

He’s shed his robe in lieu of a fitted black-button down shirt, sleeves half-rolled. Black trousers and dress shoes. Unassuming, timeless. But he’s touched up his paint; it’s the face he knows you like. Not too bad for an old man. He glances at the clock- ah. It’s time. He watches the door, waiting for you to announce yourself.

You knock. Once. Twice. And then again. Secondo opens the door. The nerves emanating from you are palpable but, regardless, you give him a smile and Secondo can feel his heart beating in his throat. You’re matching him in black, and he can’t help but let his eyes wander over you, searching, looking for points of access. But before that-

“Come with me,” he says, holding out his hand, sparing you the agony of filling the silence. You slip your hand into his and he leads you into the room, towards the bathroom, noting your gaze roaming to take in your surroundings before your eyes settle on the bed. Later. Secondo pulls you gently through the next doorway and into his bathroom. The secret one.

It’s a nice bathroom, if he says so himself. All Italian marble and gold furnishings, but in a way that he tells himself is on the right side of the tasteful/tacky border. There are a few plants, gifts from Primo, that he’s doing his best to keep alive, and in the centre of the room, the star of the show, an excessively large marble bathtub. Prior to your arrival, he’d spent a good forty minutes here, setting the scene, because if Secondo is anything, he is a good host. And when he commits, he commits. So you arrive to find the room lit by candlelight, bath full and waiting for you, a tiny wireless radio tuned to a station playing soft instrumentals. It’s worth the effort- when you look at him, half-awestruck, he realises he’s been holding his breath. Tightening his grip on your hand, he leads you further into the room.

“I can see why you want to keep this to yourself,” you say, running your fingers along the edge of the bath. Secondo hums.

“You understand. I do not wish for this to become common knowledge, yes? Let it be our secret.”

“Of course,” you say. There’s a pause, and you appear to be at a bit of a loss at what to say next. Secondo is happy to lead.

“Do you wish to begin?”

“Yes,” you say, leaning against the edge of the bath. “What should I…”

“Undress for me,” he says, low and steady.

You nod, setting to work on your buttons, lowering your gaze. You work slowly, and after a moment, pause.

“Sorry, I’m a bit self-conscious,” you confess. Secondo closes the distance between you, tipping your jaw up with one hand so you meet his eyes.

“I do not want you to be uncomfortable. May I help?”

“Yes.”

Gently, his hands run down your shoulders, your arms, before he locates the fastenings of your clothes and works them undone. He strips you with practised ease, touching you only enough to help you shed your garments, his face serious, focused. When he catches your eye you’re regarding him with a quiet bemusement. He’s seen it before. You’re wondering why he’s not fondling you, kissing you. But Secondo has his rituals. His rules. If he touches you now you’ll never make it to the bath and all of his preparation will be for naught. He helps you shift your underwear down your legs. Satanas-

There you are, gorgeous and exposed, every inch, for him. Secondo’s cock aches against his trousers and the simmer of desire in the pit of his stomach is threatening to overspill. You reach out to touch his cheek, fingers grazing his skin.

Actually, fuck the rituals. Slipping his arms around your waist, he pulls you to his chest and kisses you. You sink into him, mouth opening to accept his tongue, soft moan escaping you. He feels your hands meet at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Even through his clothes he can feel your heat, your want, and he kisses you hungrily, tongue moving against yours in lascivious rhythm.  

When he’s sated, he pulls back. You’re flushed, breaths heavy, pressed so tightly against him his cock must surely be digging uncomfortably into you. Well, you don’t seem to be complaining. Secondo allows himself to press another kiss to your lips.

“You are quite the distraction,” he says, taking your hand. “Now get in the bath.”

Biting your lip and doing a poor job of disguising your smile, you let him help you into the bath. As you relax into the water, you let out a deep sigh, allowing your head to rest back against the marble. Secondo can’t take his eyes off you, and is doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact. He is content for now, perched at the edge of the bath, watching you unwind. After a few moments, you lift your head and eye him suspiciously.

“Yes?” he says.

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

Secondo clears his throat. “Ah. I made some enquiries as to your location. One of Terzo’s hangers-on informed me.”

You laugh. “I’ll tell them you said that.”

Secondo wonders if you’ve noticed you’ve dropped the Papa. It doesn’t feel like a purposeful omission, more an indication of…comfort. He doesn’t mind a slip in decorum, not here. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“I feel,” you continue- you’re talkative like this- “as though you should also be… not dressed.”

Secondo cocks his head. “Impatient. You will see more than enough of me soon enough. Although…” 

Slowly, under your watchful eye, he makes a show of removing one glove, and then the other. He rests them on the edge of the bath, and reaches for the washcloth and soap he’s set out. It’s a fancy soap Terzo had foisted upon him- with no regard to the fact that he wasn’t a florals person- but Secondo thinks it might be rather pleasing on you.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, shifting to kneel at your side.

You lean up to meet him and he bathes you, thoroughly, tenderly. Again, he’s restraining himself, tempering his desire as he runs his hands over you. He allows himself small pleasures- a kiss pressed to your hand, your shoulder, the inside of your ankle as you manoeuvre to grant him access to your legs. He’s working methodically, but his pace slows as he approaches your inner thighs. There was nothing wrong with lingering there, yes? Your breaths are sharper, anticipant, but he’s not going to touch you where you want to be touched. Not yet. He pulls back and you can’t hide the frustrated grunt that escapes you. Secondo bites down a smile.

“Are you sated?” he says. No, is the answer he wants. You tilt your head.

“In the bath way, yes.”

He looks at you for a long moment. “I see. Then let me attend to your other needs.”

Secondo extends a hand and you waste no time in taking it. Pulling you up, he reaches for a towel and helps you dry off. Without a moment of consideration, he fetches his bathrobe from a hanger and offers it to you. You raise an eyebrow. It’s a nice robe. Stepping out of the bath, you shrug it on and Secondo reaches around you wordlessly to tie the belt.

“This feels more even, hm?” he says. “You are not so exposed?”

“Mm,” you hum, giving him a gentle smile. It’s a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing more often. But- to business. Leading you to the bedroom, he encourages you to take a seat on the edge of his bed, positioning himself next to you.

“Before we begin, let us set some expectations, yes? I want you to enjoy yourself. I also want to fuck every last drop of need out of you, and I want to do it with great enthusiasm. So if you are uncomfortable with anything I am doing you must tell me, and I will stop. Alright?”

You nod. “I will. I would.”

“Good. I enjoy taking the lead. Are you content with that?”

He’s studying you for any signs of hesitation, but he’s finding nothing. Just you, so torturously close and leaning closer, looking especially fuckable in his bathrobe (it’s monogrammed), hanging onto his every word.

“I want you to tell me what to do,” you say plainly. “And I want you to use me however you wish.”

Well. If that wasn’t what he dreamed of hearing. You’re going to be so good for him. Secondo takes your face in his hands, drawing you close.

“Very well. Then permit me to be selfish. I was denied the privilege of seeing you on your knees today.”

Obediently, you slip from the bed and settle on your knees before Secondo. Your hands run up his thighs and his cock twitches. This is the view.

“Watch. Do not touch,” he says, languidly unbuckling his belt and shifting his trousers down to unsheath himself. You’re so close that his cock, slick with precum, grazes your cheek. You’re watching him with a quiet desperation, but you remain still.  

“Open your mouth,” he says, gripping the base of his shaft to guide it towards you as you obey. He locks eyes with you. And then he pushes his cock into your mouth.

You’re devout at his altar, accepting him as far down your throat as you can manage, lips tight around him. He groans, bucking up into you, your hot, wet mouth sending his desire into the stratosphere. You look so good sucking him off, making the most obscene sounds as you fuck him with your mouth. Pulling back, you grasp his shaft and begin to work him manually, tongue painting eager strokes along his cock. Fucking hell, you have been waiting for this. You’re so impatient, so obedient, you’re taking more of him than you can handle, tears pricking at your eyes, fuck, you’re so good, so-

He pulls out of your mouth and you whine at the loss of him, breathless, face thoroughly fucked.

“Forgive me,” Secondo says, catching his breath. “I want you to come first.”

Taking your hands, he stands, pulling you up onto your feet. Swiftly, his fingers untie the bathrobe and he pushes it from your shoulders, laying you bare once again before him. He kisses a trail down your exposed neck, sighing deeply when he comes to rest at your collarbone.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, drawing back to look you in the eyes.

“Please,” you say, voice tinged with need.

“On the bed,” he says, and you scramble onto the bed, watching him as he steps out of his trousers and lowers himself over you, bracing himself on his forearms. Secondo kisses you again. It’s deeper than he’d usually permit, needy, insistent. You wrap your legs around him and he can feel your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt; he gladly helps you discard it. Finally, there’s nothing between you, his chest pressed against yours; Secondo swears he can feel your heartbeat but it may be his own hammering in his chest. He’s aching to be inside you. He needs friction. His cock is leaking precum onto your belly.

Secondo draws back onto his knees, hands spreading your legs, sliding down your thighs. With one hand he slicks his fingers with his own precum, and then guides them to your entrance, pressing against the flesh. You stifle a moan. Hmm, that won’t do. Gently, he pushes a finger into you, eliciting a desperate groan. That’s more like it. Once he’s satisfied you can take it, he adds another finger, working you open, warming you up. You’re a mess underneath him, swearing, rutting up into his fingers. “Please,” you manage. Well, since you asked so nicely. You’ve waited long enough.

Cock in hand, Secondo steadies your legs and slowly, deliberately, presses into you.

“Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting the pillow. Fuck, indeed. You’re so tight around him, such a good, eager hole. At first, he fucks into you lazily, hips rolling against yours in measured, practiced rhythm, but Lucifer he’s been wating for this for so long and you’re squeezing his cock so perfectly and soon he’s taking you, right to the hilt in messy, animalistic strokes. His fingers are digging into your thighs and you’re an absolute state underneath him, hands twisting into the duvet as Secondo fucks you senseless.

“Touch yourself,” he growls. You nod weakly, begin to work yourself. It’s not going to take much, you’re twitching around him already. He’s going to ruin you. He tries to settle into a more regular tempo, but he can’t hold it for long.

“I’m going to come,” you say, breathless.

“Come for me,” he orders, cock pulsing, desperate for release. It’s a good thing you’re close because there’s no chance he’ll last. 

“Papa-” and then he feels you tighten around him, gasping as you come, breath ragged. He fucks you through your orgasm before chasing his own release, hips snapping hard against yours as he finishes inside you, pumps you full.

Shakily, he withdraws from you, and sinks down next to you on the bed. He takes your hand and places it on his chest so you can feel his heart thundering. 

“Should I go?” you say quietly. 

Secondo lifts his head. You’ve heard the routine, then. That he gently encourages his lovers not to get too comfortable after the act. That you shouldn’t expect to stay until morning. And you came anyway. He lets his head drop onto your shoulder.

“No,” he says. “Stay.” “Hmm,” he hears you muse. “Does that mean you’re going to fuck me again? It is my birthday.”

He lifts his head, propping himself up on his side to look at you. It’s not such a bad sight, you tangled in his sheets. He wouldn’t mind making a habit of it. And if he’s setting himself up for a fall, well. Perhaps some things are worth falling for.

[fuck-i-like-too-much-stuff]

PART THREE TO MY NOT-SO-SMALL-ANYORE ADDITION TO THE PROFESSOR PEEM AND PROFESSOR Q TAG

Part one and two:

Ao3:

.

.

.

The airport is three hours away from the university, the flight is one hour away from the airport and Peem is about to bring earthquakes with how much his knees are bouncing up and down under the table.

“Hia, are you okay?” 

“What?” Peem, having grown too accustomed to only being called Professor Peem these days, startles on catching sight of Toey in the staffroom.

“I asked if you're okay.”

Before he could answer, a group of his students accumulated at the door, seeking permission to enter.

“Come in, you guys. Are you here for submissions?” 

They don't answer, feet dug into the floor and eyes trained onto Toey. 

“Guys, I get that you're all fine arts students and must observe the world and what not. But the staring is getting out of hand these days with you lot.”

Again, no answer. This time, however their feet move backwards and take them on the same path they had arrived from. 

“What was that all about?” Toey's eyebrows move towards each other and Peem almost laughs at the proof that he is not the only one who sees his students acting weird. 

“Hell if I know. They've been this way for four weeks now and I still can not fathom why.”

“And what's going on with you? Jae Fai and Hia Fang told me you haven't been taking care of yourself.”

“I'm fine, Toey. He's coming back today. And I'm fine.”

“Alright. Then I'll go prepare for my lecture.”

.

.

.

Peem had been grateful to not have any lectures today. Peem had been grateful to be in the staffroom and do personal consultings for an hour and then proceed to do the gradings Q unloaded on him, after complaining about how not a single one of them was in sequence. Till an hour back, that was.

Peem was now contemplating his life choices of putting the gallery on autopilot to become a professor. A professor, who is either being pitied or hated by the first years, because if Q hadn't asked him to rearrange the assignments, he wouldn't have had anything to do. Hell, even Toey has more work to do than him and he gives two guest lectures a year which are both just additional guides.

He can't be hated, right? He did pretty well the first two years. This is actually just Phum's business trips taking a toll on him. Yes, that's it. He will be back to his normal, not nauseated and not puffy eyed self in just a couple more hours.

Couple more hours, that's doable.

“Professor Peem?” He realizes his eyes have been shut closed for the past ten minutes. 

“Yeah?” He looks up to find the teacher's aid peeking through the door.

“Professor Q is asking for you. Could you please go to lecture hall C.”

The hallways he walks through fall into a gradient of heavier and heavier silence as he nears lecture hall C. 

“Prof Q?” he asks, leaning into the deadly silent class. 

“Professor Peem. Yes, please come in.” While Peem can't ever digest his best friend of twenty years talking to him with this much respect, in their professional environment he has learned not to trip over his feet because of it.

“You mentioned that our students have been behaving somewhat weird these past weeks, right?”

“Yeah… what's going on?”

“Let's hear what one of them has just said. Right, Wai?”

Peem turns to find Wai amongst the students, everyone does the same and eyes converge on the boy sitting with a look that could compete with ghosts and win.

“Professor, I'm- we are so sorry. We didn't know- we didn't understand, or actually even try to understand anything. We're so sorry.”

“Okay I'm fed up of asking what's going on, it's the only question I've been asking for four weeks now. So will someone please tell me what on earth is going on?” The irritation in Peem's voice cracks through his throat and for the first time in four weeks, he is not getting a single eye contact from his audience.

“Remember the theme sequence they all messed up and I asked you to help with correcting it? I mentioned it in class today and it turns out it wasn't a mistake or a misread instruction.” Q's voice feels as if it was dipped in melted metal.

“They've been convinced that you and I were dating, that I cheated on you with Toey and left you to go with him to Europe.”

If Peem was nauseated before, he does not know how to describe the current pit in his stomach. “Is this what- is this what the looks, all those pity filled looks, were about? You all thought, not that it was any of your business, that Q cheated on me.”

“Who cheated on who now?” A voice pierces through the suspended tension of the room and Peem truly does not believe in the ground anymore. There standing in the doorway is his boyfriend, who did not cheat on him in the very least, with a bouquet of roses. His boyfriend, for who's presence his entire being had been aching for two whole months now. His boyfriend, who looks much more confused than Peem is himself.

.

.

.

 “How was this any of their business in the first place? We were never once interested  in Prof Po's love life.” Q has been fuming for the course of the past forty five minutes in which they have managed to cancel class for the rest of the day, and leave.

“And to be honest, we didn't even care about it. It's a professional relationship.”  

Q and Toey's apartment is just a seven minute drive from the Uni, making it extremely convenient for Peem to crash on a comfortable sofa right after a long day Although right now, its a comfortable sofa in addition to his boyfriend's side, and arm and hands and scent and existence.

He knows and agrees with Q with his whole heart, and he knows so do Toey and Phum. However there is only so much agreement one can do in his state. He nods off to sleep, the first deep sleep after weeks.

The next thing he recalls is waking up the door closing on the opposite side of the car, watching Phum make his way to his side and open the door for him.

“I told you, I can open the door for myself.”

“I know you can. I, as a gentleman, just don't feel like letting you.”

“And you do, as a gentleman, feel like letting me walk all the way to the front door and then through the hall and to the bedroom-” assuming his mumbles aren't coherent enough to make it to Phum's ears, he tries to climb out of the car. 

His feet don't touch the ground, Phum is carrying him up to the front door and through the hallways and to the bedroom and not once did Peem's feet come near touching the ground.

“You didn't have to do that. I was only joking.”

“I don't mind an excuse to carry my boyfriend around- just as I don't need an excuse to sit on his lap.”

Maybe there is more agreement Peem can do in his state.

[deepspacedukat]

Love Stings

Normally when I post request fics, I reply directly to the ask I was sent, but in this case I was sent a dm by the requester, and they wanted to remain anonymous at the time. So here’s to you, friend! I hope you enjoy this and that it fits your idea! I hope it’s alright! Hell, I don’t even know if you’re going to see this, but here’s hoping. This got super long! It’s over 8500 words. Enjoy!

If you want to be added to or removed from my fic taglist, please let me know!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Senator Letant (DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Romulan sex, fuck or die situation, away mission gone wrong, sex pollen type situation, as consensual as a sex pollen situation can be, mutual pining, fingering, woman on top, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, implied oral sex (female receiving), smut with feelings.

~*~

“Why does a Romulan need a Federation escort, again?” I asked as I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and followed Captain Sisko down the corridor.

“Because Federation runabouts are able to withstand a particular form of radiation that utterly fries Romulan computer technology. In order to reach the planet where their probe went down, you need to pass through an asteroid field absolutely teeming with that radiation,” he answered as we reached the runabout airlock. “Starfleet isn’t about to give a Romulan free reign with one of its vessels.”

“And why can’t he and his men just, y’know...fly around that asteroid field instead?” That seemed like a rather obvious solution.

“Because that would take them several months out of their way - time which none of us can afford to spend in Dominion territory,” the Captain said as he handed me a small case. “You’ll need those.”

“What are they?”

“Earplugs,” he said with a smirk.

“Remind me: why was I chosen for this oh-so-special mission?” I asked slipping the case into my bag. Instead of the Captain, another voice piped up from directly behind me.

“Because, my lovely Lieutenant, you are the only one who can put up with me for long stretches.” Oh no. I knew that voice. With dread and several other emotions pounding away in the pit of my stomach, I turned and saw none other than Senator Letant wearing a mirthful smirk as he took in the look of sheer disbelief on my face. “Come, come, my dear, I would’ve thought you’d be overjoyed to see me again! After all, I requested you specifically for this little adventure.”

I opened my mouth to protest this assignment, but when I looked back, Captain Sisko had made himself scarce.

“Oh, let’s just get this over with,” I groused stepping around the Romulan and into the Shenandoah. Tossing my bag onto one of the benches at the back of the craft, I made my way to the cockpit with a pair of much-too-spry footsteps following in my wake.

“Just think of it, Lieutenant! We’ll have a whole week in the Gamma Quadrant, just the two of us.” Letant’s enthusiasm made me roll my eyes.

Of course he would be excited about this. He enjoyed flirting with me - or, more accurately, with anything that moved. Unfortunately, I enjoyed his banter, too, but how the hell was I supposed to keep him from seeing that for a whole week? If he knew, he’d be twice as insufferable as he already was.

With a quiet sigh, I refrained from responding, choosing to go through the pre-flight checks, instead. He rattled on while I ensured everything was prepped, but after several minutes of receiving no response from me, he laid a hand on my forearm. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the contact - a fact which didn’t go unnoticed by my co-pilot.

“Are you alright?” He sounded genuinely concerned, but I simply pulled my arm away and muttered a quiet ‘yes.’ Disbelief and sarcasm colored his tone when he spoke again. “Yes, of course. That must be why you’re behaving the way you are. In case you’ve forgotten, Lieutenant, I’m rather adept at spotting lies.”

Swallowing nervously, I turned back to my instruments.

“I’m fine. Pre-flight checks are all done. We’re ready to go,” I said, opening communications with the station before he could protest. “Shenandoah to Ops. All systems are green. Requesting permission to disembark.”

“Permission granted, Shenandoah,” Major Kira answered. “Sealing airlocks and releasing docking clamps. Have fun out there, you two. May the Prophets guide you.”

“Thanks, Major. We’ll be home before you know it. Shenandoah out,” I said as I closed communications and released our own docking systems. “Twenty seconds to the wormhole.”

“And how long until you tell me what’s bothering you, Lieutenant?” From my peripheral vision, I could see that the Senator had turned his chair to face me. If he was already able to tell that something was wrong, I really needed to compose myself. Otherwise, the next week was going to be hell.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just had a rough morning, that’s all,” I lied as I lowered our speed for the trip through the wormhole. “I should be back to my usual self in a little bit.”

“I see...” he murmured sounding no more convinced than he had a few moments before. “Well, if you require a sympathetic ear, I’d be more than happy to fill that role, and we are quite alone. Anything you told me would remain in total confidence.”

As light enveloped our little craft, I looked over at him, finding sincerity in his expression. I paused, though, because the ever-shifting light filtering into the cabin made his features glow. Letant looked almost ethereal - the changing hues flowed across his face, highlighting his forehead ridges, his nose, his lips, and making it impossible to ignore his beauty.

“Thank you, Senator. I’ll take that into consideration.” My voice came out raspier than I’d expected, making my cheeks burn. Before I could look back at the panel in front of me, though, Letant gave me a surprisingly gentle smile.

“I think we can safely skip the formalities, don’t you? There is nobody else here, and I certainly won’t be offended by a little added familiarity. Please, feel free to call me Letant,” he murmured, and I agreed quietly. A flash drew my attention away from him and back to piloting the runabout. We’d exited the wormhole.

“If you’ll input the coordinates, Letant, I’ll set a course,” I said, and a quiet hum came from the man beside me. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you say my name before, but I must admit...I quite like the way it sounds coming from you,” he murmured as he moved to do as I suggested. It felt strange to say his name when I wasn’t alone. The only place I’d said it before was when I was in my bed in the dead of night, but he definitely didn’t need to know that. He’d never let me live that down.

As soon as the course was set, I initiated the autopilot and took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I leaned back in my seat. It would take us about three days to get there at our vessel’s maximum warp.

“I can feel you staring at me, y’know.” My murmured observation drew a huff of incredulous laughter from my companion.

“Ridiculous. Utter rot. Even Romulans are not that perceptive,” he scoffed, but I just smirked.

“Haven’t you ever heard a Human say they felt eyes on the back of their head before?”

“I have.”

“They mean it. Yes, that expression can be used to communicate paranoia, but usually the person is being literal. We can feel when we’re being watched. We may not be able to pinpoint where it’s coming from, but a gaze can be felt as easily as a touch,” I explained, cracking my eyes open and tilting my head, finding him looking at me stunned as I’d expected to. Scientifically, that was only partially correct with psychological bias factored in, but he didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty details. “I wonder, was it you staring at me in Quark’s the other night? Or was it some other inebriated patron?”

“Who told you I was in the bar?” He fired back with a knowing raise of an eyebrow.

“Nobody. You and your guards make quite an entrance everywhere you go. I saw you arrive, but I thought little of it,” I lied, trying to give the impression that I hadn’t seen him in a gorgeous green tunic he’d never worn before. He’d looked so handsome that night, but I couldn’t show that I cared about his looks. He’d never let me live it down.

“That’s too bad. I’d hoped to ask your opinion on my tunic. I don’t often wear purple garments,” he said, and before I could stop myself or think better of it, I blurted out what I was thinking.

“But it was gre–” I broke off, but he’d heard just enough to widen his smile.

“You’re quite right. It was green, but how would you know that, e’lev?” Letant asked leaning closer to me. “I thought you didn’t care that I’d been in the bar?”

“I didn’t. As I said, your entrances aren’t exactly subtle. Everyone in the bar likely noticed you and your new tunic. That hardly makes me unique,” I said trying to explain my statement away, but his voice just lowered a bit more, becoming more velvety and delicious.

“...I don’t recall mentioning that the tunic was new.” He practically radiated triumph and glee, even as I internally cringed at my slip.

“And you still haven’t answered my original question,” I deflected as I stood and walked to one of the other sensor arrays as an excuse to put a little space between us. Beginning to perform a re-calibration, I nearly rolled my eyes when I heard footsteps behind me.

“You’re right. I never did answer your question. How rude of me,” the Senator said, his voice growing ever closer. Eventually, one of his hands rested on the bulkhead near my shoulder, and the other rested gently on my waist. “I admit I did look at you quite frequently that night, but I simply cannot resist a gorgeous view when it’s offered so freely. You seemed so relaxed. Nevertheless, allow me to apologize for staring like a lecherous rogue. Tell me...how can I make it up to you?”

His mirthful, suggestive question was practically whispered against my ear, but I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a shudder of pleasure. It would be much too easy to turn and connect my lips with his.

“No need, Senator,” I murmured, hating how shaky my voice sounded. Ducking carefully under his arm, I went back to my seat and acted like I was double-checking the sensors. The Romulan let out a sigh, but he didn’t look too disappointed when he returned.

“You might change your mind over the course of our journey,” he said lounging in his chair, “and if you do, I’m quite open to any suggestions you might have.”

This was going to be a long trip.

--

The next morning, I stumbled through my usual routine, shuffling into the cockpit of the runabout with a hot mug of coffee clutched in my hands. Blinking sleepily as I took my seat, I started checking the sensors and our course.

“Well, well, good morning!” Amusement practically dripped from Letant’s voice. Oh, it was too early for this. “You seem to be out of uniform today.”

“Since we won’t be at our destination for another couple of days, I thought I may as well wear something a little more comfortable,” I said glancing down at my oversized shirt and sweatpants. “Besides, I thought you said you didn’t mind if we dropped some of the formalities? If you object, I can always get back into uniform...”

“Oh no, don’t you dare! I don’t mind at all. I’ve never seen you looking so ravishing,” he crooned as he raked his eyes over me. “Is this how you normally dress when you’re not on duty?”

“Yep, this is my favorite shirt, actually,” I answered sipping my coffee. I’d had it for so long that it was beginning to go threadbare in a few places, allowing my skin to peek through - a fact I hadn’t given much thought to before, but which I was now acutely aware of with the Senator’s roving eyes on me. “I take it you approve?”

“Oh, heartily, but I’ve never known you to need another person’s approval,” he said leaning toward me in my peripheral vision.

“And you seem to need the approval of every woman who dares to glance in your direction.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but once it was out, I couldn’t put it back, no matter how much I might want to.

“Not every woman. Only you,” he responded without missing a beat, and my eyes snapped up to meet his before I could think better of it. Beneath the obvious hunger in his expression, there was something...soft and vulnerable that startled me into looking away.

No. No, I was imagining that look. I had to be. Letant was a Senator. He could have any woman he wanted. There was no way he’d want me.

The rest of the day, Letant seemed somewhat more subdued, alternating between focusing on a Romulan data PADD he’d brought with him and the readout from the primary sensor array. I still caught him looking over at me occasionally, but he wasn’t nearly as determined to drive me insane as usual.

--

We decided to alternate who got the early morning shifts so that neither of us would be overly tired. Thus, the second morning, I was halfway through my second cup of coffee before Letant emerged from the aft section of the runabout. Glancing back at him, I noticed his own informal wardrobe for the day and did a double-take. Wearing only a pair of midnight blue sleep pants and an open, matching silk robe, Senator Letant stole my breath as he did nothing more than take his seat in the copilot’s chair.

So that was what he was hiding beneath his uniform!

“See something you like, e’lev?” Tearing my eyes away from the smattering of hair on his well-defined chest, I looked up to see him giving me a knowing smile. “Oh, don’t go quiet on me again. We’ve made so much progress on that front in the last couple of days. Would it help if I got back into my uniform?”

“Don’t you dare,” I murmured, repeating his own words back at him and drawing a devilish grin to his lips.

“I believe that’s the boldest flirtation I’ve ever received from you,” he declared crossing his legs and allowing his eyes to skim down the length of my body a little slower than the day before.

“Who said it was flirtation? If I have a right to be in my pajamas, so do you.”

“Ah, it’s a matter of equality, then. How curious. I could’ve sworn I saw you bite your lip a few moments ago,” Letant murmured, and I wracked my memory. Had I? It was conceivable that I had subconsciously. He did tend to bring out those sorts of reactions in me. His voice calling my name knocked me out of my anxious thoughts. “Oh, don’t worry. I did much worse than bite my lip when I went to bed last night. And after being around a beautiful woman in nothing but her pajamas all day, who could blame me?”

My cheeks burned at his insinuation. He was joking. He had to be joking. He’d never do...that...while thinking about me.

...Would he?

No. No, way. He was probably just trying to get a rise out of me first thing in the morning. I should just ignore hi–

“Ah, we’ve made better time than I expected,” he murmured checking the estimated time of arrival. “We’ll be there in less than twelve hours. It should’ve taken us eighteen more. How did you manage that?”

Okay, this I could do. I could totally talk work.

“Oh, I made a few routine course adjustments and skirted around a few astronomical phenomena that could have slowed us down,” I said as I pulled up a log I’d been keeping of my adjustments. He skimmed over it and a low hum issued from his throat.

“...You do realize what this means, don’t you?” Letant asked looking up at me, and I raised an eyebrow. “This means we have six fewer hours to spend together on this journey. You wound me, Lieutenant. Am I truly so unpleasant a traveling companion?”

He laid a hand dramatically over his chest and adopted a look of faux innocence.

“Seriously? We’re flying through Dominion territory and that is what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I did select you for this mission so that we could spend time together,” he replied as if it should be obvious. I could scarcely believe my ears. “I thought you might enjoy some private interaction with a man as attractive as I am.”

“You are the most arrogant person I’ve ever met.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think about stopping them, but rather than looking offended, Letant merely leaned toward me in his ridiculous, open robe and smirked.

“And did it never cross your mind that I have what it takes to back up my inflated ego?”

I had no rebuttal for that. The possibility had crossed my mind several times, in fact. Taking my silence as an answer, the Senator seemed satisfied that he’d gotten his point across.

“Now, before we reach our long-awaited destination, I need to brief you on what to expect,” he said, as if I hadn’t been briefed on the basics before we left. Before I could protest, however, he held up a hand. “There are several details that the Romulan government did not see fit to authorize me to convey to Starfleet, details that you must be made aware of if we are to complete this mission successfully.”

“Is the probe sentient or something?”

Letant let out a short burst of mirthful laughter.

“No, certainly not, although I admire your vivid imagination. The probe we’re going to be looking for is equipped...with a cloaking device.”

With the most serious expression I could muster, I set my coffee aside and laid my hand over one of his.

“Letant, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Starfleet has been aware that your people have had cloaking devices for over a century. I’m so sorry, I know that must come as a bit of a shock.” He gave me an exasperated look, and I couldn’t help but smile mischievously at having finally irritated him for once.

“You know, you are gorgeous, intelligent, and an utter pleasure to be around, but, Elements, my girl, you can be infuriating,” he said lifting my hand to his lips.

“Speak for yourself, Deihu.” The expression on his face morphed into pure surprise. “My apologies for the interruption. Please continue. What is it about this cloaking device that makes it so special?”

“Not only is it a new type of cloak, it was made more durable as well. We expect that it survived the crash and is still active,” Letant explained.

“So we’re going to be looking for a fully cloaked probe? How the hell are we supposed to find it, then?” Maybe that was why we’d been given a full day to search for this damn thing.

“Ah, I have a deactivation signal that I’ve already programmed into our tricorders. Once we scan the probe, it’ll decloak, we can remove the section that we need, and we can get back home,” he murmured, skimming his thumbs over the back of my hand. Why did he still have my hand?

And why did I never want him to let go?

“Why not just put that code into the runabout computer and scan the whole planet from orbit?” I asked raising an eyebrow.

“Because the tricorders can be destroyed afterward. The runabout computer can’t if we want to get home.” Of course. The Romulan Empire wouldn’t want any trace of how we deactivated a cloak to exist afterward to compromise them. “I do have the approximate location of where the probe went down - it was still transmitting as it crashed - so we should be able to land close enough to get into tricorder range within a reasonable span of time.”

A rather unpleasant thought occurred to me, then, and for the first time, I was forced to confront just how dangerous Letant could be if he so chose. His species was physically stronger than mine. If he wanted to hurt me, he could with barely any effort, and I would have no chance of stopping him.

“And...when we’re searching for the probe, what happens if I end up seeing it or the decloaking codes? Are you going to have to eliminate me for the sake of the Empire’s security?” To my horror, my voice was much quieter and shakier than I anticipated. Letant’s grip on my hand tightened by a fraction, and he looked at me with an inscrutable expression.

“If you truly believe that I could ever raise a hand to you, then you don’t know me as well as you think, e’lev,” he said. “I chose you for this mission, because I trust you not to reveal any more than is necessary to your superiors.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to that, so I simply nodded my head. Savoring the feeling of his fingers holding mine, I looked at Letant curiously. What was I supposed to make of him?

--

The rest of the trip was relatively quiet as I mulled over everything I’d learned. We were both mostly silent as we took turns getting changed back into our uniforms in the back. Even Letant’s flirtations were more subtle. I was working off muscle memory more than conscious effort as we approached the planet to enter orbit.

“Lieutenant, I’m inputting the range of coordinates where the probe could possibly be. If you could place us in synchronous orbi–”

He was cut off by an explosion rocking the craft and throwing us from our seats. My arm collided hard with the deck plating, and I let out a grunt of pain as I struggled to right myself.

“The starboard engine just overloaded,” I called as I finally got a glimpse at my panel. I clawed myself back into my chair and aimed us as close as I could manage to the area Letant had indicated. He pulled himself up just as I did, and as I held us on course, he started an emergency shutdown for the warp and impulse engines. “We’re going down no matter what we do! Brace yourself for impact!”

The collision jolted me from my seat, but before I could hit anything, a pair of strong, warm arms caught me. Grabbing onto Letant instinctively, we clung to each other for dear life until the runabout came to a screeching halt in the dirt.

In the unnatural silence that followed, our breaths seemed much too loud. I kept my face buried in the crook of the Senator’s neck for several beats longer than was strictly necessary, catching my breath and savoring the solidity of his body against mine.

Letant breathed my name against the top of my head, and I reluctantly forced myself to pull back far enough to look at him. A dribble of green blood trickled down the side of his head from a small gash.

“You’re hurt,” I murmured as I reached up and turned his head so I could examine him.

“Perhaps, but you’re not.” A glimmer of triumph twined through his words. Forcing myself onto my feet, I found the emergency medkit and passed the dermal regenerator over his injury with as much care as I possessed. He touched the spot gingerly when I was done and smiled up at me when he found himself healed. “You have my sincerest gratitude, e’lev.”

A flutter of pride went through my chest as I put the medical tools back in the kit. As a precaution, I took out a medical tricorder and set it aside in case we needed it.

“Why is this probe so important, anyway?” I asked a few moments later as we examined the outside of the runabout. Surveying the craft for damage was our first order of business. After all, if there was no chance we’d get off this planet, there was little point in rushing off to find the probe. Survival always came first. “May I know what we almost died in pursuit of? Surely, we didn’t go through all of this just for a prototype cloaking device.”

“No, it wasn’t just the cloak. Our probe managed to record secret information on the Dominion, but I’m afraid I can tell you no more than that without endangering you,” he said as he stepped over a large log. “Well, the propulsion systems appear to be offline but functional, as well the weapons.”

“Not quite. The antigrav thrusters are shot. We’ll have to get those working again before we can lift off,” I called as I pulled a branch out of one of the intake ports. “Okay. Well, it looks like we shouldn’t be stuck here for too long, at least. We should be able to find the probe, fix the thrusters, and head back.”

A vague noise of approval sounded from my companion.

“We landed not far from the probe’s potential crash site. If you’ve got the tricorders set up, we can start our search now,” I suggested as we both met up at the door of the runabout. Anticipating my statement, Letant held out two tricorders, one for me, and one for him. I noted that the medical one was already strapped to his side. Grabbing a second commbadge from inside the cabin, I traded it for the tricorder. “Keep your commline open. After all, we’ve only got each other out here.”

“Indeed. Watch yourself, Lieutenant,” Letant said as I strapped a phaser and holster around my waist. His own disruptor gleamed in the evening light. 

The setting sun cast long, sleepy shadows across the ground as we tramped through the trees. I’d taken a different direction than the Senator so that we could cover more ground, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was allowing himself to pause and take in the beauty of this previously unexplored planet. 

“Report, Lieutenant.” Speak of the devil.

“I’m not reading any humanoid lifeforms, only plant life, small animals, and various insects. I’m not reading the probe, either, so apparently I’m not in range yet.”

“No need to worry, Lieutenant. I’ve apparently entered range of the probe. I’ve almost reached it now. As far as life form readings, I’m getting the same as you. Be cautious, though. There’s an insect I scanned which appears to be venomous.” Letant’s warning came just as I stepped into a clearing filled with what looked like bioluminescent moths. Their colors varied through the entire visible spectrum of light, creating pulsations and swirls of color in the sky. For a moment, I could do no more than watch them in silence.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed as I watched the little winged bugs dance in the low evening light. “Letant, you’ve got to come see this!”

“Acknowledged. I’ve gotten what we need from the probe. On my way,” he responded, but I barely noticed. As if the little bugs were aware that they had an audience, they fluttered together and fanned out in a brilliant array of shapes I couldn’t even begin to describe. Just as I began to hear the Senator’s footsteps approaching me, the entire swarm of brilliantly hued moths fluttered toward me. I stumbled backward against a very solid chest. Turning just enough to confirm I’d bumped into Letant, my eyes met his just as the moths flew around us in a tight spiral from our toes to our heads. The light from their wings caressed his features, sparkling in his irises as I looked up at him in utter awe. His voice came out as a breathy whisper when he spoke a single word. “E’lev...”

The thrumming of wings slowly lowered in volume, and we watched the moths’ progress as they began to alight upon the branches of the trees at the perimeter of the clearing, colors still pulsing and changing as beautifully as before. Becoming aware of two arms wrapped around me like iron bars holding me upright against the Senator’s chest, I felt my face begin to burn.

“Thanks for catching me,” I murmured. Was it my imagination or was his face getting closer?

“It was my pleasure,” he breathed, and his lips brushed against mine. As my eyelids fluttered closed, though, something sharp jabbed my neck, and I let out a startled yelp. Turning me in his grasp, Letant caught my hand as I reached for the area. “Hush, it’s alright. Let me see.”

Baring my neck for him, I felt my heart sink when he swore in Romulan under his breath and pulled out his tricorder.

“Let me guess. That was one of the venomous ones.” The quiet beeping of the tricorder cut through the deafening silence - an answer of its own. I could already feel sweat beading on my skin beneath my uniform. Whatever this venom was, it was potent.

“We’re too far from the runabout to make it there before you suffer any ill effects. Do you trust me?” I’d barely even managed to answer in the affirmative when his lips closed over the bite mark and sucked hard. Gasping at the sensation, I clutched at his shoulders and tried to work out what the hell he was doing. Pain lanced through me from the wound, but after something pulled free, every ounce of discomfort within me transformed into intense euphoria.

The Senator spat something on the ground a moment later then returned his lips to the same place, sucking hard again. This time a moan tore from my throat. I never wanted him to stop. I felt like I’d die if he stopped - hell, I think I murmured something to that effect as I clung to him.

 It was as if the sensitivity of every nerve in my body had been heightened all at once starting with the spot where Letant’s lips were glued to my skin. Cascading downwards across my entire being, electricity, desperation, and pleasure had all been ignited within me.

Through the fog, the vague thought that he was attempting to suck the poison out of my wound poked at my mind, but it was deftly swatted away by the feeling of his lips repositioning themselves on my neck as one of his large hands supported the back of my head.

He spat something else onto the ground, but by then I was nearly limp with pleasure. I’d been close to an orgasm, so achingly close. Tears sprang to my eyes at the loss of contact, and all too soon he was asking me a question that I was too bleary to comprehend.

“Lieutenant? Can you understand me?” He sounded almost panicked, but I’d made out enough to answer that time. “Let’s get you back to the runabout.”

What the hell? Why did I nearly have an orgasm from what amounted to rather enthusiastic necking? As we trudged back the way we’d come, Letant supported me with an arm around my waist. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed the stupidly strong arousal that the sting and his reaction had caused. Surely at such close range he had? But if he did, then why wasn’t he teasing me about it?

And why did I have that reaction in the first place? I’d wondered what it was like to be with him on more occasions than I cared to admit, of course, but why the hell did I feel like all my nerves were hypersensitive?

The burning, overwhelming need for stimulation settled into a persistent buzzing in my abdomen. I’d never heard of venom causing a reaction like this before.

As soon as we stepped inside the shuttle, I ducked into the washroom at the back of the runabout. Splashing water on my face, I barely managed to hold back the moan that threatened to bubble out of me at how good the cold liquid felt against my burning skin. When I reemerged, Letant looked over at me with concern furrowing his brow.

“Are you experiencing any odd symptoms?” He asked, and I hated how my body reacted instantly to his voice. Any assistance that the cool water had provided disappeared as my skin heated further and I was forced to look away from him. “Lieutenant?”

“Hypersensitivity,” I answered. I hoped he would simply drop the topic and allow me to remain vague in my answer, but I had no such luck.

“In what way?”

“My hearing is amplified, smells are stronger, and I’m more aware of tactile sensations.” As I explained, Letant’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Silently, he pulled out the medical tricorder he’d grabbed earlier and scanned me. After a long moment, he set it aside and moved to my side.

“E’lev, what can I do to help you?” He’d lowered his voice, likely out of consideration for my condition, which simultaneously made things better and worse. My ears hurt a little less, but this new register was gravelly and sinful, making me close my eyes as I felt a new gush of warmth between my legs. “You have a fever and elevated levels of hormones. Are you experiencing other symptoms that you haven’t mentioned?”

“Let’s just get the thrusters working so we can get off this planet,” I rasped as I stepped around him and got a tool kit. Focusing on anything would be difficult, but it would be better than throwing myself at a man like Letant.

I wanted him, oh, I wanted him desperately - I felt like I’d go crazy if he didn’t see though my act and fuck me soon - but he flirted with anything that moved. It was more likely that if I made a move, he’d tell me politely that he preferred prettier women...dabo girls like Hartla and Leeta, not officers like me. The idea that he could want someone like me was a childish fantasy, but...I wasn’t ready for it to end. Not yet.

The last few days had felt like a dream. He’d even seemed like he was letting his guard down in a sincere way. I wasn’t quite ready to give that up. His feelings might not be genuine, but mine were. I knew I’d have to wake up and face reality one day, but this trip had allowed me to push that sobering thought aside for a while.

As we worked on the downed systems, I was acutely aware of his proximity. Every time he moved, my stomach clenched and the traitorous heat between my legs got worse. Eventually, the computer pinged, notifying us that the engines were working again.

“Strap in. I’ll start the launch sequence,” I called as I made sure everything we’d brought was secure. Letant double-checked to make sure everything was secure, and within minutes we cleared the atmosphere. Though I didn’t remember doing so until later, I set our course back toward the wormhole and engaged the engines at our maximum speed. I had the distinct impression that whatever that insect had done to me needed to be fixed as quickly as possible.

I had no idea how much time had passed since we launched when a warm, familiar hand landed gently on my shoulder. I tensed involuntarily despite the inherent caution in its owner’s every movement.

“Why don’t you let me take over for a while? I assure you, I’m perfectly capa–”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, but I’m fine,” I cut him off trying to sound as though I was something close to normal again. Letant wasn’t buying it, though. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that I’d dismissed such an intense reaction so quickly.

“You’re not fine. E’lev, you’ve been flying this runabout for hours, and neither of us has any idea how your condition might affect you,” the Senator said reaching over and activating the autopilot system. “Overexertion could be lethal, and I am not prepared to lose you.”

“Letant, for fuck’s sake, I’m–”

“You are ill, I outrank you, and I am giving you a direct order, Lieutenant.” I turned my seat to face him, scoffing all the while.

“You can’t give me a direct order, Senator. You’re not a Starfleet officer. I’m staying right fucking here!” As soon as the assertion left my lips I knew it was the wrong thing to say. I tried to swivel my chair back to face my work station, but Letant caught it effortlessly in one hand. His damnable Romulan strength allowed him to keep it stationary with barely more than a thought. Slowly, he rose to his feet and leaned in close enough to brace his other hand on the back of my seat, effectively caging me in.

“I may not be a member of your precious Federation, but I am responsible for your safety!” I’d seen the Senator irritated before, even close to anger, but the passion burning in his eyes had me frozen squarely in place, pinned by his gaze. “You will get yourself cleaned up, lie down in your bunk, and get some rest. Argue with me again, and I will toss you over my shoulder and tie you to your bed until we return to the station. Is that clear?”

The low, velvety caress of his voice contrasted with the harshness of his tone, and suddenly, I couldn’t decide whether I was intimidated or more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledged that it was a particularly potent combination of both.

Undoubtedly mistaking my silence for fear, Letant’s gaze softened, and he cupped my face in both his hands. Silently, gently, he touched my forehead lightly with his, and his next words came out barely above a whisper.

“You know...surely, you must know that I’m doing this to keep you safe...?”

Covering his fingers with mine, I tried to steady my breathing. He was so close to me, and he smelled so good! Every inhale filled me with more desperation, especially when I contemplated how easy it would be to kiss him, but I hoped beyond hope that I wasn’t being too obvious despite our proximity.

Realizing I’d been silent for too long, I swallowed and forced myself to take a breath.

“I trust you, Letant. I always will,” I murmured. I hoped he would never question the reason behind my certainty. He pulled back just far enough to allow me to get shakily to my feet. “I’ll do as you ask, but just this once.”

With a small, fond smile, he brushed a bit of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll see about that, e’lev.” With that parting tease out in the open, I walked - or rather, stumbled - into the aft section of the runabout.

--

By the time that the dirt had sloughed off me in the sonic shower, I had to concentrate very hard stay upright. I was exhausted. First, the crash, then the walk through the woods, and the sting...it had been a long day.

The heat between my legs had intensified even further, leaving me shaking as I leaned against the wall of the sonic shower. The coolness against my overheated skin made me moan. The sound came out much louder than I’d intended, and I hoped that Letant hadn’t heard me.

Letant. Just thinking about him sent a fresh wave of slick dripping from my center. He wouldn’t know as long as I was quiet, would he?

Dipping my fingers between my legs, I was forced to slap a hand over my mouth at how good the friction felt. Against my better judgment, I brought myself to a quick, mostly-quiet orgasm, stifling my moans the best I could.

I could finally breathe a little easier once I’d blown off a bit of steam. One tiny little orgasm wasn’t going to be sufficient to make everything stop. I could tell. But it had given me the relief and clear mind that I needed to be able to go through the rest of my nightly routine and crawl into my bunk.

Rest, however, was thin on the ground. The heat that had been plaguing me in ever-building waves kept me tossing and turning in search of comfort. As I faded in and out of consciousness, brief flashes of dreams flitted across the insides of my eyelids. 

Hell, I even dreamed that Letant came to check on me, once. The quiet, familiar beeping of the medical tricorder seemed distant and hazy compared to the soft, affectionate caress on my cheek. He whispered that word he’d been saying all through this trip: ‘e’lev.’ It felt important. Everything about this dream felt important, but I couldn’t place my finger on the reason, choosing instead to allow myself to fall back into my troubled, achy sleep.

When I finally gave up on sleep several hours later, I was covered in sweat. My own natural lubricant dripped down my thighs once more, and I was forced to get in the sonic shower again just to become halfway presentable. I didn’t bother with a uniform when I got out. Opting instead for comfortable set of clothes, I walked shakily toward the runabout cabin.

I paused and leaned against the wall for support, contemplating how I was supposed to beat this, but in that short span of time I managed to catch Letant’s attention.

He looked thoroughly surprised to see me standing upright in my condition, but truth be told, he looked a little worse for wear himself. The Senator looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept yet. And there was worry in his eyes - so much concern that I hadn’t seen from him before.

“You should be in bed,” he croaked as he got to his feet. Not giving him the chance to herd me away, I took a few determined steps forward.

“I’m fine,” I rasped, but he didn’t look at all convinced.

“E’lev, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? I know you’re experiencing more than you’ve let on. If you tell me, I might be able to help yo–”

“You can’t, okay?!” He looked surprised by my outburst. Hell, I was surprised by my outburst. “You can’t help me, because I feel like I’m going to scratch my skin off if I don’t...if...”

A stab of pain and arousal wound through my abdomen, silencing my protests. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I dropped to my knees and tried to breathe through the sensation. Nothing I’d done had helped so far. Fingering myself in the bathroom had given me temporary relief, but as soon as I came in close proximity with Letant again, the almost uncontrollable lust had returned stronger than before. It had only grown since the sting, and now I was left a trembling, humiliated mess on the floor in front of the Senator.

“Do you think you’ve been successful in your efforts to hide your condition from me?” The question wasn’t accusatory, but I still looked away as he knelt in front of me and grasped my shoulders. “Because your pheromones gave you away the moment I tried sucking the stinger and venom from your neck.”

I looked up at him in alarm, but all that met me was a warm, gentle smile.

“You knew?”

“Of course, I did. Between that and your scent in the shower, it has been quite obvious that you are in need of some intimate attention,” he said, and my face burned. “If you truly have no desire to allow me to help you, I will respect your wishes and leave you in privacy, but over the time I’ve known you, I always felt there was...more to our interactions. If I was mistaken about my interest being mutual, I sincerely apologize, but if I was right...please, allow me to alleviate your suffering.”

“Are you doing this out of pity?” Letant looked scandalized by the mere suggestion. “Why would you be attracted to me when there are women who are so much...well, more?”

“No, I’m not doing this out of pity! My interest in you has always been genuine. I thought you of all people would’ve realized that by now, e’lev,” he said cupping my cheeks softly and looking into my eyes. Instead of mirth, all I found this time was sincerity and affection. “Why would I waste my time with anyone else when perfection is right here in front of me? None of them are you.”

His lips covered mine, and I stopped thinking altogether. Surrendering to the sensation, my eyelids fluttered closed, and I clutched at the front of his tunic. As though a switch had been flipped, I gave in. Letant was all I’d wanted for a long time.

Before I even realized I’d moved, I pulled him closer and practically started climbing him. A gentle laugh reverberated through his chest as he caught my waist, and I nibbled my way down the side of his jaw.

“Desperate, are we? Don’t worry, my eager girl. I’m going to help you,” he murmured lifting me into his arms. As he carried me toward the bunk in the aft section, I clung to him, trailing my lips across his skin in a haze of lust. I’d given in entirely to my raging hormones and my desire, and I needed him to just fuck me already! 

A pained whine escaped me when Letant laid me on the bed and I was forced to release my death grip on his shoulders. Had he decided I was more trouble than I was worth? No, surely he wouldn’t leave me when I needed him this badly.

My worries were silenced when he laid one of his large hands on my upper thigh and allowed it to skim upwards to the utterly doused fabric covering my crotch.

“So beautiful...” His reverent whisper made me arch toward him, praying for more friction than just that of fabric. “You’d let me do whatever I wanted to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything. Anything, just please touch me–ah!” My begging morphed into an almost feral sound of pleasure as he tore the crotch of my leggings and dragged his fingertips through my folds. Suddenly I was incredibly grateful to my earlier self for choosing to forego underwear. That was the wisest choice I’d made all week.

“Hush, I won’t leave you unfulfilled,” he promised, slipping one, then two fingers inside of me. Clutching the bedsheets frantically, I found myself lost in his gaze. Hunger, passion, and potent confidence drew me to him like a moth to a flame. It was painfully obvious, now, that Letant’s earlier insinuation about having good reasons to be confident in his abilities was absolutely true. 

Had I a scrap of dignity left, I would’ve been irritated at that revelation. As it was, all I could manage was a series of desperate moans and pleas as the Senator curled his fingers within me. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, I was arching off the bed and gushing around his digits. 

Letant murmured quiet praises that made a small, quiet part of myself roar with pride at having earned his compliments. He leaned down to kiss me, and almost without conscious thought, I maneuvered him beneath me and started tugging at his clothing. There need to be less separating us. I needed the hardness tenting his pants inside me now!

The next few moments were a blur of clothes sailing away from the bed, and finally - finally - I was able to sink down on his length. The tightness of his grip on my hips spoke to his own growing need for this coupling. We were both beyond words when I began to ride him in earnest. He sat up beneath me and wrapped an arm around my waist, even as his free hand tangled its way into my hair.

Our labored breathing sounded so right. This was what we’d been missing all this time. When I finally tipped over the edge into another orgasm, the last of my lover’s restraint snapped, and he shoved me onto my back amidst the sheets.

Resuming his place between my legs, Letant looked positively feral as he set out to prove why Romulans made superior mates. He gave me everything: powerful thrusts, hungry growls, and an orgasm intense enough to make my voice go hoarse when I called his name.

The fires ignited by the venom in my veins finally cooled when a shattered moan poured from his throat and his seed filled me in hot spurts. Bliss and tranquility blanketed every cell in my body as he rained featherlight kisses across my mouth and cheeks. This was heaven.

Letant maneuvered us into a much more comfortable position, murmuring that I should rest. His voice melted into a delicious hum that In was too boneless and satiated to comprehend, but it was alright. Everything was alright. He’d protect me.

--

The first sensation I became aware of when I awoke was the gentle, affectionate caress of warm fingers across my back. Still wrapped solidly in the comforting embrace of a Romulan Senator, I let myself float leisurely back to the realm of consciousness. There was no rush. We were still a long way from the wormhole and Deep Space Nine.

Stirring slowly, I tilted my head just far enough to press my lips against Letant’s neck, prompting a low hum from deep in his chest.

“I take it you’re feeling better?” The Senator asked, and I let out an affirmative sound as I snuggled farther into his arms. “I thoroughly enjoy this version of you, you know...the one who isn’t pushing me away.”

Guilt wormed its way through me as I recalled all the instances where I hadn’t believed he was sincere in his flirtations.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, e’lev. You were protecting yourself,” he murmured pressing his lips against my forehead in a gentle kiss. “I do want you to know, though, that for as long as I live, I will be yours. Assuming you’ll have me, of course.”

Pushing myself up far enough to look into his eyes, I traced my fingertips down the bridge of his nose and over the softness of his lips. Then, without my permission, the words I’d held inside of me for so long finally poured out.

“I love you, Letant.” The smile he gave me as he flipped me onto my back and hovered over me was the most glorious sight I’d ever witnessed.

“I think you know how I feel about you, but just in case the idea needs reinforcing: I will love you until all the stars in the universe go out,” the Senator promised before catching my lips in a tender kiss that inevitably deepened into something more. He practically dragged himself down my body, lips trailing in his wake, eyes burning into my soul, pausing only when he was far enough to lift my legs over his shoulders. The mischief in his eyes told me everything I needed to know about what he was planning.

“Letant, you...don’t have to–”

“Oh, but I want to. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you,” he crooned as he kissed his way up my thighs. “Your pheromones are so strong that every time you enter a room, you’re all I can think about...all I can imagine...all I desire. I’ve fallen asleep so many times with the memory of your scent lingering in my mind that I almost always wake up so hard that it fucking hurts.”

I moaned before I could stop myself, but Letant was undeterred. Trailing his lips up my inner thigh, he made every move with intention and tenderness enough to convince me that he actually had imagined us like this before. When his eyes met mine, it hit me that the emotions he spoke of weren’t just a womanizer’s bluster, they were real.

He loved me as much as I loved him.

And apparently he was going to make quite certain that I never questioned the sincerity of his feelings for me again.

~*~*~

Romulan Words:

e’lev = darling

Deihu = Senator

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786​ @horta-in-charge​ @live-logs-and-proper​ @slutty-slutty-vulcans​ @starrynightgardens​ @toebeans-mcgee​

[dragon-creates]

Royally Screwed!

Read on AO3

1/2/3/4/5

Wow that was some hiatus. But we're officially back! And hopefully we'll start to update more frequently as well, but I can't be too sure because of college and (if you've been following me on twitter and tiktok) I'm also voicing Jane Doe in 'Birds Of Paradise' by Rosetta Sun on tiktok. I really recommend going to her kofi as the rest of the cast and I are doing commisions to voice your oc's! We all have a large range of voices so if you want go to the link of Rosetta's tiktok bio and go to her kofi and see which voice would best suit your oc! Besides from that, hopefully I'll be writing more too, especially with a certain sequel everyone has been waiting for 👀.

Also, the beginning of the chapter does go into detail about Pomni's past and how she was treated by Caine, it wasn't great to say the least. I don't want anyone to feel triggered to like always, I will label (1) when the flashback starts and (2) when it ends. If this is something that you're not comfortable reading, please always feel free to skip this fic.

Anyways, enjoy!

4. Anything, Anything, Anything

(1)

Pomni panted as she stared at the ground below, clutching onto her aerial silk. She didn’t know how long she had been practicing for, only that she was completely exhausted. But rehearsals weren’t over yet, she had to keep going. The ground looked so far down below her, sure she was up high but for some reason the height was giving her vertigo. She never gets vertigo.

“Pomni?” Kaufmo called up to her, placing down a pie he had for his act. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Pomni took a breath, “I’m fine Pa! Just lost my focus, that’s all.”

The clown didn’t seem to buy it, “I don’t think so kiddo, start climbing down slowly, you look exhausted.”

It was true. Her eyes were red with bags underneath, she seemed paler than normal and she was concerningly thin from what Kaufmo could see. But she didn’t want to worry him, not when there were worse things at play, “I’m fine Pa! I promise. I…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, her vision blurring and her head pounding with the force of an unexpected headache. Against her control, she slipped into unconscious, letting go of the silks.

“POMNI!” Kaufmo screamed, running to where she was falling. The rest of the cast gasped, halting their own practice as they raced to the collapsing jester.

She was lucky that her father was there in time, catching her in his arms before her body hit the floor. Kaufmo didn’t even want to imagine the type of damage she could have taken. “Ragatha,” he turned to the ragdoll, “Go get her some water, she’s skipping practice for the rest of the day.”

“Now, now Kaufmo,” a low voice drawled, making everyone’s skin crawl when the ringmaster floated into the tent. His eyes sharpened in on Kaufmo and the fainted jester in his arms, “I don’t believe you have the authority to make those commands.”

“Pomni fainted Caine,” Kaufmo hissed, his own tone cold and unafraid, “It takes the slightest bit of human empathy to recognise that she’s being overworked!”

Caine went still, his feet planted on the ground, unhappy with Kaufmo’s attitude. Ragatha’s lions immediately circled round the clown and jester, shielding them from the ringmaster’s unknown wrath, “She’ll be fine, she just needs to keep practising.”

“She needs rest.” Kaufmo spat, “The only reason why she fainted the way she did is because you keep working her to the bone to the point that she can’t even stand. Not to mention the fact that you’re sucking the literal life out of her every day just so you can fulfil your ‘precious’ ego! So excuse me if I find everything that comes out of your mouth to be complete horseshit!”

The clown panted, not tearing his eyes away from Caine even for a second. The next few seconds were nothing but aching silence.

Kaufmo had been used to Caine’s torment for years. The pair of dentures forced him to endure each performance no matter how much pain he was in. As long as the audience was satisfied, he couldn’t care less if the clown had a few broken bones. But Kaufmo would be damned if he was going to let the ringmaster inflict that same pain onto his daughter, not if he could help it.

The clown turned his attention away from Caine when he heard a small whine, turning to look down at Pomni fluttering her eyes open. “Pa?” she whimpered, “What happened?”

“Hey there kiddo,” he rocked her lightly, like he used to do when she was younger after she had a fright or a nightmare. “You fainted, you’re lucky I was there to catch you.” He put a hand to her forehead, wiping away a bead of sweat, “You’re burning up, come on you need to lay down.”

“I didn’t give out that order,” Caine intervened.

“And I don’t care!” Kaufmo snapped, “You’re not pushing her to the brink today Caine! Do what you want with me but leave Pomni out of this!”

“Here,” Ragatha rushed back, a cup of water nursed in her hands as she held it to Pomni’s lips. “Oh sweetheart, you look as pale as a ghost.”

Pomni gulped down as much of the liquid as she could, she didn’t realise how thirsty she was until the water hit her throat. Her head buzzed with a light ache, pressing her hand to it when she finished the water. She really had been overworked, hadn’t she?

“Easy there, kiddo,” Kaufmo raised her upper body into a sitting position, “Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

Caine cleared his throat condescendingly, “I believe I told you that I didn’t give out that order Kaufmo.”

“And I believe I told you that it was complete horseshit,” the clown retorted, not taking his eyes off Pomni as he helped her to her feet.

“I guess you need a gentle reminder,” the ringmaster spoke softly, contradicting his words with the next action he was about to do.

He flicked his hand, a red mist contrasting Pomni’s usual blue appearing. It extended like a chain, wrapping round Kaufmo’s neck and pulling the clown towards him, forcing him to drop Pomni as she landed back onto the ground with a thud. “Pa!” she cried out, the others surrounding her.

“Let me make this perfectly clear Kaufmo,” Caine hissed, the chain tightening around the clown’s neck, suffocating him. “You are under my rules, you obey me. If I say jump, you jump. If you are tied to the back of a carriage while being dragged around on a rope, you will do just that. If you had to bleed out for an act with no one to assist you, you will continue with a smile and be damn pleased about it.”

Kaufmo coughed and spluttered, pulling at the misty chain to get the smallest breath of air, but Caine was too strong.

“Caine, stop! Stop please!” Pomni screamed, the others holding her back, “Let my Pa go!”

His eyes darted to the jester, his gaze making her feel tiny. He threw Kaufmo at a box of crates, the clown grunting at the painful impact. Pomni let out a cry, her hand reaching out to him.

Caine flicked his fingers again, lifting up the others and leaving Pomni on the ground to watch in terror. “You did this, you know,” Caine tsked.

Pomni’s eyes widened with terror, “W-what?”

“They all suffer because of your incompetence,” he growled, “You’re lucky you have a bit of talent and that little magic of yours, otherwise you would be a nothing-filled waste.”

“Caine, let them go, please,” Pomni begged, her lip quivering.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle before throwing each member in different directions of the tent. Sun hit his head against a pole, Ragatha tore one of her stitches as she landed on her knives and Gangle ribbons were tied up in knots when she landed face first on the ground, putting a crack in her mask.

Pomni covered her mouth, trying to stand yet her legs give way once again. She was too weak.

“Caine, what is the meaning of this?” Moon’s startled voice echoed throughout the tent, gasping when she saw everyone scattered around and furrowed her brows when she saw Pomni’s dishevelled form on the ground. “You have to put a stop to your madness, look at what you’re doing to everyone! Look at what you’re doing to that poor girl!”

“This is merely discipline, Moon, I’m doing whatever it takes to make sure a circus is successful,” Caine muttered, barely paying her any mind.

Moon could even barely recognise the man in front of her, “What happened to you Caine?”

He turned to her slowly, “Come again?”

“What happened to the man I fell in love with?” she continued, “What happened to the promises you made to make this circus amazing? What happened to trying no matter what? What happened to the man I fell in love with?”

Caine scoffed, “I did what I had to do in order to make these dreams happen. You could never understand sacrifice Moon, you believe what you want to believe but this is the way things are.”

Moon’s eyes darkened, she started stomping towards him, “You…you vile, disgusting, monstrous-!”

He snapped his fingers, an axe appearing in his hand as he held it to her chin, daring her to come closer. “Just because I’m soft on you Moon, it doesn’t mean that I won’t take precautions for you stepping out of line,” he glared at her.

But Moon was unflinching, staring him down with the same coldness he gave her, “Do your worst.”

Caine hummed, giving her a shrug, “Fine.”

He waved his hand again, sending the axe into her shoulder. An agonised screech echoed throughout the tent as a group of his masked men rushing in and pulling her away. “You’re lucky dear, this is me sparing you,” Caine sneered, “But make no mistake, I will be dealing with you accordingly.”

Moon screeched as she was dragged away, her eyes looking on with worry at the frightened Jester. “Run Pomni!” she screamed, “Run!”

She wanted to, Pomni really wanted to. But fear had paralysed her when Caine set his eyes on her again. Tears leaked from her eyes, feeling like the five-year-old girl he grabbed from the street the moment he caught of whiff of her power. “Caine, don’t do this,” she sniffed, “I’ll be better, I’ll practice more, I’ll stop singing just please don’t do this.”

“You know, I never did understand your silly little songs,” he mumbled, “You waste so much time on them yet you know the real reason the audience comes to see you, and it isn’t to hear those tacky lyrics of yours. You know exactly what you’re good for.”

That part stung. Yes she knew that her skills as a trapeze artist and her abilities was what got tickets to sell, but her songs were her passion. Her songs were her, something that Caine hadn’t been able to take away yet. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that her songs were everything! But she was still too frail, and she was certain that it was only going to get worse.

“Caine please, I’m still recovering from last time and we have another show tonight!” she back away, kicking her legs as she crawled backwards on the ground. “Please don’t do this it…it hurts.”

“All good sacrifices come with pain Pomni,” Caine told her, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the amulet. “You should be thanking me for using this gift, I’m the one who’s actually putting it to good use.”

He held the amulet in front of him, Pomni’s eyes pleading for mercy. “Now my little possession,” he grinned, “It’s time for me to receive my gift.”

The amulet glowed, a loud whine leaving its source.

Pomni could feel her blood boiling, her head pounding and every part of her body shattering with pain when she felt her energy being ripped away from her. Her blue mist was forced away from her, being sealed away into the amulet as Caine looked on with greed.

It hurt, it hurt so much. Her skin was burning as though she had been lit up into a thousand flames, her hair being ripped from her scalp, and she was bleeding out of every pore of her body. She wanted it to stop, it hurts, just stop, please stop, STOP, STOP, STOP!

A pained scream ripped from her throat.

(2)

.

.

.

Pomni woke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. Her head whipped from side to side, scanning her surroundings in a dazed panic. She wasn’t in that lifeless tent anymore with that cruel ringmaster. She was in the castle, she was safe, and she was far away from him.

She let out a sniffle, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight as she buried her face into them. A few stray tears leaked onto the sheets, her sobs muffled against the blanket. That was the worst thing about her nightmares, they weren’t just that but memories too. It was real and it had happened. All they did was make her relive it over and over again.

Kaufmo told her many times that it wasn’t her fault for what Caine did, that his actions were his own doing. But seeing the repeated moments of her family being hurt over and over again just to protect her only made her guilt increase. Maybe Caine was right. Maybe it was her fault.

She took a deep breath, sitting upright and wiping the wetness off her cheeks. That was the past, there was no need to be self-pitiful about it now. She shouldn’t waste time fussing over stupid memories that only brought everyone else down the longer she thought about them. She just needed to get up and go throughout the day, push everything back until she’s able to manage it on her own.

Pomni swung her legs over her bed, going over to clean herself in the sink inside the connected bathroom, before moving behind the screen the maids gave her to change into a new dress she was given. She first pulled over a simple cream shift over her head, the silky fabric gliding over her skin. Next was a simple blue stays and puffy skirt, with two red hearts on each side of the skirt and ribbon of the same colour in a criss-cross pattern in the middle of her stays, with the bottom of the skirt being layered with red and white trim.

She did a onceover in the mirror as she pulled the strings off the stays shut, giving herself a quick nod before finally exiting her room.

Part of her wanted to bury back under the soft sheets of her bed, to hide whatever the day had to await her, her nightmare clawing at the back of her mind. But the moment she saw Prince Jax outside her door waiting for her, all doubts instantly vanished as a true and natural smile tugged at her lips.

“A good morning to you Prince Jax,” she greeted, giggling as Motley immediately jumped into her arms and climbed onto her shoulder, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Only your smile little lady,” he grinned, eating up the little blush that dusted across her cheeks. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here. My parents asked me to collect you, they have an announcement for you and the rest of your family in the throne room.”

His brows were furrowed and face serious, this had to be a serious matter.

“Oh, lead the way then,” she said, anxiety started to grip at her again.

Jax sensed her apprehension, scooping her arm up and linking it with his, “Don’t worry, no matter what it is we’ll be able to figure it out. Promise.”

How does he do that? How does someone with the type of reputation that made her want to keep the farthest distance away from him as possible, say the simplest yet heartwarming things that might her heart spark? And how did he say it so honestly that she had to believe him? She cleared her throat, giving him a little smirk, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Princey.”

His eyes were unchanging, still soft as he placed his other hand over her and rubbed his thumb over her fingers, “I don’t. You’re too important to risk.”

Pomni felt her heart skip a beat. If it weren’t for Motley purring against her ear, she wouldn’t have anything to ground herself from floating up to cloud nine. Her grip on his hand tightened, whispering, “Good.”

With a gentle smile and a steady hand, he led her out of the hallway and made their way to the throne room. Neither of them felt the need to run down the halls like they usually did, that experience would be for another type of day. For this day, the slow steady pace down the long halls of the palace was what the two of them needed. The comfortable silence of each other’s company was enough for both of them, not a single word had to be spoken. Was this what it would be like for Pomni if she were to stay? Just peace? No worries about what or who could come after her? That she could be free to express herself in any form she wished for, song, dance, art, speech? Where her powers would be hers and hers alone without the fear of them being used for someone else’s selfish exploitations? And where she could finally allow herself to open up to the idea of love? To spend her days with someone who would listen to anything and everything she had to say. To feel safe in the loving embrace of another. And she and Jax could live their days in nothing but peaceful bliss…

…Oh…OH!...oh…

Electricity struck through Pomni as the realisation dawned on her.

She had fallen in love with the prince.

Jax looked down at the jester once he felt her grip loosen on his, concern curling through him when he saw the worried look on her face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly, capturing her attention as she blinked up at him. “I know that this whole ‘being called to the throne room’ thing seems pretty daunting, but trust me, there’s nothing to be afraid of. My parents always have a plan, so no matter what happens, I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded, giving him a soft smile before they continued walking. How she wished that were the reason why she suddenly felt so down. But no. She loved Jax, she had fallen so hard for him. But she didn’t have the luxury to stay with him. Someone like her couldn’t afford to love.

Bury it down, she inhaled deeply, don’t ruin this, not like everything else.

She wanted to enjoy this as much as she could before anything else could happen.

The throne room already had a small audience, consisting of the rest of the circus while Kinger and Queenie sat ahead of them on their thrones. The king and queen shared a nervous yet hopeful look, two emotions that could go either way depending on what the topic of conversation that were about to have. It only made the prince and jester all the more nervous.

“Thank you for joining us Pomni, I’m glad that our son is being a good host to you,” Queenie greeted, bowing her head to the girl.

“Well, he has become a very good friend to me over the past few days,” Pomni gave the prince a smile before focusing back on the queen, “If you don’t mind me asking your majesty, but why have you summoned us all here?”

“Hey, it’s okay kiddo,” Kaufmo walked up to her. Pomni detached her arm from Jax’s to put her hands in her father’s, the rabbit already missing the warmth of her touch. “They’ve already informed us that there is nothing to worry about.”

Pomni exhaled shakily, nodding. Though her nerves would get the best of her at times, Kaufmo’s voice was always something that kept her slightly grounded ever since she was a child. Even Motley’s purring added to that as well. With a final breath, she turned to the king and queen, ready to hear whatever they had to say.

Kinger cleared his throat, rising from his throne, “As you know, we’ve had our guards roam outside of our kingdom to make sure that Caine or his men haven’t been planning another invasion. Well, we’ve just had a report back and they’ve told us that the outer realm has been clear of them since the last attack.”

“We’ve told them to do one last surveillance before their final report, just to make sure that Caine isn’t lurking,” Queenie continued, “However, since there’s not been any sightings, we believe that it is safe for you to continue with your travels.”

 “So, how long do you determine that we stay in the castle?” Ragatha asked, “During the last surveillance.”

“Unless anything else comes back, I’d say you should stay at least one more week before you believe that you should go,” Queenie confirmed.

Several of the cast members let out a sigh of relief, the anxiety of Caine’s lurking washing away at the thought of being free to travel again. Though a bittersweetness hung in the air. The kingdom had been nothing but supportive and accommodating to them in their time of need. What was supposed to be a short time here to entertain the subjects here had turned into the kindest experience any of them had ever received in their entire lives.

For Pomni? While the thought of seeing new places (and being as far away from Caine as possible) thrilled her to her core. For the first time in her life, she actually wanted to stay. Don’t get her wrong, she still had her dreams of travelling the realms, to let audiences hear her songs - not watch her acts or witness her powers, but to listen to her songs. To listen to her singing. To listen to her.

But if she closed her eyes for a moment, only a moment, she wanted to let herself pretend. Pretend that she had a place here, to wake up in the morning and plan to do whatever she pleased, to go out into town and greet the other people of the kingdom as though she were one of them too. To sing in the town centre for whoever wanted to stop and hear her.

And perhaps, in the far back of her mind, she would go up to the castle and be greeted by a pair of yellow eyes and a Cheshire grin. Where he would take her hands into his and ask about her day, stroll in the gardens with her as he listened to whatever plans she wanted to venture. To listen to the songs that she only reserved for him and him alone. And until the midnight sky, watching the stars twinkle amongst the inky blanket of the nightly heavens, he would hold her in his arms, a silent promise that he would always love her. No matter what.

But now, she realised that there was no way to have that fantasy be real. Yes, Caine wasn’t spotted by any of the guards, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still out there. Still waiting for the chance to strike and get his hands on her and her powers. As long as Caine was after her, she could never have the life she dreamed of living.

Jax looked over the side of his shoulder, worry striking him when he saw Pomni’s crestfallen expression and the glazed look in her eyes. While he was sad that she was leaving (and deep down prayed that she could stay), a part of him believed that there would be some joy in the fact that she could finally be free to leave. He knew that something was wrong, “Pomni, what’s wrong?”

Pomni wanted to cry right there and then at how kind his words sounded, at how far the prince had come from the stereotype she expected from him. Why couldn’t she just keep hating him, why did he charm and endear her so much that she had to fall in love with him! It could have made everything so much easier. She wanted to tell him how much she wanted to stay, tell him all of the potential plans she could have had here, and how much she wanted him to be part of them. But the words kept getting stuck in her throat, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her neck, silencing her from making any word that would ruin Jax too.

“However,” Kinger’s voice rang through the room. “There is one last thing we would like to do before you all take your leave.”

Pomni didn’t know whether to feel eased or frustrated at the sudden interruption.

“We would like to host a ball in your honour near the end of the week,” Queenie announced, “To thank you for all that you have done here.”

“For what we’ve done?” Ragatha titled her head in confusion, “Your majesty, you and your family are the ones who took care of us in our time of need?

Queenie eyes softened, a glimmer of a smile flickering in her gaze. A kind look that Jax knew all too well from his mother. “Yes, you and your family may have been under our care,” Queenie confirmed, “But it does not take away from the fact that you have all been an incredible presence in our kingdom. You have brought smiles to everyone, not just from your performances, but by simply being your best true selves for everyone to see. Even if you didn’t bring your tricks or talents, the moment you stepped out into town you all saw the world as authentic and beautiful, that’s what brought our subjects to you. That mind view is an incredible ability to possess, you’re lucky. Many people lack it. That’s why we want to celebrate you, for all of you cherishing the kindness that our kingdom was built upon. Doing that is the greatest thing our foreigners and travellers can do, that is why the entire kingdom is invited, so they can say one more final thank you and goodbye for all that you have done for us.”

Each member looked to one another, like a sparkler had been lit within their souls as they grinned at the prospect of a ball. Neither one of them had been to one before, mostly they would stay as long as they would need to in the town they were performing in, do the performance they rehearsed day and night to do before finally leaving up the time their shows were finished. They had only heard what happened at balls through whispers of stories from the other common folk. And now they could finally be a part of one.

Excited murmurs broke out between them, wondering what they could wear, where they could get their garments, what colours they should choose, what type of jewellery they would wear if they decided to wear them at all. There was just so many choices in so little time! It was all so amazing!

Pomni felt herself smiling. A ball. Like everyone else, she had never been to one. But Kaufmo’s fairytales left so many fantasies in her mind. When she was a teenager - after a rough night of performing and dealing with Caine’s wrath - she would dream about being at a ball, wearing the loveliest gown while dancing under the stars. Sometimes those dreams would include a handsome prince or princess sweeping her off her feet, taking her far away from all that hurt her.

She looked to Jax. She may be leaving after the end of the week, but it was still one night to have all her dreams come true. Even if it would only last for so long. “So,” she lightly nudged Jax’s shoulder, “I’m guessing you already have a plus one to bring to the ball. A princess no doubt.”

“Well I am planning on asking someone,” Jax confirmed. Pomni felt her face fall a bit, a little piece of her was hoping he would ask her. Huh, she never expected that thought to enter her mind. “She might not be a princess, but she has the spirit of one for sure.”

“Oh,” Pomni fiddled with her ring finger, “Well, she’s lucky if you’re the one who’s wanting to ask her.”

“I’m the lucky one if she says yes little lady,” he grinned, “Or rather, if you say yes.”

Pomni’s head snapped up.

“You really think I wouldn’t be asking you?” Jax chuckled, “Did you not see what I was like when I met you? Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought before I heroically saved you.”

“Shut up,” she shoved his lightly in the chest, unable to stop her own laughter from joining his. “I’ve never been to a ball hosted by royalty, I thought since you’re the prince that it was required for you to ask a princess or a noble to join you.”

“Maybe in other kingdoms,” he nodded, “But here, you’re the only lady I want by my side that night.” His breath wavered as his face went serious. His hands slightly shaky as he prepared himself for his next question. Years of his ego being his defining personality trait, to be able to get away with the most rioting pranks and wild parties, it all melted away when asking the girl of his dreams to a simple ball.

And this was the same prince who revelled in the promise of danger.

“Pomni,” he began, taking her hand still on his chest into his own, lacing their fingers together. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the ball?”

She squeezed his hand, her stomach doing an excited little flip as she answered, “I’d love to.” The jester heard a disgruntled cough coming from behind her, and by Jax’s pale expression, she could tell who it was. She turned, coming face to face with Kaufmo, Ragatha and Moon, each of them wearing a stern look on their faces. “Pa, it’s okay. He asked and I agreed.”

“Don’t worry kiddo, I know you did. I trust you,” Kaufmo replied reassuringly to his daughter. “I just have a warning for the prince.”

Jax gulped at the three cold stares coming from the trio, if looks could kill then he was fairly sure he would be singing with the angels right about now. “Let me make this very clear,” Kaufmo began, “If Pomni is even slightly sad at the ball because of you, then I have no hesitation to let Ragatha use you as cat food for her lions.”

The ragdoll nodded, glaring at him with all her might. Moon didn’t even have to say anything, but the way she stood with Ragatha was enough to tell him that she had no problem assisting the redhead. He whipped his head to his parents, who hadn’t uttered a word during this whole ordeal.

“Don’t look at me,” Queenie put her hands up. “I’m not the one to judge a father for being protective over his daughter. Besides, he has a right to be wary of you darling.”

Jax shrugged with a nod, he couldn’t disagree there. He looked back at Pomni, her cheeks slightly flushed with a humoured smile on her lips after that whole interaction. How did she manage to look so beautiful in every way? He probably had a lovesick look on his face again, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because this was her, nothing else mattered. “Well in that case,” he picked up her hand again, revelling in the way her cheeks flushed even more, “I can’t wait to see you there, my little lady.” He pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, forcing himself not to laugh as he heard a silent squeal erupting from the back of her throat.

“A-and, I-I,” Pomni cleared her throat, straightening her back again and regaining the calmness she had before. “And I you, your highness.” She then enclosed his hand in both her palms, with the upmost gentleness she started running her thumb over his fingers, like he had done so with her hand earlier. All without breaking eye contact with him, she smirked when it was his turn for him to get all flustered.

She let go, giving him a small curtsy, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m fairly certain that the rest of the ladies and non-gender affirming friend are going to drag me to help them find ballgowns soon.”

Jax spluttered, trying to find the words that were in his head a few seconds ago. How on earth did this tiny powerful woman have this much of a hectic effect on him only from touching his hand?! “Y-yeah, I’m pretty sure my father will be doing that but for me,” he wasn’t able to focus on anything but the faint tingling of where her fingers had been on his hand, sending little shocks up the nerves on his arm. He flexed his hand, letting his fingers stretch to see if it would make any difference. The tingling only increased, his fur fluffing up at his neck at the reaction. He huffed fondly, worth it. “I look forward to seeing how beautiful you look.”

She raised her brow at him, rolling her eyes as he chuckled. He was always just so him wasn’t he? But it’s also why you fell in love with him, isn’t it? She sighed, yes, it was. In the amount of since she met him, he had become a far cry of what she believed him to be from the tales she heard. He had proven to be kind, noble and brave. Though still a little bit of a trickster, a good man and a good prince with a tender heart was all she could see. And soon she would have to leave all that behind.

She opened her mouth to say something, she wanted to say something, but she found herself being pulled away by Ragatha, Moon, Gangle and Zooble. Just like she had suspected, they were pulling her away to start dress shopping. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our conversation later!” she called out to Jax, looking over her shoulder while Motley jumped out of her arms and trotted back to the prince as she was dragged out of the ballroom.

Jax laughed at the scene in front of him, picking up the kitten and placing him on his shoulder, “I look forward to it.”

Pomni gave him one final smile, before joining in with the excited chatter with the rest of the ladies and Zooble.

However, once she was out of sight, did Jax let himself frown. The girl seemed so strangely down all morning, quieter and more reserved, less of the usual spunk than he had come to expect. Had something happened? Did he do something to offend her? Whatever it was he should at least try and make it up to her.

“You’re overthinking,” A familiar voice murmured. Jax turned to face his father walking towards him.

“I inherited it from you, old man,” the prince snickered. Kinger’s face didn’t move an inch, not willing to change the topic of conversation just yet. Jax sighed, “I’m worried about Pomni. She hasn’t really been herself much this morning. I didn’t want to pry into what it is cause its none of my business and I don’t wanna push her, she already felt pretty stressed out when she told me about her past. I don’t wanna add anymore onto that. But I can tell that something’s wrong, and I hate feeling helpless. I just want to protect her.”

Kinger hummed. He had heard this monologue many decades ago from when he was around Jax’s age. He should know, for Kinger was the one who said it too. “When I fell in love your mother, I was a wreck,” the king began. “Despite going round in circles to think of a way to win her heart, I also had other thoughts in my head as well. I worried that I could never protect her the way I wanted to, she could be sad for only a moment and I would panic that I had done something to hurt her. But when he married and grew together, I had to realise that I wasn’t a magical knight from a story book. Even with my crown I was only a man who loved his wife deeply. It hurts when we have to come to turns that we cannot protect everyone – including the ones we love – but no matter what we still try. We try because we know that it’s better for them to be in our lives than to lose them. We can do what we can and that’s all right, for what is love than the desire to guard what we care for the most?”

Clarity never hit Jax harder than it did right here in this moment. He lifted the hand that Pomni touched again, shifting his fingers where hers had been. His father was right. Even the biggest dam in all of the world would never be able to stop a crack, letting a flood release. And even if he wanted to, he knew that there were bigger forces out there who would do nothing but take Pomni for themselves. He squeezed his hand into a fist, but they would have to kill him first before ever hurting Pomni ever again. Even if he were to fall, her safety would forever and always come first for him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “It is.”

Kinger felt warmth radiate through him, it had been so long since he heard that part of his son speak so earnestly. He missed him, “Come now, it’s time we get you fitted. I’m sure you’ll want to look your best for your lady-friend at the ball.”

He snickered as he heard his son’s splutters, it was fun getting under Jax’s skin sometimes. A little petty revenge if that’s what you want to call it.

From the side, Kaufmo stood, hearing everything they had just said. For the first time, since Jax saved her, he was able to see clearly about what Pomni saw in the prince.

.

.

.

Pomni was panicking. Which wasn’t a complete shock. Tomorrow was the ball and she had spent the entire week helping everyone else pick out their gowns expect for herself. The ladies had insisted on finding what colour would flatter her the most, but she had turned away in favour of finding something for them, insisting that she would find a garment for herself soon. And yet, here she was. Gown-less and nearing a mental breakdown.

She groaned, honestly she blamed herself. She had been so caught up in the nightmares that she had and the future aftermath of the ball. Caine would always be breathing down her neck, something she would never be able to shake away even after they escaped from him the first time, and soon she would be returning to that fear. When she met Jax, somehow his foolishness and change in behaviour had been able to forget about her worries for a while, despite their first meeting. He only had to say one word and the rest of the world didn’t matter, it was just bliss. Soon, she wouldn’t have that anymore. She’d soon return to surviving for herself and her family, looking over her shoulder constantly to make sure a pair of blue and green eyes wouldn’t be staring back at her.

She just wanted to be selfish, just once and stay here. Stay with Jax, stay in the kingdom, stay in the life that she oh so wanted to have. But the thought of Caine harming Jax because of his obsession with her powers was a risk that she never wanted to take…after all, it was the same risk that her village was raided and burned to the ground.

How dare you think of that, how dare you even think about staying. You could lose everything just because of your entitlement you stupid girl! Pomni felt tears well up in her eyes, You’re selfish! Selfish! Selfish! Selfish! Selfish-

A knock at her door broke her away from her panic, wiping away her tears and smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. “Just coming!” she hoped her voice didn’t give away the fact that she had been crying.

She had expected either Ragatha or Kaufmo to show up at her door, so it was quite the shock when it was Queenie who had appeared, holding a large yet flat box under her arm. “Apologies, I don’t mean to intrude Pomni but I…Oh darling, what happened?” the queen asked, her brows furrowing with worry.

Pomni wanted to rub at her eyes again, to hide any evidence of her tears. But the queen had already put the box down and took the jester’s hands into hers, leaving Pomni unable to hide. “It’s nothing, your majesty,” Pomni brushed off her worries, “Please, don’t mind me, I’ll be okay.”

“Oh honey,” The queen wrapped her arms around the girl, “This is a safe place, your tears aren’t nothing. Whatever it is you’re feeling, don’t ever be afraid to say it.” 

Pomni typically wasn’t one for physical touch, usually it was reserved for those she was close with like Kaufmo or Ragatha – and now it included Jax. But this was different. Queenie’s warmth reminded her of a familiar touch that she had not received in a long time. A touch of a mother reassuring her child that everything was going to be okay. And though Pomni couldn’t remember her face, that small yet significant warmth from her mother stayed with the girl throughout her life. And now, she was receiving the same touch from Queenie, another mother who fiercely loved her son.

Pomni clutched onto the queen, her small body shaking with silent sobs. Queenie was patient and gentle the whole time, rubbing her hand up and down the jester’s back, shushing in her ear like how she did with Jax when he was young whenever he got scared or bruised his knee. She had only heard snippets from Jax about what the girl’s childhood what like, he didn’t tell her everything, after all, only Pomni could be the one to detail her past to another. But what she heard was enough for her to know that this poor girl had went through hell and back. She wasn’t surprised to see Jax so protective over her after their day at the village festival, whatever Pomni had told him there was enough for him to guard her with everything he had.

Once the girl was quiet, she pulled away, leaning into the queen’s touch when the latter lifted her hands to Pomni’s face and brushed her tears away. “Are you okay to tell me what wrong my dear?” Queenie asked, as kindly and patiently as she could.

Now Pomni understood how Jax was able to show kindness the way he did. “Is it…is it wrong for me wanting to stay?” Pomni spoke softly, as though a single wrong word would make everything crumble. “I love my family, and I’m so grateful for the hospitality that you’ve given us and I can’t wait to get back on the road again, but...I never had a real home in so long. That isn’t to mean Kaufmo and the others aren’t! They have always been my home. I’m just…I’m so tired of running. I’m tired of not being able to live a normal life and pursue my dreams because of the threat of one man. Your kingdom, that has been a home for me after so long. For the first time in my life I didn’t have to run, I could be safe in the knowledge that I was protected…and Jax. Your son has to be one of the sweetest people I have ever met, despite his reputation. But the thought of leaving here? It already makes me feel homesick thinking about it…I-I’m sorry your majesty I didn’t mean to overload you with all of that!”

Queenie had not spoken a word, letting Pomni take the time she needed in order to let out everything that was tying her down to the ground, like releasing her from being chained to a boulder. Pomni had more pages than the heaviest book in the world, each piece unfolding a new layer of her that made the queen’s heart ache for the girl. “My darling, I am queen of a kingdom where people need to unload on me,” Queenie told her. “It is my job to help those who cannot help themselves. Do not apologise for letting yourself feel. You might not be my subject, but that does not mean I will not take your problems seriously.”

Was this what having a mother was like? She wouldn’t trade Kaufmo for the world, but that never stopped the lingering curiosity of what her own mother would have been like. All she had left of her mother were blurry images in her mind, the powers she shared with her, and her love of music. If her mother was still here would she offer her the same comfort and security that Queenie did for her in only a few short moments? It was times like this, times her soul twinged with sorrow and doubt when she wished that her life was different. That it could be of her own making. She would be in her village, under the care and singing day and night with her mother, only traveling when she wanted to find new places to play her songs, meet the other members of the circus under different circumstances, and fall in love with Jax without having to worry about leaving him.

Why did life choose her to be so cruel to?

“Thank you, your majesty,” Pomni bowed her head in appreciation, “I’m sorry again for such a heavy topic.”

“You must learn to stop saying sorry, dear,” there was a joking tone in Queenie’s voice as she wagged her finger at Pomni, “Otherwise I’ll have to make a rule to ban you from saying it.”

Pomni laughed at that, tears of mirth pricking in the corners of her eyes instead.

Queenie’s eyes smiled, softening as her hands encased the jester’s again, “Not every bad thing that happens is your fault. Please hold onto that information for when you travel again…Pomni, it’s not my place but if you were to stay, we would be more than happy to protect you from Caine.”

Pomni’s face fell, “That’s the thing your majesty. Caine always comes up with new plans, if I stayed he wouldn’t stop terrorizing this kingdom until he gets what he wants, No one is powerful enough to stop him.”

“He managed to get arrested once,” Queenie pointed out, “He can be again.”

“He also managed to escape,” Pomni said, her face saddening once again. “You’d think someone with powers like mine that I could be able to do something. But even now, he still has a hand around my neck. I could be the strongest person alive yet I’d still be too scared to face him. You have…you have no idea what he put us through.” Her heart squeezed, she felt so damn pathetic.

“I don’t know what he’s done, but I do know that you didn’t deserve it,” Queenie told her. “Never feel ashamed for feeling afraid because of what that monster did to you. Do what makes you feel safest my darling, and if you ever want to come back our castle doors are always open.”

Pomni sniffed, a smile brightening her face once again, “Jax is lucky to have you.”

“And he’s lucky to have you too,” the queen teased, humming laughter as the jester started gasping and stuttering. “Now, speaking of Jax. I understand that he asked you to be his plus one for the ball. I hope it’s not inappropriate but I do have something that you could wear. If you don’t already.”

“I-I don’t,” Pomni’s jaw fell a little in surprise at the kind gesture. “You didn’t have to do that your majesty, not for me.”

“Nonsense,” Queenie shook her head, picking up the box from the ground and bringing it over to Pomni’s bed. “Every girl deserves to have something nice for themselves. Besides, I was hoping you would wear this.”

Pomni bit her lip, the queen had a pleading look in her eyes. Whatever was in that box, it was enough to convince the jester that whatever was in it held significant importance to the royal. “Okay, um, I’d like to look at it,” Pomni answered, fidgeting with her hands for a moment.

The queen lit up, like a sun shining in the jester’s direction as the chess piece’s fingers went lift up the lid of the box. As soon as it was removed, Pomni’s breath hitched at the contents on the inside. What laid in the box was nothing short of the twilight sky stitched and sewn together into a ballgown. It was too much, “Your majesty, I can’t have this! Someone like me shouldn’t wear this!”

“Someone like you is perfect for this gown,” Queenie stated. “It was a gift to me in my younger years, from a good friend of mine in another kingdom. She wanted me to wear this, saying that it would be worn when I was with my true love. I never had a chance to wear it, after all Kinger was already courting me and I didn’t feel good enough to wear it. Ironic, I know. However, something tells me that this dress wasn’t meant for me.” She looked away from the gown to face Pomni again. “But perhaps it was for you.”

“I…” Pomni was speechless, truly. The gown that laid in the box looked as though it was worth all the gems in the realm, if she were to wear that, she would literally be wearing that costed millions. Yet the queen believed that it was perfect for her. She had said it so earnestly that Pomni couldn’t find it in herself to turn it away. “Thank you, your majesty,” Pomni bowed, “I promise to take care of it during the ball.”

“As long as you’re having fun as yourself, then that’s all I care about,” the queen told her. “Now, let me help you get ready. I have an idea on what makeup would go well with that gown.”

Pomni giggled as the queen rushing over to her vanity at the other end of the room. Pomni ran her fingers over the gown’s fabric, perhaps she was worth more than what she believed.

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.

.

Jax pulled at the collar of his shirt. His suit was nowhere near uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop the anxiety coursing through his veins. The suit in question was consisted of a long navy-blue waistcoat, with ruby embroidery along the lapels and cuffs with matching trousers with the same crimson detailed design. Underneath the button coat was a white blouse with a ruffled collar and a pendant on top, with the final addition of his outfit being a red rose tucked into his breast pocket.

Why was he so nervous you ask? It was all because of Pomni. She had yet to arrive, and though the ball hadn’t started yet, both guests and the circus group had already flooded the ballroom. He hadn’t seen any of the nobles yet, well, the nobles that he normally couldn’t stand. When asking his parents about the matter, they had merely shrugged with a mischievous glint in their eyes, yet it told Jax exactly what they did. And they’re still surprised by the fact that I turned out to be a trickster he grinned to himself.

His hands were shaking. What if something happened to her while she was getting ready? What is she hurt herself and wasn’t able to attend? What if Caine somehow managed to get into the castle and swiped her away?! Oh god he had to go get her-!

“Relax prince boy,” a hand grabbed him by the back of his coat, dragging him back before he could run off. He scowled, turning to see who did that, when he came face to face with Gangle and Zooble. The girl he had rudely pushed upon their first meeting, and her justifiably angry partner. “Pomni’s fine, Gangle went to check up on her a while ago.”

“How did you know I was thinking about Pomni?” he questioned, raising a brow.

“Gee, it’s not like you’ve been spending every waking moment glued to her side ever since she came here,” Zooble replied sarcastically, rolling their eyes at the rabbit’s question.

“Zooble,” Gangle hissed, “Be nice, please.” The body of ribbons looked back at him, not as upset as he thought she would be after their interaction when they met. She was wearing a sleeveless gown the same colour as her ribbons, with a full skirt and rubies sewn atop of it. Zooble was wearing a suit of the same colour, no doubt wanting to match his sweet girlfriend. “Pomni will be here soon, your mother kinda overwhelmed her while getting ready.”

The prince sighed. “Of course she did,” he shook his head fondly at Queenie’s direction, the woman was laughing with her husband at whatever joke he had come up with. He looked back to Gangle, who was looking up at Zooble with nothing but love in her eyes, the other doing the same. He hadn’t apologised to her for what he did, yet she still talked to him as though he had only brushed her shoulder on that day. He wouldn’t blame her if she were to be as upset as their hot-headed partner, yet she didn’t. That only made the guilt sting all the more.

She deserved an apology. “Listen, uh, Gangle right?” he asked, making the ribboned lady look up at him with worried eyes. She probably thought that he was going to be mean to her again, it only rubbed more salt into the wound. Jax was sure Zooble was going to kill him right there and then with the way she was glaring at him. He gulped, “Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I treated you when we met. It was ignorant and entitled of me to do that to you and how I treated Pomni as well. I genuinely care for your friend and I’m extremely ashamed of how poorly I was to you. I deeply apologize.”

There was shift in the way Gangle looked at him, she didn’t look as worried as she was before, her posture was straighter as she gazed at him with intent in her mind. “Thank you for your apology your highness,” she replied, “Though I’m still not happy with you pushing me, I’m glad you’re able to realise the error of your ways.”

“Of course,” he nodded, “And please, call me Jax. If I’m going to make a fresh start, I would like if you could call me by my name.”

Gangle smiled, a new determination flickering when she saw this new side of the prince, “Very well, thank you Jax.”

“I’m still onto you,” Zooble growled. “But…I’m glad you’re not a total dickhead…you’re still pretty dumb though.”

“Zooble!” Gangle hissed.

A snort escaped from Jax, surprising the couple when a loud belly laugh boomed throughout the ballroom. The laugh lacked any type of maliciousness or was mean-spirited, it was just a hearty yet a pure and honest carefree laugh. “They-” he snickered, “They aren’t wrong! I haven’t had the brightest ideas in my lifetime.”

Both the body of ribbons and the assortment of shapes were a little surprised by the prince’s reaction. They were fairly certain that he would have made some sort of passive aggressive comment or even get angry at Zooble. But no. It was the same sort of laugh that one of them would have whenever Kaufmo told one of his better jokes or when they all had fun as a family. Zooble smirked, “See Gangle, princey doesn’t mind.”

Gangle groaned, rolling her eyes, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Hmmm, love me forever?” Zooble retorted cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If I have to,” Gangle couldn’t keep the grin off her face, resting her head onto Zooble’s shoulder.

Jax’s laughter ebbed away, a softness lacing his heart. That tenderness and comfort the couple shared with one another, he couldn’t help but imagine it with him and Pomni. To let her feel safe with him no matter what, to share sweet moments with him with no other prying eyes. But after tonight, she’ll be gone, along with his wish for all of that. All this because of a power-hungry man who kept her in a state of fright ever since childhood, it wasn’t fair for someone as sweet as Pomni.

“Ah, I see the prince has graced our presence,” a soft voice spoke. He looked up to see that it was Ragatha’s voice he had heard, with Sun and Moon by her side and Kaufmo trailing behind her. She looked towards Gangle and Zooble, “He hasn’t given you two any trouble, has he?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Zooble said, “He came over to apologise to Gangle.”

Ragatha raised a brow, shifting a little bit in her place, as if this were a small shock to her. “Did he know?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Zooble nodded, what they said next made it look like they were going to hurl just having to form it into words. “I guess I was…wrong about him. Oh god I hated saying that.” 

“Oh,” was all Ragatha said. The doll in question was wearing a backless gown of midnight blue, sleek and sparkling, no puffiness in sight as long skirt trailed behind her. She wore long silky white gloves and half of her curls were pinned up into a bun while the other red locks pooled around her shoulders.

Moon was wearing something similar, though hers was pure black with little stars stitched onto the fabric, with a double leg slit and a feathered scarf around her shoulders. Sun was wearing a red and yellow striped waistcoat and trousers, along with a simple white blouse and a black bowtie wrapped around the collar.

Lastly was Kaufmo, whose waistcoat and trousers were sewn with a fine grey silk with what seemed to be music notes embroidered into the lapels and cuffs. He pulled at the collar a few times, he hadn’t worn something like this before so it was a bit new to him. But he looked happy with his new attire.

“Well,” Ragatha’s voice broke Jax out of his trance again, “I’m glad you weren’t up to anything foolish, after all I still have two very hungry lions.”

“Don’t forget the meat cleaver you have darling,” Moon pointed out, “It would be such a shame to see such a lovely tool go to waste.”

“Uh…and I’m here!” Sun cheered, not wanting to be left out. While it did relieve some of the tension, it didn’t stop Jax from shrinking under the glares of the women.

“While I support your protection over my daughter,” Kaufmo interrupted, placing a hand on Ragatha’s shoulder, “Let’s wait until the prince does anything before charging headfirst. Besides, something tells me that he would want to join in with that protection as well.” The clown gave Jax a knowing wink. “But make no mistake, you hurt her and not even the guards will stop Ragatha and Moon with what they want to do with you.”

Jax gulped, “Understood, sir.” Despite the obvious threat, the fact that he had Kaufmo’s acknowledgement about how much he cared for Pomni made Jax want to sing. The clown trusted the prince, and Jax wasn’t going to let him down. Pomni mattered to him just as much as she mattered to Kaufmo, there was no way he was going to break that trust.

“I’m surprised that little Motley cat isn’t with you,” Sun said, “Other than Pomni, you two are practically glued together.”

Jax was about to open his mouth to say another word, until a small mew interrupted him. The group looked at him with wide eyes, the sound not going unnoticed. The rabbit sighed, reaching into the side of his coat pocket and pulled Motley out, the little kitten wearing a blue bowtie around his neck.

Everyone’s mouth fell open, it was quite the sight indeed.

“This little bugger insisted that he should join me tonight,” Jax defended.

“Right, a non-speaking animal somehow managed to convince you to let him come to the ball,” Zooble drawled with doubt.

Jax frowned, though he didn’t feel mad. So far, everything was going well. The guests were happy, he had Motley in his arms, there were no sign of the nobles, the music was lovely, the food was delicious, his parents were delighted and he had won over the favour of the circus group. All that was missing is-

“-Pomni,” Kaufmo’s eyed widened as he gazed up to the staircase leading out of the ballroom.

The rest of the group followed the clown’s eyes, their own jaws dropping when they say who he was looking at. The rest of the ballroom had gone silent as well, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Jax whipped round, wondering why everyone was reacting the way they did…oh…he understood perfectly now.

Pomni stood at the top of the staircase, the only way to describe how she looked was breathtaking. Her gown was the most beautiful shade of purple, startling at a light pinkish lavender at the top as it faded into an amethyst shade in the middle before finishing in a plum shade at the bottom. Her skirt was full, layered with organza, rippling like raindrops on a pond. The top of the gown had off-the-shoulder sleeves with a sweetheart neckline, with glistening gem at the centrepiece. And the whole gown twinkled with little diamonds stitched into the fabric. She wore simple makeup, with her normally short hair curled and now reaching her shoulder as it gleamed under the chandeliers.

She clenched her hands, there were so many eyes on her. She didn’t have the façade of her jester persona to help her out, it was only her they were all looking at. Gathering herself, she managed a small curtsey, the shimmering layers of her skirt pooling around her. She stood again, her gown swishing as she made her way down the steps.

Jax couldn’t wipe the awestruck grin he had on his face even if he tried. Not even the stars could compare with how beautiful she looked. He handed Motley over to Kaufmo, “Sir, if you may. Could I please lead your daughter for the first dance?”

Kaufmo smiled, running his hand over the kitten’s back as he purred, “Go on, give her a dream come true.”

Not wasting a beat, Jax turned back to Pomni. He wasn’t sure if he saw him yet, so ever so slowly, he made his way towards her, the rest of the guests parting to let him through.

They had done the same with Pomni, giving her the room she needed yet not being able to take their eyes off her. A little part of her liked the attention, they weren’t drawn to her for powers or the act she had to put on, they were drawn to her for simply being her. This new feeling was strange, but nice…really nice.

She let out a small gasp when she finally saw Jax, how handsome he looked in his garments and how he looked at her as though she were the only person in the room. Her heart fluttered seeing him, making her way towards him as he did the same. Finally they met in the middle of the room, the only ones in the middle of the ballroom floor, their eyes locked onto one another.

“Prince Jax,” she breathed.

“My lady,” his voice held nothing but adoration for her. “You look absolutely exquisite.”

“I’ve been praying all day not to trip in this,” she whispered, “I think I would perish if I ruined something as lovely as this.”

  “That would be a shame, you look too beautiful in it,” Jax murmured, “Um. Pomni, would you do me the honour of letting me lead you through this first…” he trailed off. Could you blame him? She was positively stunning.

“…Dance?” she finished for him, a small grin forming on her lips.

“Uh, yes of course, dance,” he stuttered, laughing awkwardly.

Pomni took pity on him, nodding excitedly. Call her childish, but it was nothing short of magical that she actually got to dance like the princesses she read about in fairytales.

Jax’s face fell, a serious look took over yet his eyes were still soft as he brought his hand forward, pulling Pomni closer to him. The girl’s breath hitched, with these newfound feelings she had for Jax, it made this touch all the more significant. A shiver ran down her spine.

The music of the orchestra began, filling the ballroom with the sounds of the many violinists and pianists’ instruments, a soft yet heavenly tune echoing in the room. Ever so gently, Jax began to sway, with Pomni repeating his movements. Pomni gulped as he led her further into the dance, she could feel everyone’s stares despite having her back to them. Who wouldn’t? After all, she was the prince’s choice to lead the first dance with. “They’re all looking at you,” she whispered.

“Believe me,” he grinned, “They’re all looking at you.”

Normally she would have panicked at that sentence, but the gentle grasp of his warm hand on her waist kept her attention on him. He picked up her forearm with his, letting it glide up and down, “Just focus on me, okay? And follow my lead.”

Pomni nodded, her once quickening heart slowing down as she gazed into his eyes. He took her hand, carefully spinning her before she held she gently grazed the knuckles of said hand against his cheek. He threaded his fingers through her, spinning her again as the skirts of her gown fluttered around her, giving her the appearance of a butterfly.

The repeated the range of movements a few more times before Jax wrapped his arm around her waist again, pulling her closer than he did before, their noses inches from each other as he clasped his free hand into hers again. Pomni’s breath stuttered as their feet travelled around the empty space, never in her life had she felt anything so surreal, so euphoric in all her life. A carefree laugh escaped her lips as both she and Jax spun again, the prince doing the same as the picture of her lovely smile imprinted into his mind again.

He released the grip on her waist to twirl her onto the empty space on the floor, the rest of the crowd aweing at the way her gown glittered each time she spun left and right while holding onto Jax’s hand.

Not even the rest of the circus troupe could erase the butterflies they were having just by the way the prince and the jester looked at one another. It was right out of a love story. “I can’t disagree, they would make a beautiful couple,” Kaufmo remarked, with Motley letting out an agreeable mew in his arms.

“I suppose so,” Ragatha nodded, “As long as he doesn’t hurt her.”

“Don’t worry my dears, rest assured that my son would never do the following,” Queenie told them as she and Kinger snuck up behind the group.

“Your majesties,” Ragatha gasped, the rest of them quickly bowing, “Please forgive me for saying that.”

“Oh that’s alright,” Queenie snickered, “Jax has caused one too many incidents to have a reputation that’s worth your worry.”

“Though I will say, your Pomni has him wrapped around her finger,” Kinger mused as he watched the due dancing on the floor. “I haven’t seen this side of my son in so long, until your daughter arrived Kaufmo.”

“Pomni has always found a way to bright the best out in others,” Kaufmo told them, “Whether they know she’s doing it or not.”

Kinger hummed in agreement, “I can confidently say that without a doubt, this is the best ball this kingdom has ever seen.” Kaufmo nodded, the two fathers turning to look back at their children, smiling at seeing how happy they were together.

Jax had twirled Pomni a few times, still holding her by the waist until he picked her up in both arms and held her high up above him, twirling her in the air as the crowd oo’ed and clapped for the sudden display. Though it was silent compared to the chimes of her giggles at the sudden motions, bringing her back down to face level. Neither of them could stop glancing at each other’s lips, the temptation to swoop down and capture them growing stronger.

Before he could give into it, he saved himself by dipping Pomni once more time as the music slowed. It was for the best, she would be leaving tomorrow. He didn’t want to sour things more for her, not when they had come so far. He could tell by the way she was looking at him that she was silently agreeing, what they had right now was good, good enough in fact.

The music slowed to a stop, with Pomni curtsying and Jax bowing respectively as the crowd thunder into applause. The first dance of the night was a success.

They allowed themselves to breathe for a movement, unable to take their eyes off each other before the music started up again, more fun and livelier than the last. More couples ran onto the floor, including the king and queen as they chortled together while reminiscing how they used to dance when they were younger. Gangle had pulled Zooble onto the floor, squealing with excitement at the thought of dancing with her partner. Even Moon and Ragatha had decided to dance together, the latter shocked when her friend took her hand and led her into a dance.

Pomni and Jax were still together, and quite frankly, they didn’t see themselves dancing with anyone but with one another. And so, they danced again. And again, and again, and again…

After a few songs, they did have to stop eventually, panting heavily and needing food as well as drink. “I must say, you dance pretty good for someone so short,” Jax snickered, handing her a glass of water.

“Shut up, I’m just glad you didn’t stand on my dress,” Pomni retorted, giggling into her glass. She gulped down as much as she could, especially with what she was planning to do next. “Do you mind waiting for a second? There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Oh, of course, is everything alright?” he asked as she handed him back her glass.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she reassured him, “There’s just something that I need to do.”

“Well, whatever it is, you take care of yourself,” He told her, “Alright?”

Pomni nodded, patting his hand reassuringly before disappearing into the crowd, Jax sighing fondly as he watched her walk away. He nearly jumped when he felt something rub against his leg, looking and scoffing when he saw that it was Motley. “Of course it’s you, you little shit,” he muttered, scooping up the kitten with one hand, “Alright, you had your fun. Now you’re in time out.”

“Well I must say,” Jax turned when he heard his mother’s voice, “I think this is the most you two haven’t been able to keep your hands off one another.”

“Mom!” he groaned, his ears flopping down and pressing against the back of his head as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“What? I’m just making an observation,” she shrugged, “It does make sense though, with her leaving tomorrow.”

His ears perked back up at the mention of that, his tail twitching in discomfort. Although that statement would ring true every time he heard it, it didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted to get on his knees, beg Pomni to stay with him, stay in the kingdom where she would never worry about feeling afraid ever again. But he knew that it wouldn’t be fair for either of them. He knew as much as she wanted the freedom of her own life, the freedom of this choice was all she could have. And he didn’t want to make her feel guilty about having to travel again. Even if it meant she would be further away from him.

“I…I really love her mother,” he said, earnestly and honestly. “I have become an ocean and Pomni is a storm, raining down on me strongly without resistance, but my waters are able to take her strengths, faults, everything. But I know that…I can’t have her.”

Queenie’s face fell, her son had never looked so vulnerable in that moment. It reminded her how she felt when she fell in love with Kinger when she was her son’s age. “Oh darling,” she murmured, cupping his cheek in her hand. Even Motley had climbed up onto the prince’s shoulder, rubbing his fluffy face against Jax’s face to comfort him.

The queen was going to say another word when a single strum of a guitar made the room go silent. Both the queen and prince turned, for on the stage with the rest of the musicians was Pomni, holding onto her guitar as she looked out onto the crowd. She looked positively petrified, there were more people here than there was at the festival, the confidence slipping as doubt crept into her mind.

But when her eyes caught Jax’s, and as he smiled at her with the upmost reassurance, the doubt started to melt. She could do this, taking a breath as she faced her new audience, “This is a song that I wrote during my stay here. It’s a little bit different than what I’ve written before but I hope you all enjoy.” Her fingers pricked at the strings of her guitar before her voice rang like a bell as she began to sing.

Honey, I hate wine

But I’d gladly down a bottle of your name

Just to get another taste of you

A single drop not on my tongue would be a waste

The audience seemed to be enjoying so far, leaning next to their partners or spouses as Pomni continued to sing.

And I hate mornings

But I like waking next to you

You always wake up before I do

So I can sleep in your embrace

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d start drinking wine and sleeping at night

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

Pomni could hear the distant murmurs in the crowd, murmurs of praise and how much they enjoyed her simple song. Her heart nearly skipped a beat form excitement as the rest of her doubts faded away. People liked her songs, people liked her. Her songs meant something!

Honey, I hate travel

But I’d man a boat to glimpse you at the shore

No stretch of miles would ever mean more

Than feeling my hands wrapped around your waist

And I hate time

The minutes shared will never last enough

No amount of time will ever be too much

And parting leaves a bitter taste

At that last word, Pomni turned her attention to Jax, who was patting the side off his leg at each beat of the song. She thought she would hate him, she despised him when hearing about all the rumours that built over the years. But now, nothing tasted as sour than the idea of leaving him tomorrow.

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d stop staying home and wasting time

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

She would. She would do anything to change the fate that life had given them. She wanted to have that choice to stay. Jax’s eyes never left hers, not even more a second as he smiled with all the warmth he could muster. If this was truly their last night together, she was going to make it count.

And I love rain

But I’d ruin every cashmere coat I own

Before I let it wash off any kiss you stole

So they’ll keep us dry as I walk you home

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d lose every penny that I find

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

With that final strum of her guitar, she finished her song. There was a beat, it felt like years to Pomni as she waited to hear the crowd’s final thoughts on her song. Suddenly, the audience erupted into applause, grins nearly splitting their faces.

She let out a sigh of relief, they really did like it. She placed her guitar backstage as she walked away, letting the band strike up again. She strolled towards Jax, determination set in her mind, she meant it when she said she was going to make this night count. “Another dance your highness?” she asked when she got close to him, holding out her hand, “Or are you afraid I’ll look better than you?”

Jax took her hand into his, his smile matching hers, “Little lady, you could trip and you would still look better than me.”

Pomni hummed, “You’re right, I would.”

They snickered as they want back to the dance floor, dancing the night away until the ball came to an end. It was the most magical thing Pomni had done without her powers.

.

.

.

Jax groaned as he sat up in his bed. He had been trying to get to sleep for the past few hours, but he could still feel the tingles of where Pomni’s hands had been on him while dancing. That night was going to be burned in his brain for the rest of his life. He wished she was here right now, to hold her while she ran her fingers through his ears, his fur, wherever she wanted as long as he felt that simple lingering touch.

The prince sighed, shifting as he reached his hand to find Motley, onto to find that the feline was nowhere to be found on the bed. Don’t tell me that little cretin went back down to go ham on those leftovers. He threw the sheets off his bed, ready to exit the room when there were three soft knocks on his door.

Strange, the servants didn’t use that knock and neither did his parents. He opened the door, it was Pomni holding a purring Motley. “I, um, thought I’d return him,” she spoke quietly, her voice breaking slightly, “He woke me up.”

Jax didn’t take him just yet instead leaning in slightly closer to inspect Pomni’s face. His heart plummeted when he saw dried tear stains on her cheeks, “Have you been crying?”

“W-what?” Pomni stammered, “N-no, of course not! I-it’s probably-”

“Pomni,” he spoke sternly, “I know when someone had been crying, I’m not that dumb. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

She took a breath, walking into his room as Jax shut the door behind him. She sat on the edge of his bed, the prince sitting next to her as she cuddled Motley closer. “I sometimes have really bad nightmares,” she told him. “Well, I’ve always had them but they got worse when we escaped Caine and he came after us. Some of them are about ways on how he’d find us and how he’d make us suffer, others are…well, memories of growing up in the circus…”

Jax brows furrowed as the girl curled in on herself, making her seem smaller than usual, “And I’m guessing you had one now?”

She sniffed, nodding her head as Motley pushed his face into her neck, purring as much as he could to give comfort to the girl. Jax brought her into his arms, she let out a surprised squeak as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. “It’s okay, you’re safe here,” he told her, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she whimpered, easing into his touch, “But I won’t be here tomorrow. And I know no one has seen Caine, but it doesn’t stop the fact that he’s still out there looking for us…looking for me.”

Jax wanted to kick himself for saying that. Why her? Why did the universe make her go through the hardest trails life had to offer? It wasn’t fair. “I know what you’re going to say if I asked you,” he ran his fingers through her hair, “But I wished in another life, you could stay.”

“Jax, I…I wish I could too,” she cried, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. But, just for tonight, stay…with me?” She peered up at him through her lashes, his fingers wiping her tears away. “For one night, please…be mine?”

She wrapped her hand around his, bringing it up to her face to cup her cheek, “I am yours, as you are mine.”

“For you Pomni,” he mumbled, carrying her over to the middle of his bed and laying her down, “Always.”

That night, they slept in each other’s arms. That night, they pretended tomorrow didn’t exist. That night, they weren’t Prince of Laphria or jester of the traveling circus. That night they were Pomni and Jax, two people in love.

.

.

.

Kaufmo let out a grunt as he closed the door of the trunk connected to the circus carriage, “I think that’s everything.”

“I’ll say,” Zooble whistled, “I feel like we have more than we did at the last place.”

“Well we were here longer than we have been in other places,” Pomni pointed out.

The circus troupe was outside the palace doors, finally ready to leave. The king and queen had guards to travel with them to their next location, to make sure they would have the extra protection they needed in case Caine was nearby. It had been a wonderful dream here, but like all dreams, it had to end.

Pomni was wearing the same dress she wore when she first came to the kingdom, her simple blouse, corset and pink skirt. She gave the palace one more look, out of all the places she had been to, this one was her favourite. And now she had to leave.

“The king, queen and prince had already given us our goodbyes,” said Ragatha, holding onto Moon’s hand. “Our we ready to go?”

Kaufmo looked to his daughter, “What do you say kiddo? Ready to go?”

Pomni sighed as she turned to her father, he frowned as he saw her downed expression. He hated seeing her like that. She was going to open her mouth to speak when-

“-Pomni!” Jax, it was Jax. She whipped round and saw the prince running out the palace doors and towards her.

“Jax? What’s wrong?” she asked, running over to him.

“I know we already said our goodbye inside,” he explained, “But I needed to do one more thing before you leave.”

Pomni nodded, looking back at the rest of her family, “I’ll be a minute, you finish packing.” The rest of the circus gave each other knowing looks, doing as they were told when Pomni gave them a glare. When they went back to packing, she turned back to Jax, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” his voice sounded nervous, “I just…I want you to have Motley.”

She gasped as she looked at the kitten held in Jax’s arms, the little feline already jumping into hers, “Me? Why?”

“Little monster likes you better than me, traitor,” he frowned at Motley.

Pomni stifled a laugh, “He’s a sweetheart, admit it. Plus, he loves you too. I can’t separate you too.”

“Hey, I’ll be okay,” Jax told her, “Besides, it’s better if he goes with you, to let him be a reminder of this place and…of me.”

Her breath was caught in her throat at those words, nothing could ever make her forget all that he had done for her. “Are you sure?” Pomni asked, scratching behind Motley’s ears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he bent his knees to be eye level with the kitten. “Listen here bud, you’ve got an important mission. In case Pomni gets into trouble, I want you to protect her. If you need backup, you know where to find me. Understand?”

Mew

Motley lifted his paw, it hit Jax directly on the nose.

“Good,” Jax straightened his back, “So I guess this is my final goodbye.”

Pomni bit her lip, reaching up to kiss Jax’s cheek one last time, “Thank you for reminding me how magical life can be.”

Jax’s breath hitched. He could barely recover from her hands, how could he recover from her lips?! She gave him a tiny grin, that jester was going to be the death of him, “You’re welcome Pomni.”

With that, she curtsied once more before running back to the carriage and hopping inside. There was a call from Kaufmo upfront as he pulled on the reins connected to the horses on front, giving them the command to walk as the guards followed on their own horses.

Jax watched as the carriage was pulled further away from him. And further, and further, and further. Then, it was gone. Pomni was gone.

He sighed, lifting his feet and going back into the castle. He didn’t retreat to his room or to his studies though. In fact, hours after the circus had left, he had been pacing back in forth in the throne room, his arms crossed behind his back while the prince was deep in thought. It caused the staff to alert the king and queen at once, leaving the royals to watch their son as he continued to pace.

“Oh the poor boy,” Queenie cooed as she peered through the crack of the door, “Pomni must have left quite the impact.”

“Tell me about it,” Kinger agreed, “I’m fairly certain that his brain has never worked that hard in its life.”

“Shush,” Queenie whacked him lightly on the shoulder, “This is a good thing. It’s not the bad type of thinking he’s having.”

“Then what exactly is on his mind then?” Kinger titled his head to the side.

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” she took her husband’s hand leading him into the throne room. Jax didn’t even notice them come in, still pacing back and forth as his mind kept storming. “What are you thinking about darling?”

The prince let out a yelp, jumping a few feet before facing his parents with a hand to his heart, “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“I apologise, but you’ve been so caught up in your head for the past few hours,” Queenie told him, her brows furrowing with concern, “We were worried.”

“Please,” Kinger went up to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

“Well I…,” Jax sighed, clenching and opening his fists, feeling slightly anxious for what he was going to say next. He hadn’t said or done anything that he was thinking about right now, only hoping that it was the right thing to say and do. “I’ve been having a lot of perspective for the past few weeks, about my place in the world and my role as prince. Even since I was young, I was told that I didn’t belong, that I never deserved my title and I started to believe it. I pitied myself for so long that it blinded me to the potential that I had for myself and for the people of my kingdom. When Pomni came into my life, it opened my eyes to see how fortunate I actually am and what I can be able to do. Knowing what she went through, it made me realise just how privileged and lucky I am, and how I’m able to use my power do help people like her. The nobles were wrong about me, wrong about my dreams being too childish, there is nothing childish about wanting better in this kingdom.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, “That’s why I wanna open a home, a home for people who need to seek shelter if they don’t have it, whether they are from our kingdom or somewhere else. To protect them and give them a life until they can stand on their feet again. I want to give them the safety and security that they were denied. I know that I’m able to do this, I want to do this. I am worth the title of Prince and Heir of Laphria.”

Both Queenie and Kinger were speechless, never before had they heard their son speak with the most graceful confidence. This wasn’t like the times when he spoke with arrogance, no, nothing that he had said held no vanity or selfishness. For the first time, he was speaking like a true prince. “That’s a wonderful idea Jax,” Kinger beamed, sharing a pleased look with his wife, “And you doubted that you’d be a good king.”

“Look at my baby growing up,” Queenie cupped his cheeks in her hands, pressing little kisses to his forehead and cheeks as the rabbit flushed.

“M-mom!” he tried not to grin at the attention, but his wagging tail gave him away.

Mew

He froze at a familiar meow, facing the window when he heard something scratching at it. There was a small little blob on the other side, is that? Jax opened the window, Motley immediately jumping into his arms. “Woah, woah buddy what are you doing here?” he checked him over, his front little paw was bruised as the poor thing was shaking, “What happened?”

The doors of the throne room slammed open, two guards panting and bleeding as they staggered through. “Oh goodness! Someone assist them and get them some water!” Queenie demanded to the nearby maids, the royals and servants rushing over to them. They were led to one of the nearby sitting rooms, urged to sit down and drink until they could get their energy back to speak. One of the servants had brought an ice pack for Motley, Jax immediately took it and held it to his paw while another servant wrapped his paw.

“Easy buddy,” he whispered to the kitten, still trembling in fear. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t force yourself,” Kinger instructed when one of the guards tried to begin speaking, “Tell us what happened at your own pace.”

“We…ugh…we were leading the circus through the forest, there was no sign of danger so far,” the guard began to describe the scene. “But they appeared out of nowhere. We tried to fight back but they were too strong, as though they were having some assistance.”

“What are you talking about? Who attacked you?” Jax was starting to panic. The circus had been promised safe travel and if anything happened to them…he didn’t want to imagine it.

“Caine,” the guard continued, “He and his men jumped out and attacked us. We had the upper hand but then there was this red mist and…” he trailed off, his pupils shrinking as he remembered the horrors of what his mind had deceived him with.

“Easy, easy,” the queen soothed him. “The circus, are they alright?”

“We don’t know,” the second guard spoke up, “We were lucky enough to escape to come back and warn you, but…”

“But? But what?!” Jax raised his voice, he didn’t mean to but fear was rushing through is veins. If anything happened to-

“Pomni,” the guard said, making Jax’s heart stop. “Before we escaped, Caine took Pomni.”

Song Credit: Anything, Anything, Anything by Madds Buckley

[lady-pug]

Warm Sand, Soft Hands

Summary: As you and Din try and help Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens against the Great Krayt Dragon, a split second decision from Din’s part might just change everything and leave you heartbroken. Heartbroken and furious.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,7k

Warnings: this one is quite angsty, plus a few descriptions of injuries (burns and blisters), but nothing further than that

Notes: okay, this is my first time ever posting on tumblr (other than a few reblogs, that is). I’ve only just gotten around to creating an account and I’m currently working on adding all of my already existing works on here. So I really hope you enjoy this! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

This work is part of a series, but all of the parts can be read as standalone one-shots (they are posted in non-chronological order). Reader’s gender not specified.

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Din couldn’t possibly discern what was wrong with you. You had been quiet for the entirety of the ride, your hands loosely wrapped around his waist. On more than one occasion he'd had to hold tightly onto your forearms while going over a dune, otherwise you certainly would have been thrown off the speeder. While he knew you weren’t particularly fond of Tatooine, too many bad memories tarnishing the planet for you, you had been fine when you first landed.

Once the speeder came to a stop near the entrance to the sarlacc pit you quickly hopped off, barely looking at him, and turned to move towards Vanth. But Din was faster and quickly grabbed your wrist before you could take a single step. Damn those bounty hunter reflexes. 

“Is everything alright?” he said, almost reverently “You seem tense.”

Shaking your head you tried to ease him, and yourself, with a strained smile.

“It’s nothing, Mando. No need to worry.”

“You know I always worry.” that seemed to make your smile shift to a more genuine one.

“I just-” you sighed “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“This!” you opened your arms and gestured around you in frustration “all of this! Slaying a krayt dragon is madness!” your voice dropped almost to a whisper “That thing could kill us all.”

His heart clenched at the look of pure fear in your eyes. Yes, it was madness, it would probably get messy really quickly but he had to do this. Too many lives were at risk if they didn’t kill this dragon now.

“You know I hate this as much as you do” now he was the one to sigh  “but we need to do this. The whole town and the Tuskens are depending on us.”

A sad smile appeared on your face.

“I know.”

You nodded at him and went to walk away but he held you in place with a hand to your upper arm.

“I won’t let anything happen to you” his voice was soft, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing up and down your arm “I promise.”

You chuckled halfheartedly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

His thumb came to a halt mid rub as his heart skipped a beat. 

“Be careful out there, Mando.”

He gave your upper arm a light squeeze.

“You too, Cyar’ika.”

“How is that thing not dead?!” the Weequay bartender shouted over the deafening roar of the krayt dragon. The giant beast had managed to somehow dodge the explosion and crawled its way up a cliff. Sickly green acidic goo was projectiled from the creature’s stomach, getting a much better range than before.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake!” 

You knew from the moment you accepted Din’s (back then known as Mando) offer to be his live-in mechanic/nanny for The Child that this wouldn’t be a normal job. You just knew you would have to fend off bounty hunters, just like you had with Calican, and occasionally patch The Mandalorian up after a job gone wrong. But this certainly wasn’t on the job description. 

“I’m so asking Mando for a raise.” (not that you needed it, having him and the baby in your life was already payment enough on its own).

Out of the corner of your eye you could see two figures fly up towards the dragon. Din and Vanth landed on a slope and started shooting but even that didn’t work, as the dragon went back underground.

Disorientated, you, Tuskens and townsfolk started frantically looking around trying to predict where the dragon would pop up next. Turns out that was a little bit too close to where you were currently standing. You tried to fire your blaster at it but nothing seemed to work as it kept coming closer to you. You heard your name being shouted somewhere behind you.

“Get out of there!” Din’s modulated voice barely registered over the thumping of your heart on your ears. Sprinting away as the dragon came in your direction, you stumbled over your feet a safe distance away.

Suddenly it changed its course. It started crawling towards Din, Cobb and… a bunch of explosives tied up to a bantha.

“Smart, Mando. Very smart.”  

But your inner celebration was short lived. Din hit Cobb’s jetpack, making him fly away. But Din didn’t move; he wasn’t moving even as the dragon got closer and closer. In the few moments it took for you to realize what was happening and will your legs to start working again it was too late. 

Your feet felt glued to the ground. Your breath hitched and you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. Din’s plan had worked: the krayt dragon had devoured the bantha and with it, your Mandalorian.

You faintly heard someone screaming as the beast, seemingly satisfied, retreated back under the sand. It took you a few moments and two pairs of robe clad arms holding you back for you to realize you were the one screaming. Soft sand came in contact with the fabric of your trousers as your knees buckled.

It hurt. Maker, everything hurt. Your chest was on fire and you couldn’t inhale without being acutely aware of every particle of sand mixed with air as you tried to fill your lungs with oxygen. But it kriffing hurt. Something warm was running down your cheeks, blurring your vision and rolling off your chin and onto the sand. Tears. You were crying, sobbing, having witnessed your Mandalorian die a second time. 

The blood rushing in your ears almost led you to miss the distinct rumble of the krayt dragon re-emerging. Not again you thought. That thing already took too much from you, how was it not dead yet?

But then you saw something: as the dragon shot upwards something flew out of its mouth through an electrical storm, followed by the thing exploding up in flames. No, not something, someone. You squinted your eyes to try and get rid of the blur of tears against the harsh sun and realized… it was Din! He was alive and safe and very much not dead. 

As he landed before the dead dragon both the people from Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens started to congratulate and cheer for him. In that moment, the relief you felt just seconds ago from seeing he was okay suddenly shifted to a strange sense of embarrassment and anger. Your face burned in humiliation as you scolded yourself. Your tears previously born out of sorrow turned to ones of anger. Maker, you felt pathetic. Crying over a man who didn’t seem to give two bantha fodders about his own safety, about who he’d leave behind if he died or about you for all it seemed.

Getting off the ground you decided to give your- (No, he wasn’t yours to begin with) -the Mandalorian a piece of your mind.

He did it. He slayed a kriffing krayt dragon, a giant one at that. As his feet touched the ground he felt a small twinge of pride as the villagers cheered him on, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by relief. He only delivered the final blow afterall, it took a lot of combined effort from everyone to kill this thing, the people from Mos Pelgo, the Tuskens, Vanth, you… Maker, you were great out there. Well, you were always great, at least in his eyes, always making sure the kid was safe and protected. Where were you by the way? 

As he turned around in search of you he finally spotted you. But something wasn’t… quite right. You didn’t look happy or relieved, like he thought you would be. You looked downright pissed.

“Cyar’ika-”

The last thing he expected to happen was for you to shove him away from you. But his armor was still covered in stomach acid from the dragon and the moment your hands came in contact with his breastplate you pulled them away with a wail of agony.

“Cyar’ika, what are you doing?! Here let me-” as he took a step towards you and went to grab your hands in order to check them over you stumbled away from him.

“No!” you tucked your injured hands close to your chest “Don’t call me that!”

That made him freeze. He always called you that, ever since that fateful day in Nevarro, you were his cyar’ika. You may not have known what it meant but he knew you could easily guess it was something affectionate. 

“Are you kriffing stupid?!” you shouted at him, to which he stayed silent. “Why would you do that?! What were you thinking?”

“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.” he mumbled after a moment, still a little uncertain about this whole interaction. 

You scoffed. That’s such a Mando thing to say.

“You jumped in the mouth of a Great Krayt Dragon, Mando!” you were practically shaking, vibrating with rage “You clearly didn’t think this through, did you?! Didn’t think about who you were leaving behind?”

He was about to retort, commenting on how he didn’t jump into its mouth, he was only holding the bantha and just happened to be in the way of its jaws when he saw it. Just a quick glimpse, barely there, but he managed to see it, his heart clenching as he realized what he was seeing. Beneath all the anger, the rage, was fear. The same look of unadulterated fear he saw on your face right before the fight began was back, and a lot stronger. Maker, he was so stupid, how could he be so dense? Of course you were scared, you just watched him die, again. It was the second time you thought he was dead in a too short period of time.

“I-I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I-” you shook your head, your eyes turning misty and clouded, and walked away before you broke down in front of him.

Din felt something warm, uncomfortable and almost suffocating grow on his chest, crawling up his throat: it was guilt. He felt so guilty, he was trying to protect everyone, protect you, but he ended up hurting you in the process, after you specifically told him to be careful because you were worried about him. But no, he had to go and get himself eaten alive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were feeling, first having left him to die (upon his request) in Nevarro and now this. He wanted to run after you, fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it, he would spend the rest of his days groveling if it came to it. But he knew you needed space.  

His inner struggle was interrupted by a hand being clapped down on his shoulder.

“Trouble in paradise?” he could smack Vanth’s smirk right off his face.

After having harvested the dragon for its meat (and one lucky tusken finding an incredibly large pearl in its guts) it was time for you to leave and go back to Mos Pelgo where you would be staying until morning (“Only someone with a deathwish crosses the Dune Sea at night, Din.” you had told him). He approached you oh so slowly as if you were a scared wild animal that would flee the moment he spoke too loud or too fast.

“Are you ready to go?”

You barely looked at him, the only indication you even heard him was a slight tilt of your head. Was that how most people felt when talking to him?

When you didn’t answer, he sighed. Sensing the overall discomfort, Vanth chimed in from where he was tidying his speeder (if you could even call the engine of a podracer that).

“You could ride with me.” he said, taking a look at Mando, but quickly turned to address you again “If you want.”

That didn’t sit right with Din. He wanted you to ride with him, so he could know you were safe. So he could keep you safe. But when you nodded, he could only sigh as he watched you climb behind Vanth and speed off. A sad coo sounded from the rucksack strapped to the back of his speeder, as the baby’s ears sagged pitifully.

“I know, kid.” he addressed the kid, who was confusedly staring at him “I kriffed up.”

Holding onto Vanth during the ride back proved to be nearly impossible. Ugly blisters had started forming on the angry red skin of your palms, making them really sensitive to the touch. The only solution you found was locking your wrists onto one another circled around Cobb’s waist, resulting in him having to ride very slowly so you wouldn’t get catapulted off the speeder.

The slower pace was quite a nice change from the usual deafening engine roar as you could actually hear yourself think for once. After riding for a few miles Vanth’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“I get that you care about him.”

You knew exactly who he was talking about.

“I do.” you sighed “What are you getting at, Vanth?”

A beat of silence followed before he spoke up again.

“He cares about you too, you know?”

You blinked once, twice before his words finally registered and you looked down at your lap. Only a couple of moments later you found the strength to answer.

“I know.” a bitter laugh escaped past your lips before you could stop it “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?.”

“Come again?”

A sharp warm sting burned in your eyes but you refused to let the tears brimming in them spill over.

“He cares about me and the kid. A lot. But he doesn’t seem to care about himself in the slightest!” you protested frustrated “What does he think would happen to us if he’s gone? I would get stranded on this Maker forsaken planet, with no credits and a green magic baby to take care of!” 

He stayed silent for a second before speaking up softly.

“I don’t think those are the real reasons you are so upset over this.”

You swallowed your tears some more.

“How does he think it would feel if he… how I would feel if he did…”

You couldn’t say it. Die your brain filled in for you. Din’s had multiple close calls, more than any person should have to go through in their entire lifetime. You understood that his job came with its fair share of dangerous situations, and had even been there to witness some of them. But he didn’t need to jump headfirst into it like he did today. He didn’t get out of the way, even when the dragon was charging right at him. There would certainly be another shot at killing the beast, there would be another option, but he didn’t get out of the way. He was ready to die. And it wasn’t the first time. Back in Nevarro he was ready to sacrifice himself so the lot of you could escape through the tunnels. That had absolutely broken your heart, even if you hadn’t known him for long. You had never wanted to feel like that again. 

How could he possibly think you would be okay if he was gone? You finally had something good, the closest thing to a little family after so long on your own-

And then it hit you. Din wasn’t being reckless just for the sake of it; when he was originally traveling alone he would just do whatever it took to finish the job as quickly as possible to just get it over with and be done with it. He was so used to traveling on his own, to being alone, that he often forgot that there were people who cared about him now. Maker, you felt so stupid; while you originally meant it as an angry insult, you quickly realized that he indeed did not think how you would feel if he died.

A deep feeling of shame started crawling up your chest and constricting your throat. Feeling childish for your outburst and angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner, while still feeling upset over thinking he was gone for good this time. You overreacted, you told yourself, and guilt was threatening to consume you whole. How were you going to face Din again? He probably thought you were just a pathetic, whining child, exactly how you felt right now. The pain on your hands didn’t feel so bad now with the way your heart was clenching painfully tight on your chest.

So absorbed in your own spiraling guilt you didn’t realize Cobb had already parked the speeder in front of the cantina back in town. Swinging a leg over the side of the vehicle, he hopped off but before walking away he gently grabbed your wrists, wary of your injured hands.

“He just did what he did to protect us. To protect you.”

And that was the nail on the coffing of your shame and guilt. The tears you were so desperately trying to hold back started cascading down your cheeks, a sob lodged in your lungs. Getting out of the speeder as fast as you could without toppling over in the sand you quickly ran inside the cantina and up the stairs towards the small room you were sharing with Din. In your haste to get to your room and under the covers you didn't even notice the black visor of a helmet staring your way from the bar.  

Finally in the safety of your shared room you leaned heavily back against the door at last acknowledging the turmoil of emotions swimming in your head and in your heart. While finally letting yourself cry freely, you couldn’t give in completely to the sobs that wanted so desperately to fly up your throat as anyone could hear it from downstairs. Instead, you felt yourself slide against the door and onto the ground, shoulders shaking and head tucked between your bent knees. 

After what felt like hours you heard a hesitant, almost silent knock on the door you're still slumped against. Your head was pounding from holding back sobs and you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone but that would be just downright rude. Getting up and swiping across your cheeks to get rid of the evidence of your despair, even though your tears had already dried, you opened the door, instantly regretting it.

Mando’s helmet was unreadable as he stared at you, his visor giving nothing away. Opening the door wider and stepping back into the room you allowed him in, but you kept your back to him. You heard the door close softly behind him and his boots coming further into the room, followed by a shuffling sound, as if he was going through his things. Or maybe he was going through your things. Oh, Maker, was he packing your stuff? Was he going to kick you out? Would he really-

“Let me look at your hands.” his stern yet soft voice cut through your inner rambling. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last one you were expecting, prompting you to turn your body sideways and glance at him out of the corner of your eyes.

“What?”

“Let me take a look at your hands, Cyar’ika.” turning fully towards him you caught a glimpse of a medkit clutched in his hands and a wave of relief washed over you. Nodding, you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to start assessing your injuries. He knelt down in front of you, gingerly grabbing your hands, holding them in his own, palms facing up. A small hiss escaped from his modulator as he pulled out a bottle of bacta spray to apply over the blisters.

He was handling you with such care that it made you feel guilty all over again. You couldn’t look him in the visor, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on his gloved hands. The cooling sensation of the bacta was wonderful against your palms, but did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart. He was being so gentle, why was he being gentle?

Din kept working on your hands, hoping to start fixing some of his faults. A sudden whimper made his head snap up so quickly it almost gave him a whiplash. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered. Although you wouldn’t look directly at him, he could see the trail of crystalline tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Din, I’m so sorry!” he could hear the desperation in your voice.

“What for, Cyar’ika?” he asked in the gentlest voice he could muster, the one he often used when talking to the kid. 

“I-I was so rude to you a-and-'' your hiccups cut right through him, as he realized you blamed yourself for whatever your mind had conjured.

“No, Cyar’ika, no.” he shook his head and gently brought your hands close to his chest, almost tucked under his chin “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“B-but-”

“No buts. You didn’t do anything wrong.” oh how he wished he could kiss each and every one of your knuckles right now “If anything I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who made you worry.”

His words brought a small smile to your tired face. He stood up and brought your trembling frame into his arms, your face tucked safely into the beskar of his breastplate as you finally allowed yourself to fully cry.

“I just-” you sobbed before whispering the next sentence, which promptly broke his heart in a million tiny pieces “I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head. 

“You won’t” he whispered back “I promise. Ni ceta, Cyar’ika. Ni ceta.” he felt like he could cry as well.

Din laid his head on top of yours, gently whispering “I’m sorry.” over and over. 

As you slowly calmed down, you nuzzled further into his arms. Thinking with a clearer head made you realize that, while dangerous situations like the one you faced today would continue to happen, he would always come back to you, and you would always find a safe place in his arms at the end of the day. Now he had something worth coming home to.

Bonus: *gasp* “Where’s the kid?” “With Vanth at the bar.” *stare* *sigh* “Which thinking about it now doesn’t sound like a great idea at all.” *giggle*

[ghostchems]

upiór - terzo x female!reader/copia x female!reader - part 2

upiór (n.) - a person cursed before death, a person who died suddenly, or someone whose corpse was desecrated.

a/n: for @petrifyingpapas week one: resurrection! we got a part two y'all. 18+! mdni! drama drama drama. some gore. some spookiness. part one here! ao3 link.

It has been over a week since you last saw him. You are still torn between wanting to see him again and hoping that you never would. Butl, deep inside, you want him to come back to you. You want to be with him. You could hardly pay attention to your normal duties because you couldn’t stop thinking about him – how his ice cold touch managed to relight the fire inside of you.

You floated through the week, managing to do the bare minimum that was expected of you and your duties. There was only one instance where you spent time with Copia and even that was short. He was starting to get more bold with you, though, having planted a soft kiss to your cheek to say goodbye to you this time. The sensation of his warm lips compared to Terzo’s freezing ones made you feel conflicted.

You slip your hoodie over your head as you step outside into the cool night. For being a satanic church, it often surprises you how quiet the grounds are at night. You make your way to the cemetery, walking silently with your arms across your chest. A chill runs up your spine as you reach your destination. You stand in front of the crypt and tuck your hands into your pockets.

“I miss you.” You blurt out into the air and are met with the whistling of the wind. There is still pain deep inside you, a dull throbbing your chest that won’t go away no matter how much you try to drown it out with thoughts of your last night with him. He wasn’t right. He wasn’t the same. He was so cold. 

He bit you.

But, do you care?

“You are thinking of me, si?” 

Before you’re able to turn around, he has his arms looped around your waist and pulls you close. You look down and his sleeves are more tattered than before, his pale skin showing through the holes. He presses his nose to your hair, inhaling deeply. “Missing your love?” His cold lips tickle your ear as he tightens his grip on you. You practically melt in his arms despite his trembling and how frigid he is. 

“Y-yes, Terzo. Always.” You whisper and suck in a breath. Terzo chuckles darkly into your ear, his teeth grazing it just slightly. “Where have you been?” You shudder, your hands resting on top of his arms.

He doesn’t say anything, merely lifting his hand to point at the crypt in front of you. When he brings his ripped glove back, he rests it on your throat and tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. “I’ve been thinking of you all this time.” Terzo presses a few kisses to your neck and moans softly. “I’m so hungry for you, amore.” 

“H-hungry?” You try to turn your head but he doesn’t allow you to. “I want to see you, Terzo…” You all but whine, swallowing thickly. When he was alive, you were always able to hold your own against him and his intoxicating presence but now… you would do anything he asked if it meant you helped him.

“Amore… eh, I am looking worse for wear.” He sighs, the icy tip of his nose pressing into you. “I do not want you to see me like this.” His one hand slips down to your stomach, then up your sweatshirt, lightly stroking your lower stomach. “Let me have you, amore. Please – I am so hungry.” Terzo growls into your neck. 

“Okay, Terzo.” You breathe shakily. His teeth immediately sink into your skin, much harder than before. You lurch forward from the shock and pain but he holds you to him, his grip on you so tight that you can hardly move. Terzo hungrily laps at the wound, grunting and moaning into you, muttering how delicious you are.

Your eyes flutter, lips part as you feel your limbs start to grow tingly. It’s as if Terzo’s coldness is spreading through you, from the wound all the way to your fingertips and toes. Your head grows heavy, lolling onto your shoulder as he continues to feed. “T-terzo.” You whimper, your nails digging into his sleeve. He doesn’t respond and instead bites into you again, breaking the fragile skin.

You start to struggle weakly against him as your vision starts to blur. Panic starts to overtake you, frantically trying to break free of his grasp but he’s too strong. Feral sounds are bubbling up from his chest, snarling as he laps up your blood. He’s draining you. He’s killing you. A thought crosses your mind. Is this what he needs to move on? He wants you. He needs you. If you die… maybe the two of you could be together.

You relax against him and let him take you.

***

A ray of sunlight hits your eyes and you slowly open them. You groan quietly, your limbs throbbing as you try to stretch out. Your eyes start to focus on your surroundings and on the bed you’re in which is definitely not yours. The sheets rip off of you as you jolt forward to sit up, eyes scanning the room.

It was Terzo’s quarters… except it wasn’t. Not anymore. All of the purple accents are replaced with red, red walls, and red lush carpet. You push yourself against the headboard, ignoring the pain shooting through your entire body as you try to piece together what happened to you. The only thing you can think about is how exhausted and sore you feel.

“Oh.” Copia steps through the door, his eyes widening once they land on you. He is quick to your side, his hands cupping your face. You can’t hold it back any longer, a broken sob falling from your lips as tears flood your eyes. He wipes away the tears with his thumbs, whispering soft and tender words. “You’re okay, you’re safe now, cara.” Copia coos as he pulls you against his chest, his one hand rubbing at your back. “Please, rest now. I’ll take care of you.” His voice is so soft, his touch so warm. You shudder in his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“Let me fix you something to eat.” It’s impossible for him to hide his smile, practically gleeful with the current state you’re in. He has you right where he wants you. Copia presses a small kiss to your temple and gets up from the bed. The loss of his warmth causes you to shiver so you get back under the bed covers.

You run your fingers down your neck, coming across tight bandages on the one side of your neck and your shoulder. Sharp pain shoots through your body as you touch them. Terzo. You sigh deeply, sinking further into the bed. He didn’t kill you and you’re not sure whether you should be relieved or disappointed. All you know is that your body feels like it’s falling apart and Terzo had done it to you.

The door opens and Copia is back, a silver tray in his hands. He is smiling softly at you but you still can’t bring yourself to look anything other than exhausted.

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal, cara.” Copia hums as he places the tray in your lap. “E-eh, I hope you like grilled cheese?” He gestures to the sandwich in front of you. “And… eh, some soothing tea.” His lips twitch into a small smile and he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you intently. 

“Thank you.” You whisper as you sit up. The grilled cheese looks delicious and your stomach growls loudly. You inhale the sandwich, eating the crust and all and give a satisfied sigh once it’s gone. Copia scooches in a bit closer to you, his finger brushes the side of the mug before pushing the tea closer to you.

“What happened to me, cardinal?” Your voice is raspy and you wince as you try to get into a comfortable sitting position. The minty scent of the tea fills your nostrils and suddenly, you need to have a taste. You take the mug and bring it to your lips, taking a long sip of the tea. It heats you up immediately, warmth blossoming in your chest as Copia looks on with a delighted expression. 

“You were bleeding out in Papa Emeritus the Third’s crypt, cara.” He says simply and slinks even closer to you. “Must have been caught by a graverobber. His body is missing, too, you know.” You feel your face start to flush and your heart starts to speed up in your chest as he gets closer to you. You start to feel hazy, your eyes growing heavy as they lock with Copia’s familiar eyes. Terzo’s eyes.

“You loved him.” He says suddenly and you practically feel the wind get knocked out of you. “It’s okay. That’s why you were there, si? You were mourning him?” Copia brings his hand up to your cheek, his fingertips lightly ghosting the skin. Your lips part and you hum softly at the touch, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“I love him.” You murmur as you tilt your head back against the headboard. An overwhelming sensation of calm washes over you. He presses a soft kiss to your jaw and you can feel the tickle of his mustache. Blood rushes to your head and you exhale deeply, your eyes opening just slightly as his lips creep up your cheek.

“Mm. You know, he would have gotten bored of you, cara.” He whispers against your cheek then pulls away so he can look at you in the eyes. You can’t bring yourself to speak, the cloudiness overtaking your mind, but you manage a small frown. “I’m, eh, not trying to upset you. I’ve just… seen it happen over and over again.” Copia brushes his nose against yours’ as his lips twitch into a smirk. “You should be grateful that he passed before it got to that point, cara.”

He cradles your jaw and presses his lips to yours. It takes you a moment to adjust, your thoughts clouded and confused. But you end up melting into the soft kiss and your hands slowly drift up Copia’s chest. He pulls away only slightly as your eyes widen and you give a shuddered breath, lips still parted. Copia moves his hand down your jaw to the back of your head, grasping gently at your hair.

He leans in and kisses you again, more hungrily this time as his tongue pushes into your mouth. You can’t control yourself and moan quietly against his lips, your nails digging into his coat. Copia presses himself up against you, his chest against yours as he hums softly at the minty taste of you. 

You know this is wrong but you can’t stop, your arms looping around his shoulders and fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. Copia hands grab at your hips and gives them a sharp tug, a yelp falling from your lips as he does. He leans his head back, breaking the kiss and presses his forehead firmly against yours. He’s panting, his eyes blown wide with lust but he doesn’t go any further.

“I-I… I’m sorry, cara, I have some things to take care of this evening.” Copia huffs and you can feel his hot breath on your face. “Please, eh, have some more tea and get some rest.” He gives your good shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back later, cara.”

And, he’s gone in an instant, gathering himself and hurrying out the door. You’re left in a daze, your cheeks still flushed and heat pooling in between your legs. You manage to finish off the tea and slip further under the covers, your head swimming with thoughts about Copia and Terzo. There’s a dull ache in your chest but the rest of your pain is gone, replaced with a persistent, warm tingling.

It doesn’t take long for the warmth to overwhelm you, your heavy eyelids falling shut and you nod off.

***

“Oh, amore, you’ve been naughty.”

You snap awake and your eyes immediately fall to him, shrouded by the darkness. He’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, the moonlight showing only his tattered pants. You can see his white eye glaring at you, though. 

“Having fun with the cardinal, si?” Terzo sneers as he stands, his bones loudly cracking into place. He sways forward, his feet thudding unevenly onto the ground as he steps out into the light. You push yourself as far into the headboard as you possibly can, a gasp ripping from your throat once you get a good look at him.

His hair is disheveled, clumps sticking up in all directions. His face paint is cracked, some of it peeling off his face, revealing mangled flesh exposing bone. Black goop has spilled from his neck wound, staining his white shirt. His jacket and white shirt are tattered, his pale white skin exposed. Terzo grins at you, his lips splitting and black blood spilling from them and covering his teeth.

“You must be punished… you know this, yes?”

[stormyjane7]

A Hope For Tomorrow: Ch 6 Tomorrow Starts Today

Summary: The future calls with wedding bells.

Pairing: Astarion x AFAB Reader,

Warnings: Sex. 18+ only readers

Word Count: 911

Rating: If you are under 18, please do not read.

Read on Ao3 Final chapter guys! i really hope you've enjoyed reading. Going to start doing some one shots now. <3

Time felt it had finally sped up as you and your vampire lover were putting the final touches to your outdoor wedding. You had made it back to Baldur’s Gate about a month ago after spending time with Gale in Waterdeep to rest. The adventure of finding the ring had exhausted both of you and definitely needed the respite. 

As soon as you landed in Baldur’s Gate, you and your lover went straight to work. Astarion focused on selling the rest of the Szarr estate and lands. It thankfully brought in so much gold you wouldn’t have to worry for a long long time. You went around finding a nice cottage just outside the Gate to use as a new home. 

Between all that you also both worked to get your outfits ready and let your friends know where to come for the nuptials. And as the eve approached, your friends started to show up with much merriment in their hearts. 

Gale was one of the first to arrive. Being able to teleport anywhere had its advantages. He hugged and spoke briefly to both of you before excusing himself and Astarion off to the side. You didn’t have time to listen in as Shadowheart showed up next and was wrapping you in a big hug. She was starting to go over the details of what she was going to do as officiant when you notice Astarion being super excited over a box Gale was handing him. You were sure you’d find out later what it was. 

The rest of your guests arrived and the feast you were having catered was ready. Everyone sat down to enjoy the night before the wedding and each other’s presence. Stories from everyone’s time since the Nether brain filled the air with much laughter and praise. You ended the night giving a toast to your friends and to your vampire lover. You ushered everyone in so they could rest for the next day.

*************************

“Beloved friends who are more like family now, we are gathered here to celebrate a part of this family tying their lives together forevermore.” Shadowheart spoke softly but loud for everyone to hear. “The battles of the past were hard fought, but nothing compares to the fight to live a good marriage.”

She turned towards Astarion as she continued speaking, “While most brides and grooms exchange rings, our friends have decided to use the Sunwalker’s ring for Astarion’s band. I think you can all understand why he won’t remove it during such a strong sunlit day.” A few chuckles were had between the group.

“I do have a ring, however, for my love to wear and I hope she appreciates it as much as I do.” You see him pull the box out that Gale gave him yesterday. He opens it before you, and in the box was a ring with a stone matching his Sunwalker ring. Your face lit up at how the thought behind this was so lovely and special. He takes it out and slides it onto your ring finger. A sudden magical shift in your body takes place, one that normally happens when you attune to a new magical item. You look at your love with a surprised and confused look on your face. He leans in closer to you. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, darling. I’ll tell you everything once we are alone tonight.” You smile and nod.

“And with the rings exchanged, the vows said, you may now kiss your bride!” Shadowheart said with much love.

Everyone stood up and cheered as Astarion dipped you into a kiss. You were fully flushed by the time he stood you back up straight. 

*******************************

It was a day or so before the last of your friends left and you were finally alone with your now husband. You were both sitting on the couch curled up together. 

“Now that we are finally alone dear husband, I cannot take the suspense any longer! Please tell me what this ring does before I use one of our last detect items on it.”  He chuckles at your aggressive nature. 

He puts his hand under your chin and turns you to face him. He plants a small kiss to your lips. 

“Well, my dearest wife, I found this ring while we were in Waterdeep. Besides us only Gale will know it’s power as I do not wish anyone to hunt us down for it. Gale called in a favor to get a wish scroll to use for you.”

“This is not helping me feel any better about this…dearest.”

“While you wear this ring, you will never age nor die to old age. You are as eternal as I am. Just without the vampire nature.”

Your eyes switch between looking at your love and at the ring. 

“What an amazing gift you have given me Astarion!”

“Now we should generally not worry about losing one another. And should we tire of this world, all we have to do is have you take your ring off and let time start again for you. Whenever you go I’ll be right behind. We can leave the rings for another besotted vampire and mortal.”

“You don’t think you’ll tire of me? We could live for eons!”

“That sounds delightful, darling. Till the world falls down around us!” He brings you in to a deep kiss and you feel the truth of his words. Till the world falls down indeed.