#did I have to conjure energy to do this

[leviiackrman]

THE WORST BOY BAND AROUND;

Johnny Finley: “dying is the easy part. living is the trick.”

Umetarou Noguchi: “it’s much better when you’re smiling”

Isaac Wattleseed: “she’s my sister. she needs me.”

Tobin Drake: “no matter what we do, it’s probably not legal”

Rob Young: “you always need an escape plan”

more art || commissions || oc page || fundraiser

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @bbrocklesnar @carrionsflower @risingsh0t @statichvm @marivenah @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @simonxriley @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @arklay @jackiesarch @zevlor @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @queennymeria @shadowglens @nokstella @nightbloodbix @heroofpenamstan @fenharel @alexxmason @malefiicarum @rolangf @gwynbleidd @delzinrowe

[reel-fear]

Talking abt how what BA did to Wasp is unforgivable but then saying u like Sentinel 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

[pyro-sea]

Sometimes when you take a break for a while, you come back and you're rusty. So you work on shaking off the rust. And once the rust and the dust and the cobwebs have started to clear, you have to grapple with the reality that you're not only rusty, but your style has changed. You're not the same as you once were. You might have grown into improvement during your much-needed rest, but you still cannot return to create in the same voice that you used to.

Your creations are different now. And you have to face that.

[vexingwoman]

One of the things that makes arguing with men so much more draining than arguing with women is the unequal distribution of credibility and contribution.

Somehow, whenever I argue with men, it always falls upon me to both prove my own claims, and to disprove his, while he does neither; his only obligation seemingly to dole out whatever ungrounded assertions he conjures up on the spot. Somehow, it is always wordlessly established that anything I say is false until proven true, while anything he says is true until proven false.

This same dynamic happened again over on tiktok, when a man claimed women are just as violent as men. Automatically, almost as if by muscle memory, I offered up the usual statistics on male depravity: men constituting 99% of rapists, 99% of mass shooters, 98% of killers, 95% of serious domestic abusers. And his only response was to say those statistics were wrong. No elaboration; wrong simply because he said so.

I already knew how the entire conversation would pan out: I’d give him my source, he’d find a reason to discredit the source, then I’d scour the internet to find a source that suited his standards, which he’d inevitably find a reason to discredit too.

So instead I simply said, “Prove the statistics are wrong.” And that was the only thing I responded with henceforth: prove it, prove I’m wrong, prove you’re right. Thus reversing the dynamics and positing that anything I said was true unless he demonstrated otherwise; unduly putting all the onus on him while I did nothing other than decide whether he was convincing me of claims thoroughly enough—and if he wasn’t, it just meant I was winning, of course.

He blocked me, and so far so have all the other men I’ve used this approach on. I don’t know whether it’s because they couldn’t actually disprove my claims or because they couldn’t stand to be treated the same way they treat women in debates. But I think more women should do this. Stop wasting energy proving your points to men, and start making them prove theirs to you.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

What about Graves with a breeding kink or if reader is pregnant? I know you don't rlly write for him a lot, but I love when you do.

Idk if you'll feel like answering this, but ily and ur fics regardless 🫶

Graves w/ a Breeding Kink

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Breeding Kink, Possessive Graves, Housewifery, Pet Names,Profanity,  Fem! Reader.

He lusts for the American dream; the very foundations upon which he continues his existence. To have – to create – a family. And he can think of nobody better to achieve that dream with than you.

He’s on top of you, arms either side of your head, gasping, panting, bent over you and exerting every inch of himself as if you were crafted of some divine substance with tools far beyond human comprehension.

He’s been at it for hours now. You see it in the way his hair sticks together, slicked with sweat as it drips down his face, hear it in the thick, wet sound of his cock slipping back into you with every thrust of his hips, feel it in the growing ache in your abdomen as he fills you again, letting out a strangled, short-breathed moan as your body squeezes around him. He doesn’t let up, though.

He pushes through, gripping you by your hips and pulling you closer onto him. You gasp, back arching as he hits a spot deeper within you. An area he’d been abusing all night, 

“B’such a good little mommy for me,” he whispers into your hair, just above your ear. He presses a lopsided kiss there, lip wet from the many times he’s drawn it into his mouth with his teeth.

“Y’want that, Sweetness?” he pants, looking into your eyes with his half-lidded pair. “Want me to–” – he grunts – “want me t’make you mine from the inside out?”

You can’t get the words out fast enough; garbled and twisted, they come out tangled and in knots, as if tripping over each other to reach a unified ‘yes’. With the little energy you have left, you nod with all the enthusiasm your half-gone mind can conjure. Graves smiles, giving a brief, airy laugh. “Knew I’d made the right choice pickin’ you. Knew you’d make a good housewife for me someday,”

You clench. Graves gasps. He brings warm lips to yours as if to press his love there, as if you are to now impart upon him that which he has longed for for years unnumbered; a family.

He angles deeper, presses his throbbing, pulsating instrument into the most inconspicuous part of you that has you arching your back and letting out an almost-scream. Your knees press into the sides of Graves’ waist, tightening around him just as your cunt did. He yells, uses every ounce of his strength to not collapse on top of you, the tip of his nose against yours. Something in him tightens, snaps, and he floods you for the umpteenth time, pressing himself deeper, making sure his seed takes.

Not that you can see for your eyes being screwed shut, but Graves gazes upon you as you bask in the afterglow of his labour, feeling a smile creeping up onto his cheeks as he takes in your every feature. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen them, in one form or another, he never stops being fascinated – enamoured – by them. By you.

When you come down, come to, you give Phillip a smile he knows all too well – one that preludes your telling him you’re ready for bed. He all but pounces on you as you turn onto your side, taking you by the wrists and pressing them into the pillow beneath you. A dark glimmer passes through his eye, and he gives you a hazy, slithering smirk, followed by his southern drawl.

“Oh no, Princess,” he says, taking your chin between his fingers.

“We’re not done ‘til I say we’re done.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[asceluffy]

OP MEN when they’re in the mood pt. 2

ft. Shanks, Mihawk, Katakuri, King (not proofread)

Shanks

Little did you know that it’s you who gets him in the mood every single time. It’s not just a “I’m feeling horny and I need release” typa thing.

He gets riled up when he watches you put on your favorite lipstick, when you try on your newly bought clothes and show it to him, when you walk around the ship with his shirt on, and when you sit on his lap.

His brain is quick to conjure up different positions he’ll fuck you in when you sit on his lap.

At first, he’d rub your inner thigh ‘absentmindedly,’ and when you shift on his leg, that’s when he’ll go further.

With a mug of beer in his other hand and half his attention on his crewmates, his fingers slowly dance their way up your leg until he stops just when he’s near your panties.

While he chats with his members he’ll toy with the garter of your underwear, tugging it at first before he snakes his hand inside just to feel the skin near your pussy.

And when you squirm, he’ll lean near your ear, face flushed with words a little slurred.

“Once they all get wasted and pass out I’m gonna fuck you on my bed, yeah?”

Mihawk

Mihawk is the type of person to plan things before it happens.

He’d feel the need to feel the warmth of your pussy as it clenches on his thick cock, but when he sees you busy he’d patiently wait until your schedule is free.

He’d set up a romantic candlelit dinner, cooking you steak and pouring you the finest wine in his collection.

He’d let out a small, ‘nonchalant’ smile when you compliment his cooking, all while holding himself back from pining you on the table and taking you then and there.

On the middle of the dinner, he’d casually say, “Let’s have sex.” which will lead you to choke on your food.

“After dinner,” You’d say, and in his mind he’s already celebrating.

When you two finish, he’ll ask you to take his hand and lead you to the bedroom, gasping when you see rose petals scattered inside and lovely music playing from his vintage record player.

Katakuri

He’s mostly shy around you, being his first girlfriend and all.

Some people may think that he acts coldly towards you, but it’s only you who truly knows why he acts that way.

You’d know he’s in the mood when he acts cranky and touchy.

He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, fiddle with your fingers, compare hand sizes, and glare at anyone who dares speak to you or even breathe your way.

But when he’s really in the mood, his subtle touches will level up.

He’d rub your inner thighs, fondle your breasts, lightly squeeze your butt.

You’d notice how his breath gets heavier and how his pupils dilate when you get near him.

You’ll notice him staring at you the whole day without saying a damn word, and when you notice these signs you’ll chuckle and pull him into a passionate kiss.

King

King is a busy man, working under Kaido means he has to do things almost 24/7.

The only time you’d spend with him is when’s sent on expeditions, which rarely happens because he’s always glued beside Kaido.

Or, when he just finished a battle.

While his whole system is still pumping with adrenaline from a recent battle, the only reason for him to calm down is to sink into your tight cunt.

When he sees you after he just won a fight, all his pent up energy will shoot straight down his dick.

He’s a man of few words, and once he has you pinned against the wall, you know what will happen next.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen you in a long time. Open your pretty legs for me so I can show you how much I missed you.”

[silkscream]

pure smile snake venom

ੈ✩ suguru geto x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, dom!suguru, emotional manipulation, fingering, dubcon, blood, yandere behavior, edging, multiple orgasms, choking, loss of virginity, religious imagery

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: oooo i am soo normal about cult leader suguru. art by @/wonowono__3 on twitter

He finds you unconscious. 

He feels you before he sees you – your cursed energy permeates the air with dread. He can feel it in his throat, as if the hand of his past self materialized to strangle him, reminding him of desperation. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, not anymore.

It also felt like death. 

When he finds you, your body would have easily been looked over, small as you were compared to the vastness of the forest around you. Insignificant, left to rot. 

When he’d looked at your face, there was recognition in his chest despite not seeing you before. He hadn’t been drawn to anyone in a while. He barely had anyone that wasn’t at arm's length to him, even his closest devouts, yet something about the delicateness of your face enticed him. A predator finding lost prey.

He finds it mildly sacrilegious to touch you when you’re in this state, but your shirt was saturated with so much blood that it took him a bit to realize that the color of the fabric was supposed to be white and not merlot-red. He lifts your shirt, grimacing at its dampness, and finds a wound that looks fatal. 

He looks at it and feels the residuals of a nasty curse. By the time he tracks it down, he tortures it with all of the energy inside of him. 

__

You wake up on a futon you don’t recognize. You don’t remember a thing. 

You wince as you attempt to rise, clutching your side. You’re topless, clothed only by gauze covering your chest and ribs. 

You exhale, closing your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you see a face with a vacant smile. You are met with that very smile when you open your eyes again.

“Welcome back.”

You blink. He must be the stranger that saved you from — well, what did he save you from? You were used to spirits, took years to adjust to that fact, and have even killed a few yourself. But when you feel the pain in your side, nothing comes to mind.

“You… saved me?”

“I suppose so. It was pure luck that I happened to stumble upon you.”

“Where — where am I?”

He tells you it’s his temple, then he tells you his name. When he asks for yours, you’re reluctant. Eventually, you tell him. If he was luring you into his trap, you suppose you had fallen into it against your will by pure chance. It was probably better than bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you have anyone who will miss you?” 

You don’t say anything. You think of the dingy studio apartment you’ve been subletting for a few months. You try to conjure up a narrative of belonging in your head that would give you any reason for you to leave. Nothing comes.

You shake your head.

__

Geto Suguru is the first person to tell you that you’re magic.

You knew that, in some way, ever since you were a child. Your intuition made you a strange child, always slightly cryptic with a sense of maturity that made you seem like a vessel for a sad ghost. Your visions would only get stronger – small bursts of light whiplashing through your mind into images, rapid like a supercut. The things you saw would come true. 

This is what makes you a good weapon. Ironically, you had always thought of yourself as weak. 

He was captivating the way a cult leader should be, and you had fallen under his spell. It was his robes and the regal way he carried himself, maybe. You don’t think he’s bad — he’s made you important, and you’ve never felt wanted before. You were a recluse before Suguru found you. Barely the shape of anything, so he found it appropriate to mold you into something to call his.

Suguru doesn’t tell you much. You know that he probably lies to you.

He holds too much power for you to question it. His cursed technique is daunting and his grace is enviable, but he’s mostly kind. You help him when he finds curses, usually the more powerful ones that could threaten him. Able to see into the near future, you can sense their next move each time. It makes it easy to subdue them to Suguru’s advantage.

You also find that he is regarded as something of a saint to non-sorcerers. Something twists in your gut when you watch his exorcisms, seeing the immediate relief in the faces of his followers. They look at him with so much adoration that it makes you self-conscious that you share the same disposition.

He tells you you’re his favorite and the feeling dissipates.

You like how ritualistic living in the temple is. Breakfast at the same time each day. Tea in the garden. Rolling in the gross with bruised knuckles.

You take a liking to his girls. They remind you of yourself, but they lack the meekness you had as a teenager. The twins adore you almost as much as they adore Suguru. They are endlessly fickle, as most teenage girls are, but their devotion is worn candidly in the way they carry themselves. You wonder how they can be so obedient, but you realize that they have known nothing else. 

It’s a quiet luxury. You like to pretend that you’re some sort of priestess, sometimes. You had never been as reverent as your mother, but you think that there is peace in serving a God.  If not Suguru, then some higher power must’ve granted you another chance at life, even if your new life meant mundane piety. 

You liked routine – it fit you. You did your part in the temple and Suguru would reward you with gentle praises. You were only one of few sorcerers in his current entourage, so you felt special. 

Despite this, something felt messing. You often wish Suguru could cast out the malaise inside of you, but you’ve carried it in the pit of yourself for as long as you could remember. Even in your pious bliss, you start wondering if the curse that nearly killed you left a part of itself within you. Each day is the same until you wear thin.

When the string finally breaks, you find him with blood on his hands in the temple’s omoya.

It’s not the blood of a curse, either. It’s dark crimson, such as the same blood that is inside of you, and on the tatami mat lies the lifeless body of a servant. 

Shin, his name was. He wasn’t much younger than you, but he had the spirit of a boy, always able to make you laugh before he served you breakfast. He had arrived only a few months after you had, citing suicidal ideation as a catalyst to seeking Suguru’s services. Once treated, he had felt larger than life. 

And now, his face is frozen in time – the look of sheer fear. 

“Useless monkey,” Suguru tuts, wiping the blood off his face. You’ve seen that look on his face before — when he’s cruel and callous in battle. When he snaps the neck of a special grade curse before he eats it. 

You run to the bathroom to vomit.

When you emerge, one of the twins looks at you curiously. Mimiko. She smiles at you serenely, her eyes flickering with taunt. 

“Is everything alright, Y/N-san?”

“Y-yes,” you nod. “Just a bit under the weather.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Her eyes light up for a second. “Oh, could you be pregnant? Nanako and I really wish there was another kid around—“

“No, no, I’m not pregnant,” you cut her off, shocked. Did she think you and Suguru were… together? Did she think you were his concubine?

“Ah. I can get the servants to prepare some ginger tea for you.”

“No need, Mimiko,” you shake your head, smiling sheepishly. “I just… need to get some air.”

She leaves you alone as you walk towards the pagoda. You feel another wave of nausea when you remember Shin’s lifeless eyes. The blood on his throat. 

You stare at the sunset. It’s been a long time since you’ve left the temple of your own volition. Suguru keeps a tight leash on you nowadays, blaming the unpredictability of your power. Bitterly, you realize that you’re only ever in town alongside him. 

Sometimes, you miss being a stray.

His presence is immediate. When you turn, his long hair sways in the breeze as he flashes you a cat-like smile. 

“Thought you were trying to run away from me,” he murmurs, walking towards you. “But you’d never do that, would you?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

He looks at you, amused. It feels belittling. 

“I apologize. I thought Nanako had locked the door.”

Your blood stills. He saw you.  

“I thought you only killed curses,” you stammer. For the first time, his presence makes you feel unsafe. 

“I never said that, sweet girl,” he chuckles. He plays with a loose strand of your hair. “Humans are beneath us, you know that. Humans are the reason curses are created. Curses just like the one that nearly killed you.”

You don’t have it in you to protest. He’s gotten closer to you now. A hand on your waist. His lips kissing your hairline in a way that makes you feel like a child again.

“I— I liked him,” you stutter. 

“Mm,” he hums. “He liked you, too. A bit too much if you ask me.”

You stay silent. Only the sound of cicadas fill the air. 

“It’s not your fault,” he grins. “You charm anyone you meet by default, you know. But sometimes, these followers… they want to threaten our mission. Sometimes, they’re paid off by sorcerers who are targeting me to gather intel. And darling, when there’s a target on my back, there’s a target on yours.”

You pull away from him with wide eyes. His face is neutral. So naive, you are. He was only doing you a favor, but a sheltered girl like you trusts too easily. 

“Just remember. I will be the only one to protect you.”

__

He finds you in the garden.

You’re surrounded by wildflowers, your yukata loose enough on you that it falls off your shoulder when you sit up to greet him. The sight of your bare skin tokes the fire in his stomach. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in a plain kimono as opposed to his usual gojo-gesa.

“Enjoying the fireflies?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your smile is tired now. You stare blankly as if you’re in a trance. 

“You’ve been a bit off lately,” he muses. “Something on your mind?”

You blink at him in surprise, almost regretting it once you make eye contact. The hint of a lazy smile is there while his eyes scrutinize you. It always feels like he can see right through you, observing you just before he eats you whole. 

“No, Geto-sama,” you shake your head.

He laughs, rubbing your shoulder. “So formal with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” you knit your brows. You had been at the temple for less than a year. You weren’t intimate with him enough to warrant that. You weren’t intimate with him in the way your heart longed for.

“Not with me. Never with me.”

“Suguru.” You mull over the taste of his name on your tongue. The shape of it in your mouth. “I’m okay, Suguru.”

You feel pathetic under his gaze. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, sensing the apprehension in your voice. The slight quiver of your bottom lip as you avoid his face.

“I’m just… recovering. From my technique, that’s all,” you say hoarsely.

It’s not a complete lie — the intensive training with Suguru led you to discover that you could bend time and space to your will in small aspects. Teleporting short distances became a new tool for your arsenal. It was still difficult to manage and exhausting to exert. The other day, your nose had bled so much that you almost thought your membranes would burst completely.

“You’re exhausting yourself,” he says gently, rubbing a hand to the small of your back. “But you’re improving rapidly. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth floods your body at his praise. It was too easy for him to wrap you around his finger, and you were starting to hate it.

“Thank you,” you mumble. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You take a moment of reprieve when he asks this. Powerful? Despite being a sorcerer and wielding the ability to exorcise the monstrous manifestations of human suffering, you did not feel powerful at all. You never have. If anything, you only felt useful.

“Not really.”

“You should,” he smiles. “You’re getting stronger. We’re untouchable together, you and me.”

You and me echoes loud in your brain. Stitches itself into every crevice unwittingly. 

“Ge– Suguru,” you swallow thickly. “Is that why you saved me? Because you wanted me to get strong?”

“Yes,” he nods without hesitation. “I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all I am? Potential? I’m just– just a vehicle for you?”

He leans over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His own hair is down, for once, and you can smell his white tea shampoo as his shoulder touches yours. It almost soothes you.

“You aren’t just a tool to me, you know that,” he sighs, looking at you with intent. “I like taking care of you.”

You nod slowly as you look towards the sky. His words aren’t enough to fill the emptiness inside you. His proximity to you makes your chest constrict in the slightest bit, creaking the floorboards of your ribs inside a haunted house body. 

You shiver when he pulls down your yukata and presses a chaste kiss to your collarbone. It must feel the same as when humans get their curses exorcised by him. Lightness in their being instead of dead weight. Blessed by a god.

“Come inside,” he purrs. “You’re getting cold, yeah? I can see your goosebumps.”

No. His hands were just colder than you expected.

He gathers his hair into a half-up bun before he brings you to his room for the first time. It’s rather bare, save for the kotatsu across from his futon and the talismans that are hanging above it. The calligraphy is messy, unintelligible, as if the text was written manically. 

He sits you down at the kotatsu and pours you bergamot tea. You cough nervously in anticipation.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“Um.. how long do you intend on keeping me here?”

He raises a brow. Looks at you like you’ve asked something stupid.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he asks sarcastically.

You triple-blink at his bluntness. He isn’t taking you seriously. 

“Well, I have a friend or two in my hometown. I was thinking about—”

Your breath hitches when he grabs your chin. His gaze bores into your face, his lips in a hard line.

“You’re unhappy,” he says plainly.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can completely fulfill the purpose that you—”

“Do you think anyone else will take you in?” he spits. “You told me yourself. You have no family. You were barely scraping by when you lived alone. With the amount of cursed energy you possess, you think you’ll be able to protect your friends from all the curses you’ll attract?”

You sink into yourself. As if a switch is flipped, his expression changes completely. There’s that familiar softness in his eyes again. God, the tea was making you feel so warm, too. One look from him and you find yourself melting. Even the Devil would swoon.

“Don’t you think fate brought us together?” he whispers. “Don’t you know how valuable you are to me?”

He almost sounds like he means it. Your rabbit heart speeds up when he strokes your collarbone with his thumb. A heady feeling consumes you and you force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“Look at me,” he demands, grabbing your chin again. He crowds your space, not leaving you any room to breathe. Your gut aches from sudden heat.

“God made you for me. Don’t you know that?”

Your mind goes blank as you nod slowly. He looks at you like he’s starved. No one’s ever looked at you like that before. No one has ever really looked at you before him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper.

He caresses your cheek, his breath tickling your jaw as he leans in.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand what it’s like to feel a little stir-crazy. I’ll take you out more often, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and it comes off as sardonic.

“Such a spoiled girl. Only the very best for my girl, hm? I clothe her, feed her, make her stronger. And what do I get in return?” he scolds, thumb swiping over your quivering bottom lip. “She tries to run away from me.”

“I’m not,” you pout.

“You’re not?” he scoffs.

You don’t know what to do other than apologize. You were weak like that.

“You’re so good,” he sighs. “And you want to keep being good, is that right?”

“Yes,” you mumble. 

You shiver again when he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand undoing the ties of your yukata. You sharply inhale at the cool air hitting in your nipples, the rest of you trembling at the prospect of being so bare in front of him. God or prophet, you didn’t know. All that you know now is that there was no coming back from this. 

“My good girl,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “My best girl.”

You whimper when you feel his tongue on your jaw. His kisses are tantalizingly slow. Teasing. He marvels at the flutter of your lashes in response to his touch. 

He had tried to deny those feelings in the beginning, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He feels as though he’s created you. He liked you delicate, lace winged. A butterfly caught in a jar.

Suguru thinks this is fair. He has always believed in fairness, and although one might argue that his philosophy is a direct contradiction to that, he could beg to differ. Different people had different values, that was all. You just happened to have an advantage in the hierarchy he holds in his head. A precious thing, his treasure. 

When he turned his back on Jujutsu society by becoming a curse user, he would avenge the suffering of the sorcerers around him. Years of adapting to the taste of shit and vomit would eventually earn him something that made it all worth it. He’s convinced that something was you.

He was your savior, therefore you were his blessing. It was only fair that he could take you the way he wanted. You were meant to be found by him. You were meant to be kept. 

You barely put up a fight.

You whimper when he parts your legs with his hands and finds you embarrassingly wet. Every stroke of his hands on your inner thigh has you twitching involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he coos. “Look at that.”

You look away in shame, trying to close your legs, but he forces them open with a bruising grip. Your heart drops to your stomach. 

“What’s wrong, baby? You want to be good for me, right?”

You nod without a word, trying to control your breathing. Your brain is telling you that you want this — you’d wanted to be his from the moment you saw him. Your body tells you the same, but dread creeps up your spine.

You gasp when he grazes your clit with his fingers. He plays with it, stares at your cunt through your underwear like it’s a prize.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m the only person in this world you can trust.”

He slips your panties off easily and you wince at the sound of your wetness sticking to the fabric. He applies more pressure to your bud, distracting you with his mouth on yours. You mewl into his mouth without realizing and he grins against your lips, slipping his tongue inside. 

When you feel a finger push into your walls, you convulse in surprise, though you don’t pull away like he expects. You merely clutch him harder, your hands wrinkling the sleeve of his haori. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” he rasps. “No one’s been here before, is that right? Just me?”

He groans when you look at him with innocent eyes and nod meekly. Of course he would be your first. You were nothing but a wounded dog when he found you, barely had a life of your own before he took you. You were pure and the world was keeping you for him. It was meant to be.

“S-Suguru…” you breathe. He’s pulled you into his lap now, your cunt getting his kimono wet. The slick of your cunt around his finger is enough to make blood rush to his cock. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles. In one fell swoop, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the futon. You squeak in surprise at being lifted off the floor so quickly and so easily. 

He takes the pause in his actions to undress himself, slipping off his robes, and when you see the thickness of his length prodding against his toned stomach, your mouth goes dry. 

“C’mere,” he beckons. You obey.

He kisses you sweetly on your mouth and then down your jaw, squeezing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he takes the time to rub his thumb over your nipples. Suddenly, his teeth graze your chest. Biting, tasting. Forbidden fruit.

You let out a quiet moan and he chuckles. “So sensitive.”

Without a warning, he plunges two fingers into your cunt and you nearly cry out. There’s a choked noise, something in between pleasure and resignation. It’s all too much. When he adds a third finger and feels much less resistance, he laughs. 

“Taking me so well. You’re doing so good,” he encourages before lapping at your chest again. When his fingers curl at just the right angle, your vision starts to get fuzzy. His thumb on your clit only intensifies the feeling.

“I c-can’t—”

“Hm? Use your words.”

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

His movements still and you nearly scream. He pulls back to see tears brimming your eyes and he kisses them away gently despite his cruel smirk. 

“Nonono, please—”

“Please what?” He feigns innocence. 

You bite your lip, your face too hot to feel comfortable expressing what you want. You feel the ghost of your curse wrap around your throat again. Once again, you find that the ticket to salvation has silky black hair and snake eyes. The artillery of a fallen angel disguised as something pure.

He can tell you’re frustrated but too afraid to voice it. You’re as pliable as he knew you would be. Endlessly easy to coax a reaction from. 

“Do you expect everything to be handed to you? Just because you’re mine?” he taunts. 

His. His. His.

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Then ask nicely, baby.”

Your cunt is on fire even though he isn’t touching you. When he strokes your lip and pushes his thumb into your mouth, you let him. Your tongue tickles his fingertip.

“Ah, so you still have a tongue. You can still speak.”

He laughs when you pout.

“Please touch me,” you say, your voice as quiet as a breeze.

“What was that?” He grins even wider. 

“Pleasetouchme,” you whimper, your voice light as air.“Please… please make me cum.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles, licking into your mouth. His fingers fuck you in earnest now. You feel so full that your eyes roll back. It’s cute.

Poor thing. Suguru is a patient man, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to wait. He could make you cum three more times so that you’re truly ready for him, but he doesn’t want to. He supposes that if he breaks you, you’ll thank him anyway. No one else wants you more than him, you had to understand that. 

His cock throbs at the sight of you coming undone. It’s nearly animalistic, like provoking violence from weak prey. Cataclysmic like a falling star. He’s consumed with it, with the fact that he can do this to you and no one else can. 

He fingers you through the aftershocks, too, until you sob loud enough that his other hand has to cover your mouth. You squirm underneath him, shaking your head in desperation. 

He admires the slick of sweat on your chest, your glowing figure. When he releases you, he thinks briefly that you’re on the verge of passing out. But you tremble, rapidly breathing, eyes unfocused as your lashes flutter. 

Suguru licks you off of his fingers and you stare in horror, returning to yourself.  It makes him giddy, how even your spirit is infinitesimal.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs. He kisses you roughly, tongue prying your mouth open and making you moan. “See? Sweet. You’re perfect.”

He likes seeing you all flushed. Glaze on your cheekbones. He thinks he should make you his wife, memorialize your fucked out form with a commissioned painting and hang it above his bed. A good luck charm among the talismans. You look too good to ruin with his cock, but he knows he’d already taken all of you anyway.

He’ll put you back together after. Pamper you with yuzu slices in a hot bath. Play the part of a boyfriend instead of a master.

He pins you down even though he doesn’t need to. You let him settle in between your thighs, his aching cock slapping against your stomach. 

“So cute when you’re scared,” he chuckles at the look on your face.

“It’s… big,” you say meekly. 

“It’ll fit. It won’t be so bad, yeah? I changed my mind about punishing you for trying to run away.”

Panic paints your features.

“I wasn’t trying to run away! I promise.” Your lip quivers again. Maybe he should make you beg.

“Is that right?” He leans in, precum spreading on the skin above your cunt, tip grazing your clit just slightly. You bite your tongue so you don’t moan from the sensitivity.

“Yes. I want to stay.”

“And why’s that?” he jeers. 

“Because— because you’ve given me everything.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Because I’m yours. I’m…  your good girl,” you slur through tears, voice above a whisper.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Of course you are. Always will be.” Whether you like it or not.

You moan at the same time he prods his tip inside. When he sinks in even further, right to the hilt, he becomes delirious with need. It takes everything in him to not pound into you recklessly.

“Pretty fucking cunt,” he groans. “So warm.”

More hot tears, but your dread is replaced with rapture. He fills you up, already poking at the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your body ripples with pleasure as he moves and digs into your guts, an ocean of tender heat.

It’s a branding. You don’t exist if it isn’t for him.

“Suguru,” you moan. 

He kisses your neck, teeth hard on your flesh. Pulling it taut while his tongue rolls in it and leaves mouth-shaped blessings.

His hips drive into you with more force, cock reaching places that your fingers could never reach. You shut your eyes and phosphenes float through the static of blackness. They linger when you open them again, Suguru’s face illuminating in grainy color.

It takes you a bit to realize his mutters, the way he’s babbling through moans.

Good fucking girl. All mine forever. I’ll die with you.

You let out a pitched moan as Suguru wraps his fingers around your throat. Every part of your body feels like it’s bursting. You cum like that, your walls outstretched by his thickness carving you out in the shape of him. 

“Take it,” he grunts. “Take my cock. Fuck, I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

He’ll probably obsess over your cunt for ages. The face you make when you’re being used. Your ragdoll body.

His bun had come undone. Even if his cock wasn’t in you, your stomach would ache from how beautiful he looked. Eyes focused on you, nearly deranged at the way he was blistering you raw. The cascade of tears down your cheeks. It made him impossibly hard. 

He pulls out quickly to flip you onto your stomach so he can rut into you from behind. The angle makes it so that his cock is even deeper. 

“Oh, Suguru—”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again?”

You whine, all high-pitched and girlish. 

“Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me,” he grunts.

“I’m yours,” you hiccup. “I’ll n-never leave you.”

Your cunt was starting to burn, even with how wet you were. Suguru cums with a rough thrust at your words, nose buried in between the lovebirds littering your shoulder. You’re full of him. He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard inside you. 

“Shit,” he hisses, looking down to see his cum oozing out of your pussy, all mixed up in your arousal. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him. You can barely form words now, crying as you can feel yourself about to cum again. 

“That’s it,” he pants. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on that cock for me.”

You’re twitchier this time. Your moan tapers off into squeals as you bury your tear-stained face into the pillow. He follows after you with a gasp, his large body covering you like a cocoon. 

He kisses the nape of your neck. Between your shoulder blades. His cock stills inside you, but he doesn’t pull out until he softens completely. When you stop shaking, he turns you over. 

“There’s my angel,” he says fondly. “Thought you passed out on me.”

You shake your head. He smiles lazily, leaning to kiss you all over your face. 

Your bones feel like jelly, but you still switch your positions with intent, and to your surprise, he lets you. Naked and breathing heavily above him, you examine him with his hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and cherubic. He almost looks innocent. 

He groans at the way your leaking cunt grinds on his crotch, prompting him to get half-hard already. He grabs your hips at the same time you grab the base of his throat. He laughs. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You blink twice and your eyes glaze over. 

In your vision, you see Suguru’s face flashing you his usual grin, this time showing all his teeth as blood drips from his chin. When you look down at your hands, they’re saturated in the same red. He kisses you despite it all and you understand. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “I do.”

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 2 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 — Part 2 (here) — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

You were supposed to wish for Alastor’s defeat, supposed to revel in Alastor’s humiliation. But no, the last moment, when it came down to it, you appeared before the first man and leader of the exterminations out of a tornado of blank pages. You stared down at Adam while Alastor recovered behind you, ears pinned

As much as Alastor’s devotion and twisted love disgusted and caused you to constantly shiver from, you didn’t exactly see an issue since he wasn’t directly harming you or making your life unbearing to the point of wanting to off yourself like the times in your life above. You’d never admit, but you liked having Alastor around and the fact that you have his soul now, made you even more willing to keep him around

Pages flew around you while you held your opened notebook in one hand while your dominate hand held onto your quill. You have always loved the way the feather moves whenever you write. While Adam taunted Alastor for being protected by someone insignificant, you scribbed over the blank page and summoned your angelic weapons, firing it mercily at Adam without stopping

Rare rage of Adam harming Alastor and fear of Alastor’s disappearance became your drive to act. You wouldn’t have acted if it weren’t for the fact that Alastor, an Overlord and The Radio Demon, was willing to spend so long with little ol’ you and even go as far as to give you his soul

You couldn’t just stand idly by while Alastor was going to actually die by your orders. Sure you like the idea of redemption for demons, but you aren’t going to do it yourself, nor will you let what’s considered yours to be taken away by something you hardly care for

“Oh, my dear, how I’d love to be at least standing side by side with your love for that hobby you consume yourself with.” Alastor had once said, long long before he gave you his soul “As if that could happen.” You had once said aloud, thinking in your heart that you’d die before ever letting a physical person or sinner this close to you again. “You can keep dreaming.” “In my dreams, we are something much more, darling.” Alastor cooed close to you, putting down one of your favourite dishes you hardly have the time or energy to buy or make yourself. His grin grew as you inspected it before delightfully partaking in it with a hum of satisfaction. “I do think I can make it into a reality. Just give me some time.” You glare back at him, turning away from him with your food in hand. Your face heated up a bit, as did the tip of your ears. You’d never admit to him, he has a way with words, and sometimes your heartstrings

Out of your blinded rage and fear, as well as your sudden adrenaline, you failed to keep track of the pages used for your conjuring until you were trying to rip the hardcover of your notebook. You paused, as did your attack on Adam

As if karma was playing a hand to laugh in your face, Adam attacked you head on in your moment of disbelief and shock. Having your powers and energy exhausted, you took the hit head on. A deep gash appearing from one shoulder blade diagonally down to your side, you dropped your notebook cover and quill as you fell to your knees, spatting out blood

“I’m ending this broadcast!” Alastor roared as he traveled through the shadows to you, his shadow grabbing your abandoned belongings before he brought you to safety. The taunting laugh of Adam ringing in your ears as darkness swallowed you up while warmth covered a side of you

You didn’t know where you were, but you were positive Alastor was bringing you to safety even when he himself was in a bad shape. You let yourself hang limb in his arms, feeling more and more tired. You once told him you like having a relationship like Ciel and Sebastian’s but a bit different, you can imagine that’s why Alastor was acting the way he was afterwards

When you told him you’re fine and just a bit tired. He held back snapping at you, his hold on you even tighter. He wants you healed, he needs you healed. You can’t leave him. You just can’t. Why were you there in the first place, he would have been able to deal with it and proved to you he was strong. Can’t you see he was willing to do anything to return back to your side?

Red doesn’t suit you. No. You were much lovelier in the comforts of your home, where you were safe and happy with that entertainment you love. He was content with just being by your side and being the only one you interact with. He found you and you found him. It was as simple as that, it was going to be you and him

When Alastor made it back to his radio tower, though destroyed and sat at the bottom of a hill, he leaned you against his chest, holding you with one arm while his other searched through his drawers. Finally taking out a few pages with one word on them. They were all gifts from you to him should be be injured, he was glad he never had to use it

He placed the pages over your wound and watched as they faded out and turned to sparks, the majority of the wound slowly disappeared with time and he covered you with his coat. When you were healed, he hugged you close, too tight as you’d whisper to him

Yet he didn’t loosen his grip on you. Your eyes opened, albeit still droopy from the lack of energy and immense tiredness all over your system. You raised a hand and patted the back of his head, you hummed softly, just as you did before when he was being healed for his wounds

“I’m not leaving you, darling. Never.” Alastor spoke as his body shook, you barely registered his words as your eyes threatened to close. “If you threaten to destroy my soul, I’ll lock you in my staff and keep you there with me. I’m not losing you, dear Pager. I won’t allow it.”

You somewhat nodded, Alastor had always been overly protective and obsessive with your health, wellbeing, and mostly safety. He’d say the darkest things he’d do to you to get you shaking, you’re used to it, it was his way of caring. As pitiful and sad as it is, no one had care like this for you

Your eyes closed as you gave him his order, “Alastor, I’m removing that no seeing me rule.” You muttered, positive he heard every word even with the lack of responses. “You know, I’ve missed your cooking. Your presence in my apartment. I’ve missed you.”

You remember a tightening hug before you fell into a deep slumber

“Darling. You’re unusually free today.” Alastor remarked as his eyes follow you strolling back and front the living room to the hallway where your bedroom and other rooms were.  “Yeah, well, I watched and read all I wanted.” You complained, “Now I’m just walking around to remember if I missed anything.” You paused in your pacing and went over to Alastor’s side. “What are you making this time?” “Some cookies, dear, you said you have been craving some and the shops were out of them. So why not make some instead?” Alastor laughed as he continued to mix the mixture till it was well done. You glanced to the baking book in front of him, then back at his smiling face that you had grown accustom to already. Even that grin smile that scared the living daylights out of you, especially when he was waking you up from your sleep. “But I can’t finish this much.” “You can merely throw it in the trash, my dear.” Alastor stated easily. “But you’re making it with so much care.” You looked down at the dough that had formed, ignoring the way Alastor was staring at you. Your shorter height was definitely an advantage here. “I don’t want to throw away something you made with your time and energy. Considering your cooking, I think your baking would be nice too.” Alastor laughed, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. You had flinched, but then relaxed a bit. “Dearest dear, your praise is too much. However, if you can’t finish it, there’s no use in keep them when they turn bad.” “Then we can share it with the neighbo—” “My doe.” You heard the static grew, feeling Alastor’s grip on you tightened but not enough to give you a bruise or a wound. “This treat is made for you and not for those sickening souls. I rather burn them to ash than let another taste these.” You sighed, somewhat expecting this already. “Why not compromise? You dislike sweets and I dislike that deer meat, uh.. Venison? That you love. I’ll try your dish and you eat these cookies with me. Sounds fair?” Seeing Alastor eying you with narrowed eyes, you rolled your eyes and shrugged off the loosen hold, “I’ll also make the cookies with you, since I got nothing to do at the moment.” That seemed to spark something in Alastor as his smile turned genuine. “Now how can I refuse such an attractive offer.” You looked away, pushing down that bubbly feeling as you kept a straight face while you spoke softly, “If you left me like you would when you’re already healed.” At that, Alastor took your hands in his, bringing you to the living room as his shadows shifting away any furniture in the way and twirled you around. A sudden darker toned soundtrack playing, presumably from his staff with a microphone on top. His silence to your comment was unusual, usually he’d be laughing it off or denying it. Now he was just being unusually quiet. The dark track that was play wasn’t helping the way you felt unnerved and a bit chilly. His twirling and dancing changed to a slow sway as the music transition to that of a classical piece. Finally, he spoke, “My darling Pager. If I give you my soul, will you believe in my devotion and love for you?” Your head snapped up from looking at his chest, you wanted to shout at him for suggesting such a thing, but your shock was grounded when you saw the smile on Alastor’s face. By now you had known, even while he’s smiling, he wasn’t always ‘happy’ or in power. It was like a mask for him, a mask you’d see through. You looked away, having tried to get out of his grip but he held you with an iron grip. “Don’t joke about that. Soon, you’ll be back out, doing your Overlord things and being the feared Radio Demon like you love.” “And leave a precious soul like you behind with no one to care for? Never, my dear. Perhaps in your nightmares.”

When the hotel was newly rebuilt, Alastor had his appearance, holding tightly on his staff that contained you from inside. He didn’t let anyone near his staff and by extension, you. He kept up appearance even though Charlie and a few others were asking what transpired on the hotel roof when he was battling Adam. They saw your powers, but at least they didn’t see you

“A little magic trick to confuse that rascal angel. It seems I underestimate the man.” Alastor answered, shocking others that he admitted to his fault. Especially Husk who was suspicious of his change in attitude. “Now, may I pick my room? I would love to redecorate, if that’s alright with you.”

Charlie nodded along, telling Alastor of his new radio tower as well. He ignored how it was opposite to Lucifer’s but there was more pressing matters. He took up another room nearby, that would be yours, and reconstructed your bedroom down to the letter. When everything was done, he laid you down on the bed, still asleep

Alastor would read to you while you were still in your slumber, when he takes a pause from his reading, he’d check your wound to see if you were healing and not dying. When he wasn’t in the room, he’d leave behind his shadow and staff to play those anime you love so much. As much as he wanted to play with your unique technological devices, he had no idea who to operate them and he didn’t want to mess up your stuff

While this wasn’t new, you sleeping for longer periods of time to heal and replenish your energy due to over-exhausting your powers, this was the first time you were heavily wounded and by holy powers no less. He doesn’t know what to do and he wasn’t going to risk others knowing he had someone sleeping in a spare room that he took up

“Wow. So this is who you’ve been talking too. No wonder you were more talkative than usual.” Lucifer stood over your slumbering form with his hands behind his back. Alastor immediately had his black tentacles pushing Lucifer away from you and at a wall farthest from you as he summoned a barrier around you. “Protective too!” Lucifer remarked, unaffected by the situation. “Should have known our dear Page Demon here is more capable of gaining allies.” “Get out.” Alastor growled a warning “I bet you don’t know how to wake sleeping beauty up.” Lucifer taunted, “I mean, this slumber and your pathetic desperate self is amusing and all, but I can’t let the Page Demon die.” Alastor’s mind was racing. Die? You were dying? But the wound was, is, healing. You were looking better and better with ecah day. He didn’t even feel his bond with you weakening. “What do you mean?” Lucifer shrugged off the tentacles and pushed them away, twirling his staff before planting it in front of him and leaning against it, “Our dear Page Demon here was once my informant, you know? Got a lot of secrets and knowledge you can never imagine, but I respect the quitting and gave a wonderful apartment and money so there’s a comfortable life, see?”

That’s how you were never worried about money or the fact that your apartment was the only one this big and well off, compared to the others around your place. Not to mention you were in such a secluded spot in the Pride Ring that not many demons knew who he was nor do they care. You were even more showy with your powers to conjure angelic weapons too

The King of Hell gave Alastor the hint to drown you in knowledge so you could soak up energy, you were a unique one, the both of them agreed. But at this point, Alastor was willing to try anything to save you from death and leaving him

What the two did was this. Build a barrier around the bed, making it like a tank, then they worn out pages from various books and documents. The finale was dumping them all over you like a heavy blanket. You were literally drowning in pages now. It would be ridiculous to anyone that walked in on this

“Okay, now all we need is blood.” Lucifer nodded at the handy work. “You want to be the one to do it or…” “Ha! Is that still a question?” Alastor glared at Lucifer’s suggestion “Well, I mean. If Page Demon here takes my blood, there’s gonna be immunity built up. But, your call I guess.”

In the end, both of them dripped blood onto the countless pages around you. It was almost like a breathtaking art piece to admire. According to Lucifer, it’ll take a while. As for how he knew about this method, he was informed about it from you it seems

While Alastor was offended that you didn’t tell him, he understood that it was because you have yet to meet them then. Even so, he can’t deny that you still had your guard up around him even after he gave you his soul to command. It was that element of a duel personality you had that intrigued him

You were lazy and simplistic, yes. You have a mundane life that will bore him to death yet you hate bored yourself. Then there was your keen and observant self, like a flip side of you, or a darker side of you. Though it was rare for him to see, you were very possessive of your belongings and would rather destroy them yourself than have someone else take it from you. There was so much contradictory in your case that interested him so, too much that he fallen too badly for you

He knew the present you to a T. But he never knew the you before him, your history was something you kept close to yourself. Even more so when it came to your human life. All he know was that you were extremely against forming connections with people and that was a knowledge he loved learning about. Only when it was applied on others and not him

Still, he didn’t care. It was you that saved him and given him what he lacked. He wished the two of you met earlier, then again, he might have tried to take you as one of the many souls under him or taken you to torture for his broadcast. So he was fine with the way things were

“Darling…” Alastor’s breath was caught by an invisible force, he felt himself frozen on the spot while the door closed behind him “Alastor.” You spoke, though your speech a bit slurred and your glaze was a bit jumpy and fuzzy, you were awake. “This looks like my room, but I’m positive it’s not.”

No words were exchanged as Alastor lunged at you, hugging onto you so tightly. Your eyes widened, barely having the time to catch his form while the pages flew all over the place from his actions. This scene was familiar, he was hugging you this tightly before you entered your slumber mode. You hugged him back, ignoring the way your face was in his chest

Time stilled and so did the two of you. While Alastor was hugging the living daylights out of you, your memories replayed itself, as did your realization to your feelings for the red demon. You came to terms with it, you really did. How ironic when you were the one judging the characters in the stories you read and watch

“Alastor, I’m back.”

“Welcome back, my dearest love.”

Note: Wa la~ Done! Hope it is to your liking guys! I added a bit of other moments and extra end, cause just the battle scene was not enough and there was more to write! (I'm too lazy to separately post them, there's that)

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

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@youroneandonlysimp

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[howtofightwrite]

I've got a world-building/combat question. I have these two warring nations in my setting, both medieval-ish tech levels. One of them figures out how to make magical flying craft that are basically WWI airplanes. The other country invents dragon riders in response. Since then, they've been at war for ~60 years. I'm trying to figure out how the heck an air force would alter medieval combat strategies. If you've any suggestions, I'd appreciate it

The first, and biggest world building problem is that magic is part of your overall tech level. Ironically, Diskworld is an excellent example of how magical technology can basically function as an alternate path for social and technical development, though, honestly, a lot of high-magic settings tend to have tech leakage from magic.

One of the more common examples that comes to mind are “magical radios.” Either it's an enchanted device that allows person to person communication, or it's direct telepathic communication, but whatever it is, it serves a fundamentally similar role to a handheld radio, or (depending on how it works) a phone. The thing is, it's functionally a magical replacement, and it would affect society in much the same way those technologies have.

This is a long way to say, if your magical combat technology has WWI-grade planes, there is a very real possibility that a lot of your warfare is also going to be at a similar magi-tech level, if not more advanced. Having written that, I'm reminded of The Red Star comic series; though, that has a heavy Soviet aesthetic, and is not-at-all medieval.

Again, it doesn't really matter if you have fully-automatic firearms, or if you have a bolt thrower that conjures and propels crystals at hyper-sonic speeds into your foes. If they have a similar rate of fire, and similar accuracy, the meaningful change is texture. Your characters might see tiny crystal fragments shattered on the floor, or embedded into walls, instead of bullet holes. There may be no smell, or conjuring the crystals might leave a different odor. A handheld lightning projector might leave scorch marks, and a scent of ozone, for instance.

Magic might also factor into armor and defenses. If you can use a magical ward to dispel conjured objects, that might be extremely useful for fortifying specific targets against incoming conjured attacks, but it would likely be wholly ineffective against the lightning projector, or some other kind of directed energy beam weapon.

“Inventing,” dragon riding as a response to someone else making a magical airship, does strike me as an odd cause-and-effect. If dragon riding was that easy, it would seem likely that someone would have militarized them long before that point. Inventing flying objects that could function as a hard counter to dragons feels a little more natural. Or, magical, AA installations. Though, this is something that could probably be finessed, if you're really committed to the setup. It's also worth remembering that air superiority is an extremely potent advantage, even if you're not sure what to do with it, meaning that if one side suddenly had fliers, and the other side couldn't come up with a counter in short order, they'd be picked apart, and the war wouldn't have this 60 year timescale.

If it seems like I went to ranged weapons very quickly, there's a simple reason. You can't joust from a plane. Your options are to either propel objects at people, or drop things on them from above. Dragons also (usually) have the option to breathe fire on them. Now, firearms did exist in the late medieval era. So, that's not that far out of range. I'm less sure of the invention of bombs. At least, of the variety you could deliver to your enemy on the battlefield. Though, it occurs to me, you could probably use a catapult or trebuchet to deliver an explosive payload, if the explosives were stable enough to survive launch, but sensitive enough to detonate on impact. (Of course, if you have some kind of magically primed explosive, that stays stable until it is ejected from the catapult, and then explodes on impact, that would work.)

Looping back to the timescale again, this would require some pretty potent defensive capabilities. A dragon, with the ability to breathe fire, and the capacity for strategic thinking, could easily starve out an entire kingdom, simply by making a habit of torching all the cropland it could find. It doesn't, particularly matter if it gets all the food, so long as it torches a meaningful percentage of the available crops. When you have farmers going hungry, you're going to see food production dipping, exacerbating the problem. When you have soldiers going hungry, they're not going to be able to fight as effectively. When you have the peasantry going hungry, you're going to see civil unrest, and probably rebellions coming for their lord's head. You can't wage a war against a hostile nation under those circumstances. (In fact, there were multiple peasant revolts during the Hundred Years War, which basically stalled out France's ability to fight. England also suffered multiple peasant uprisings at roughly the same time. Though, those were motivated by taxation, which ends in a similar place.)

A related concept that's somewhat hinted above, is that wars are expensive, and both France and England found themselves facing uprisings because of taxation needed to support the ongoing war. (The irony being that both nations encountered this at roughly the same point in history. Roughly 40 years into the war.) A war that's been going for 60 years will likely have ravaged the economies of the involved nations. This isn't necessarily something that your characters would be aware of, unless you expand the context to show non-wartime economies.

The simplest explanation for why this happens is that any money you spend prosecuting the war are products that you never see returning value from. The money itself doesn't leave the economy, but the natural resources, and labor required, are expended non-productively (from the perspective of economic growth.) So, if you have a peacetime merchant, they're moving money around, but they're paying for their goods, and then those goods are going to consumers, who may also be contributing to economic activity with those goods (this even applies for food, you can think of that as a necessary component to any productive activity.) If you're a wartime merchant, selling weapons to the military, you are contributing to economic activity when you buy the weapons, but when they're sold to the crown, that's no longer productive. Those weapons leave the economy and never return. Worse, any soldiers who are permanently wounded, or killed, are also removed from the economy. Over time, this can destroy the most prosperous of nations. (To be clear, this is more advanced economic analysis than anyone in the middle ages would have had. So, the idea that wars are expensive was understood, but the exact reasons it slowed the economy were not.) And, this kind of thinking is another form of technological advancement. Ideas for understanding complex systems have become more intricate and detailed over time. While it's not the concept of, “invention,” that you might be used to, it is a similar form of progress.

So, how would this look in your world? There's a lot of potential consequences, most of which are not contradictory.

An impoverished lower-class is very likely. Whether that includes wounded veterans or not is a little more up in the air, though after 60 years, military pensioners, and those who suffered life-altering injuries on the battlefield are likely to be a common sight, either on the street or in the poverty line. (Especially if the crown is willing to enforce drafts and conscription.) At this point, that might be a very real possibility.

A struggling aristocracy is also likely, with former major power players who've declined into poverty. This might take the form of borderline abandoned estates that have been taken over by the crown or squatters. (Probably not both at the same time.)

Serious inflation is likely (and could be why formerly stable guild members, merchants, and even some of the aristocracy might now find themselves struggling.) I realize this point isn't something most really think of when you're trying to write a fantasy world, but it's worth considering. More likely this will be seen in food prices having increased over time. So the major symptoms you'd likely see would be decaying structures that no one has the resources to maintain, rising food prices, and generalized poverty. Even in a fairly magically advanced setting, a lot of these things would, likely, still happen. Of course, if the dragons have been used to destroy the agricultural base, things would be even worse in that nation. To be clear, food and taxation riots are not off the table there.

This is sort of a non-sequitur, but if you have a setting with classic transmutation (lead, or other base metals, into gold), you would actually see inflation with every batch of transmuted gold hitting the market. It's sort of an amusing note on the fantasy of being able to produce as much money as you want, but ultimately, it's actually harmful from a macroeconomic perspective. (Basically, the same reason counterfeiting is a problem.) Though, it is a possible hook for criminal groups in one of those nations, producing counterfeit gold via transmutation.

There's also a real world example from 2020, where a jewelry company had fabricated “fake,” gold bars as collateral to secure loans. In total, they claimed to have 83 tons of gold used to obtain loans worth over 2.8 billion dollars, from 14 different creditors. Except, when they defaulted on those loans, and were forced to hand over the gold, it was discovered that these were in fact gold plated copper bars.

I realize the question was about the flying forces specifically, but so long as that advantage is dealt with quickly, and neither side is able to monopolize air superiority, that's not going to change nearly as much as having that level of magical advancement would on its own, and of course, the general consequences of having a war that's been going on for long enough that multiple generations have died on the battlefield. That's going to a bigger effect on your world as a whole.

-Starke

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (AND x Constantine😜) Imagine WIP Part 9

Here we go my lovelies! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget. 

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that. 

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle. 

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money.  “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again. 

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table. 

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know. 

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now. 

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.” 

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown. 

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason. 

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him. 

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed. 

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him. 

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each. 

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room. 

Not now. 

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.  

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another. 

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick. 

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself. 

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.  

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces. 

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him. 

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat. 

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him. 

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.” 

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant. 

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him. 

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

------------

😬

it's on? 😈😈😈

@sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly

[another-lost-mc]

Your dreams are haunted when you sleep at the Demon Lord's castle.

BARBATOS x gn!Reader 0.8k words | NSFW | Dark/creepy elements. Implied non-con (somnophilia). The Creepy Castle AU [Part 1] NEXT

You feel haunted as you walk through the shrouded hallways of the Demon Lord’s Castle. It’s the middle of the night and you should be asleep.

You were asleep, until a fleeting dream left you gasping for air and gripping your sheets. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had strange dreams in this place. Diavolo insisted you have your own guest room available whenever late nights working at RAD made the walk back to the House of Lamentation too daunting. Last night you offered your help to Barbatos, and as the clock reached the eleventh hour he invited you to stay.

The room available for your private use is small but cozy, big enough for a comfortable bed and small writing desk in the corner. There is a painting above the dresser - a fallen angel, faceless with broken wings and feathers bloodied on the ground around them, and a serpent with hungry eyes lying in wait by their feet.

Sometimes you dream you’re on a bed of feathers and there’s a tail slithering across your skin. You wake up to the sensation of a tongue flicking against your thigh and aching arousal between your legs.

When you look at the painting, you wonder what the angel felt at that moment. Did they embrace the serpent’s tantalizing seduction? Did they feel the same rush of lust and fear that you do?

The castle is eerily still this time of night. It’s lacking the light and warmth you’re used to when you visit for dinner or attend one of Diavolo’s bustling parties.

You follow the candle lit torches to the kitchen. It's quiet and you think it’s empty, but then you see light under the door.

You knock softly before stepping inside. 

Barbatos looks up from his seat at one of the countertops. There’s an old-looking recipe book open in front of him, but when he sees you, he shuts the cover and pushes the book aside.

He looks different than usual. The top buttons of his shirt are undone and you can see glimpses of his pale chest. The sleeves are rolled haphazardly to his elbows.

It’s difficult not to stare - he never looks like this. You clear your throat and hope he doesn’t notice.

(Of course he notices.)

He sees your unsettled countenance and pulls a chair out for you so you can sit with him. He watches you stifle quiet yawns and he offers to make you herbal tea to help you sleep.

You both sit in silence. Your hands are wrapped around a warm porcelain cup. He leans an elbow on the counter and rests his chin on his hand while he watches you.

“Do you have trouble sleeping often?” he asks quietly when your cup is empty and you’ve refused a second serving of tea.

You shake your head. “I have dreams sometimes and they wake me up.”

(You don’t call them nightmares because they’re not nightmares, are they?)

“Would you like to talk about them?” he offers.

The thought of sharing even a glimpse of what your mind conjures is enough to make your face warm up for an entirely different reason. “No, thank you. Your company is enough.”

And it’s true, the companionable silence that settles over both of you is comforting. You're not sure how much time has passed. You don't even realize how drowsy you are - you almost make a fool of yourself and lean too far over in your seat in an effort to get more comfortable.

Barbatos is quick to catch you before you end up sprawled across his lap. His hands are gentle when he holds you against him.

“Let me escort you back to your room,” he says. You don’t have the energy to refuse.

The walk back is slow, fog-like, a blur. You don’t notice much else except for Barbatos at your side, his arm brushing against yours while you walk, and the soft shuffle of your slippers on the stone floor.

You think you feel something brush against your bare leg underneath your housecoat - but when you startle and glance down, you see nothing but your feet on cold, grey stone. Barbatos tips his head to the side questioningly, but you shake your head and keep walking while you swallow around the lump in your throat.

He opens your door for you but touches your arm gently before you step inside.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asks. In the dim lighting of the hallway, his eyes are like glittering pools of black water. 

Your voice cracks when you tell him you’ll be fine. You don’t know what else you could possibly want of him in the middle of the night. You can’t even begin to guess what he might offer you if you ask him to stay.

He bids you pleasant dreams when you slip into your room, and he closes the door behind you. You shrug off your robe and let it fall into a heap on the floor. The covers are cool when you slide into bed and you roll onto your side. You close your eyes and ignore the painting of sin in your room, the greedy serpent that follows you into your dreams.

Outside your door, a demon with a barely-there smile and forked tail waits for you to fall asleep.

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 3) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Cursing

Note: It's a bit late, but here's part three! It was initially longer, but I didn't want to make you guys wait too long. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll post the next part as soon as I finish editing it. Also, credit to the creator of the GIF.

Word count: 4,377

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Voices echoed through the halls as students lounged around before classes. Some were engaged in lively conversations, while others scrolled through their phones. 

The air remained charged with energy and excitement from the previous day's win, as proved by the many praises you received from students and teachers. The elating compliments usually made you smile in glee, feeding into your ego. Yet, today, you could only muster a mediocre half-smile. Fatigue overran your body as a result of a sleepless night. Thoughts of Wanda had invaded your mind with no plan of ever leaving.

How could they when you nearly kissed the girl? You had spent the night overanalyzing the situation. Initially, you thought Wanda wanted to kiss you, but you were unsure after her speedy escape. God, you were an idiot. You had ruined any possibility of her ever liking you. She probably thought you were a creep. The fact that Wanda couldn't even look at you throughout the day attested to your thoughts. Even now, as you were seated with your friends, you could sense the uncomfortable tension that had taken over before she left your car. You just wished your friends wouldn't notice anything, especially Pietro. 

"We should do something today." It was Natasha who saved you from your agonizing thoughts.

"What do you have in mind?" Steve asked, slinging his arm over her shoulder.

"Let's go to the movie theatre," she glared at you, "and you can't find an excuse not to go this time."

"I wasn't going to third wheel you and Steve," you defend yourself with a pout, crossing your arms.

"You wouldn't have to third wheel if you accepted a date from the many guys and girls who have asked you out," Natasha refuted. Wanda, who seemed to have been tuning out the conversation, instantly looked at you, causing you to feel more self-conscious.

"Ahh, you never told me this," accused Pietro, looking at you like you had just run over his cat.

Steve leaned on his elbows and playfully whispered, "She's quite the heartbreaker."

"I am not!" You snapped, feeling the heat in your upper body increase by the second. The three are stifling laughs, amused by your embarrassment. Wanda simply looked curious. "I am not, okay. I've never gone out with anyone-" you looked pointedly at Natasha, "-and you know I wasn't interested in dating."

"Are you interested now?" She provoked. When you didn't answer, she continued tormenting you. "Common Y/N, there's gotta be someone you like."

You rested your head on your arms, trying to hide from their analyzing gaze. You wanted to deny it but couldn't find it in yourself to lie, especially in front of the girl of your affections. Moreover, if the girl felt anything akin to your feelings, such denial would probably make her feel relieved you didn't kiss. So instead of answering her, all you said was a muffled, "Shut up."

Later that day, the five, along with Pietro's date, met at the movie theater and, after a majority consensus, bought tickets to the new Conjuring movie. The two couples sat together, leaving you to sit next to Wanda. You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. However, one thing was for sure: it would be difficult to focus on the movie when there was an apparent superior sight.

You really tried to concentrate on the movie; you swear you did, but you couldn't stop yourself from noticing Wanda's discomfort throughout the film. At first, you thought you were the problem, that your presence caused her state. Then, you noticed her ragged breathing and clenched fists, or how she would seal her eyes shut during the frightening scenes. 

Despite your qualms about your relationship with Wanda, you made a bold decision. Shielded by the darkness of the theater room, you dared to slide your hand over until your pinky touched hers. Wanda's already irregular breathing stopped at the action, and you expected her to move her hand in rejection. When she didn't, you summoned the last of your courage to entirely place your hand over hers, feeling Wanda's turn intertwining with your own. 

You struggled to contain the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips, but there was no controlling your racing heart and the swirling happiness that erupted in your stomach. You held hands for the remainder of the movie, and least to say, you paid even less attention, finding more comfort in the soft feel of her silk skin. 

You again offered to drive Wanda home, considering Pietro had to drive his date home. You reasoned that it would be awkward for Wanda to third-wheel her brother. Unlike the previous day, only the sound of the radio filled the atmosphere—neither of you daring to say a word of last night's occurrence or the hand holding. Feeling the increasing tension, Wanda finally decided to break the silence. 

"Have you started the book?" She asked, fiddling with her hands, keeping her eyes on the road. 

"No." You internally cursed yourself, having already forgotten about the reading. You had been too preoccupied with preparing for the game. "I need to check if they have it at the library."

"I figured you hadn't started." She giggled, and your heart skipped at the sound, "I can lend you my copy, don't worry."

You raised an eyebrow at her, "You're already done?"

"Mhm, besides, I've read it so many times I know it by memory." Once again, you pulled over in front of her home. "Wait here," Wanda instructed, hastily exiting the car. 

You assumed she didn't want a repeat of last night. Yet, not even two minutes later did Wanda return, walking to your side of the car. 

You lowered the window, taking the book from her outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. Though I am warning you, if I see so much as a scratch or bent page, I will kill you," she threatened, menacingly pointing her finger at you.

You scoffed and chuckled amusedly, "Wanda Maximoff threatening me over a book."

She shrugged nonchalantly and justified, "My books are my babies."

"Fair enough."

You expected her to bid you farewell, but she fidgeted in place, lips opening and closing before finally whispering, "Thank you- what you did in the theatre." Then, she quickly leaned in, kissed your cheek, and took off before you could react. 

You were left flabbergasted as your fingers brushed the burning imprint her lips had left on your skin, a sigh of delight leaving your lips. Wanda certainly had a way of spicing your nights. 

You returned home, Wanda's copy of 'Pride & Prejudice' in hand, still feeling giddy and dazed enough for your mother to notice.

"You okay, honey?" You hummed distractedly before biting your lip to contain a grin. Your mother recognized the lovesick expression you wore. "What's their name?" You furrowed your eyebrows at her question, and she clarified, "The person who has you love-struck."

You froze in place. Were you really that obvious? No matter, it wasn't a conversation you wanted to have with your mother. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mom. I'll be in my room." You could hear her laughter as you went up the stairs and into your bedroom. You stayed up until your eyes could no longer stay open reading, trying to distract yourself from Wanda. 

The next out-of-school opportunity you get to spend time with Wanda is Friday. One of your teammates was throwing a victory party while her parents were traveling. You weren't much for partying, but knowing Wanda would be there was motivation enough to assist. Knowing Pietro would probably drink, you decided to pick up the twins.

The three of you decided to find Steve and Natasha upon arriving. Once you did, Natasha offered you alcoholic beverages. You only took a sip of yours since you were the designated driver, and you had work early in the morning the next day—an easy weekend job at a flower shop. You noticed Wanda was also not keen on drinking, so you got sodas for the both of you. 

The five of you remained together until Pietro's girl arrived. Then, Natasha and Steve left, leaving you and Wanda alone. 

Finally, you took the opportunity to admire Wanda fully, from the black combat boots and ripped jeans to her signature red leather jacket covering yet another band teeshirt. Though you loved her outfit, your favorite part was her bright green eyes brought out by a sexy black eyeliner. You were a gay mess, to say the least. 

"You don't seem happy to be here," you commented, noticing her pout. Damn, she had such pretty lips.

"That's because I'm not. I'm only here because Pietro bribed me with new books. Now that I'm here, I realize it's not worth it, considering he left me alone," Wanda whined, playing with her rings.

"Alone? Am I that bad of a company?" You teased, enjoying the slight panic in her eyes before bursting out in laughter. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone."

Wanda felt grateful for your company as she wasn't one to party, especially since her friends weren't there. Shuri, Peter, and the rest of the science club had left on a trip. Monica had planned on coming until she came down with the flu. It was funny how things changed between you two. How, years before, she would have panicked at the thought of being so close to you. Now, she could only feel her chest flutter with butterflies as you rant about your thoughts on Pride & Prejudice.

Not long after, Peggy Carter interrupted you both, wanting you to meet someone. You reluctantly agreed after Wanda said it was fine, and you promised to return quickly. Peggy led you into the kitchen, where a muscular boy your age stood with a red solo cup. She introduced him as Sam Wilson, her friend from another school, before leaving you two with a mischievous smile. 

"I think she's trying to set us up." Although you appreciated the noble gesture, now more than ever, you wished to return to Wanda. 

He nodded and said, "Look, you're beautiful, but I have my eye on someone else." His eyes looked over your shoulder, and you followed his eyesight and came upon James Barnes, Steve's best friend.

"Don't worry, I do too. You should go talk to him."

"We don't even know eachother." He lowered his head, avoiding your eyes.

"I can help with that." You took his hand and led him towards Bucky. "Hey, Bucky. I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Sam."

Bucky immediately smirked as he eyed Sam. Pleased with your work, you dismissed yourself, ready to return to Wanda's side. But, much to your dread, the brunette was gone when you arrived. Maybe she was tired of waiting for you? Perhaps she had found Pietro? No, but what if it was something terrible had happened to her? 

Not willing to take your chances, you decided to search for her. You looked throughout the entire first floor and even outside with no success. You were going up the stairs to scour the second floor, your concern threatening to detonate at any moment. Then, you heard her voice.

"Get away from me!"

In a panic, you followed the voice, leading you into one of the more isolated corridors. Your sight immediately landed on Brock Rumlow, backing up Wanda against the wall. Your blood boiled at the sight, and you clenched your fist, ready to attack. Before you could interfere, Wanda raised her knee, striking him between his legs. Rumlow tumbled down as he groaned in pain.

"You bitch!" he cursed, attempting to reach her on all fours. You were sure she could handle him herself, but you were consumed with rage as you ran forward, slamming your foot into his stomach, causing him to curl into a fetal position. You were about to deliver another blow to his face, but a gentle touch on your arm pulled you away. You are met with Wanda's pleading eyes telling you it was enough. 

You lowered yourself, yanking Rumlow by the hair and saying, "No means no, you fucking piece of shit." Before succumbing to your desire to injure him further, you intertwined your hand with Wanda's and led her to the front porch. 

You sat on the porch swing, closing your eyes and resting your head on the wood. Your lips were pulled into a tight line, fists clenched, as you tried to control your labored breathing. Your mind had a different idea as it drifted about what could have happened if you hadn't been there. Wanda handled the situation well enough, but the knowledge didn't lessen the anger. For fucks sake, all you wanted was to go back in and rip him apart. 

"Are you okay?" her honey-sweet voice broke you from your thoughts, a dry chuckle falling from your lips.

"I should be the one asking you that." You glanced at her. "You're the one who that asshole was..." You had to stop to take a deep, shaky breath, "I just want to go back in there and-"

Wanda lifted her hands to your cheeks, gently turning your head so you would look at her. "I'm okay," she whispered, thumbs caressing the skin of your cheekbones. You were instantly entranced by her intense stare, soothing voice, and the addicting feel of her skin on your own. Her lips turned upward, causing you to glance at them briefly. "You know you're always saving me. First, Trent Griffin, and now this idiot." She lowered her hands, making you immediately miss her touch. 

"I won't take credit for Rumlow. You had him handled before I interfered." You smirked at her, "Perfect kick, by the way." Your compliment evoked laughter from you both, Wanda's hand falling on your own. This time, you took the liberty of interlacing your hands. 

"So, who'd you meet?"

"Huh, oh, one of Peggy's friends, Sam. She was trying to set us up."

Wanda's head whipped around so fast, you thought it would fall off. "What?" She questioned, all playfulness was gone from her tone. 

"Yeah," you responded, unwilling to look at the girl. "Total waste, though. He looked like a nice guy and all, but definitely not my type. Besides, he had his eye on someone else." Your answer quelled the uneasiness in the brunette. 

"Really? Who?" She asked, disinterested but trying to seem unaffected by your words earlier. 

"Bucky," you answered with a grin, thinking of the cute couple the two would make. You missed the double take Wanda made. 

"Really? Bucky?" She questioned, perplexed. Although she didn't know Buck that well, she was highly intimidated by the man. The way he appeared to scowl at anyone except Steve. 

You found her incredulity hilarious, but you loved teasing her even more. "Do you have something against Bucky?" 

"What? No," she hastily replied. "It's just," she sighed, looking down, embarrassed, "he's kind of scary."

You burst into laughter as Wanda pulled her hand away to cover her face. As your giggles quieted, you uncovered her face, lacing your hands again. "Wanda, don't let the mean face fool you. He just has one of those faces. Bucky is a literal teddy bear. He would dare hurt a fly unless you mess with Steve or Alpine."

"Alpine?"

"His cat. See, totally safe," you assured.

Wanda sighed. "Sorry. I'm not actually scared of him; it's just that he appears intimidating."

"He does, doesn't he," you agreed with a smile.

"Anyways, this Sam," she dragged out, playing with your fingers. "You said he wasn't your type," Wanda took a deep breath. It was now or never. She looked straight at you and asked, " Tell me, who is your type?"

You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs as you gasped for an answer. What were you supposed to say? That she was your type? That all you could think about day and night was her? Or how anyone paled in comparison to her? You didn't dare to say any of those things yet. 

Instead, you nervously laughed as you rubbed your neck. "I don't know.'

"Not, Natasha?" Wanda pressed.

Your eyes shot to her, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head. "No, no, no. That's not- No," you vehemently denied. "Nat, she's amazing, but no."

You took a deep breath, furrowing your eyebrows in thought. "Pietro, he's my best friend, and while you and I didn't speak much, I always appreciated your presence." Wanda listened quietly, yet still confused about what that had to do with the conversation. "So when the two constants in my life left, I felt lost. I didn't know what to do with my best friend. Then, Natasha came along. She's kind of been to me what you are to Pietro. Someone who grounds me and pushes me to do better. It's because of her I got into soccer, you know? She basically dragged me to tryouts."

Wanda nodded understandingly. The quiet remained for a moment.

"What about you, Maximoff?"

She shrugged, "I haven't dated either."

"Really?" You asked, surprised that the goddess before you had not dated either. However, it was cut short by her following words.

"Actually, I did go on a date with this guy in California. It didn't work out."

You weren't jealous, no. You were curious about who was the idiot who let her go. "Really? Why"

"Jarvis came from an affluent family. All that money made him quite pretentious. To tell you that on the date, he took me to his mansion to show off all his money."

"Jarvis? His parents were definitely setting him up for failure with that name." Wanda laughed and playfully bumped your shoulder. 

When your laughter died down, you were left in silence, facing forward with a hint of a smile remaining on your lips. It wasn't uncomfortable like in your car, but peaceful and reassuring. You stayed in that position until you realized how late it was.

"Let's find Pietro so I can take you home." 

It didn't take long to find Pietro and his date, Crystal. The two were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong. Only two cups were left closest to them, while four remained on the opposing side. From his intoxicated state, you deduced they would soon lose. Pietro's uncoordinated throw needed more momentum, and the ping pong ball landed inches from the red solo cup. It wasn't long before the game ended.

You and Wanda walked in hand towards her brother, only separating as you threw your arm around his shoulder. The other took the alcohol-filled cup from his hands and set it down on the counter. "Okay, buddy, that's enough. Let's go home."

"Oh, come on, guys. It's still early."

"Seriously, Pietro. It's eleven," Wanda scolded with crossed arms. 

Pietro wrapped his arm around Wanda, so you were both on either side of him. "Sistra, aren't you enjoying yourself?"

Wanda shot daggers at Pietro, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. "No," she gravely responded.

"Okay, okay, okay." Pietro squeezed you both. "We can go... after you dance with Y/N." He looked down at you with a grin. "It's a party, and you two haven't done anything fun. Come on." He released you and took Crystal's hand, leading her to dance. 

You and Wanda watched, taken aback. Wanda scoffed, but you felt humored at Pietro's suggestion. Despite the loud music filling the atmosphere the entire night, it was the first time you cared to listen. Suddenly, all you wanted was a dance with Wanda. 

 You turned to Wanda, outstretching your hand. "He's right, you know? Let's have a little fun. Dance with me?"

She glanced at your hand, hesitation clear in her viridescent eyes. Wanda was not much of a dancer; back in California, when Pietro forced her to go to parties, she spent her time in secluded corners with her friends. She regretted not accepting the countless invitations to dance; maybe she wouldn't be destined to embarrass herself in front of everyone. With that thought in mind, she picked up Pietro's discarded drink and gulped it down in one go. A little liquid courage is all she needed, Wanda thought as she dropped her hand into your own and followed you to the dancing group.

You saw the nervousness in her eyes; you won't lie, you felt in yourself. Your coordination only functioned in the field, not on the dance floor, but you didn't care. You wouldn't mind making a fool of yourself for Wanda. You had half a mind to follow her lead with a drink but held back.

You stood still among the dancing teens sticking out like a sore thumb. You were unsure of what to do with your hand. Should you hold Wanda by her hips? Would that be too audacious? Wanda felt the same, uncertain of how to proceed. Wanda found it comical that you continued to be a nervous mess despite your newfound friendship. Although she didn't mind, she enjoyed seeing the all-mighty Y/N and confident Y/N from her childhood shy because of her definite ego boost. It made up for the millions of times she had to hide away in fear of embarrassing herself when you were near. 

Wanda bit her lip, looking up at you from under her lashes, and she swears she could hear how you take a sharp breath. With foreign confidence, Wanda wrapped an arm around your neck and, with the other, took your hand, placing it on her hip.

"Is this okay?" 

You nod stupidly, flushed by the action. Frankly, Wanda's boldness turned you on. It took a few mental reprimands to let loose and get into the rhythm. The music took over your body as you moved in sync, each beat resonating in your chest. Your body came alive with the music and the electrifying touch of the woman holding on to you. Nothing else mattered as you gazed into her hypnotizing eyes.

Your body tingled as she brought you closer, locking her hands around your neck. You could feel the silk-smooth skin of her hips as your hands reached under her shirt or her fresh mint breath on your lips. You felt drunk on the feeling of Wanda. 

Similarly, Wanda felt euphoric like never before, and despite her earlier concerns about dancing, her body moved so naturally. Every cell in her body is reinvigorated by your touch and the way you slightly scratched at her swaying hips. Suddenly, she couldn't remember why she hated parties. Was it because you weren't there? It didn't matter, not when she could feel the tension building and building to a place of no return. She licked at her lips, alternating her gaze from your lips to your half-lidded eyes.

You couldn't hold back any longer as you raised a hand to cup Wanda's cheek, like water slipping through a broken dam, your restraint torn down by need. Wanda leaned into your touch with a sigh, relishing the softness of the action. At any other moment, the brunette would find it unimaginable to act in such a way, but she figured it was the alcohol feeding into her boldness.

The two of you had stopped dancing long ago as you engaged in a battle of who would make the next move. It wasn't that you weren't dying to taste her lips. In truth, the need became nearly paralyzing. Maybe if you had acted sooner, you could have saved the moment. 

As you leaned in to kiss her, a drunken stranger crashed into you, and you staggered back with Wanda in your arms. It seemed as if the universe had a vendetta against you by how it intervened. For a second time, you were deprived of her lips by the consequence of outer forces. 

The blow knocked you out of your daze, and with regained senses, you took in the frantic, inebriated man thrashing around. Wanda turned around in your arms, confused by the commotion. You protectively pulled her closer to your body and stepped back to prevent getting struck by the man as his friends tried to pull him away. The situation only got worse as the drunk man noticed a laughing group.

"That's our cue to leave," you said, ignoring the near kiss, more apprehensive about the unfolding scene.

After collecting Pietro and Crystal, you bid farewells to your other friends and made your way to your car. You and Wanda lead the way in silence, yet not uncomfortable. Though the near kiss rested heavily on your mind, unlike last time, there were no doubts. Of course, you felt disappointed in the interruption, yet some of you acknowledged it wasn't the place or time. You were sure the moment would come soon enough.

Your hand itched to reach for her, but you held back, unsure what Pietro would think. When you got your car, you rushed to open the door for Wanda, sharing a smile as you did so. Behind you, Crystal complained to Pietro about his lack of chivalry and how she needed to be more like you. 

The ride to Crystal's place was short, but the couple in the backseat made the ride feel eternal as they made out. You and Wanda looked at each other disgusted while playfully gagging. You chuckled, poking fun at the couple. After dropping Crystal off, you made your way to the Maximoff residence. The collective exhaustion became visible in the lack of conversation. Pietro's usual talkative self hummed to a song on the radio while Wanda closed her eyes and rested her head on the window.

On the other hand, you used the time pondering on your next move. Should you talk to Pietro first before asking her out?

The twins thanked you for the ride as you stopped outside their place. Wanda kissed your cheek goodbye when Pietro was distracted like the other night and left without another word. Pietro followed, but not before making plans for him to come over the next day. As they walked away, you could only stare, entranced by the brunette. She would be the death of you.

[99hook]

Chaotic Collaborations

Synopsis: The whirlwind of two polar opposites, a story line and unmistakable tensions in between

Warnings: pining, cursing, injury, depictions of blood, protective!hook, jealous!hook, angst, fluff eventually

A/N: welllll after who knows how long I’ve finally managed to conjure up the sunshine!reader x coldhearted hook fic! This was actually so fun to write I got carried away and it takes a drastic turn lmao I hope you love it babesss, enjoy!

(Takes place during the Hook and Jack rivalry)

(Also this shit is extremely long and I’m finishing it at 2am so bare with me if there’s grammatical errors, I’m sleepy lmao)

You were originally ecstatic over the shot at your very first story line when Tony pitched the idea to you. You’d been in AEW for a little over a year and had been hoping that you’d get a little more substantial tv time outside of your typical matches sometime soon, so when Tony called you to his office with an idea that was brought up to him, you couldn’t agree quick enough.

That was until the person you’d be doing the storyline with walked through the door.

The coldhearted handsome devil, as he frequently gets called. Someone you were somewhat familiar with due to seeing his matches in the viewing room from time to time, or him sitting alone in catering every so often, typically with a hatred look towards the whole world on his face.

A man you never considered approaching for the simple fact that he gave the impression that he was not to be fucked with, or even smiled at, for that matter. He was the last person you’d expected Tony to bring in.

“Hook, glad you’re here again. I know we’ve already been over this but now that we have your future partner here, I wanted to give you both the rundown. Have a seat.” Tony points to the chair next to you. He steps in, a hoodie over his head shadowing his eyes that glance at you before he silently takes a seat.

He brought a sudden energy to the room with his presence, one that made you feel a tad bit uneasy. Intimidated, more so.

“Y/N, Hook is who I’m pairing you with for this storyline. It’s come to my attention that the two of you are both crowd favorites and apparently a lot of fans want to see you two together. It would be great for the ratings and for both of your character developments.”

You nodded along, wanting to look over at the man next to you to see what he thought of this, though you kept your eyes on Tony. You knew that fans liked to talk about how you and some of the talent should pair up together, and there were a lot of edits on instagram of you and certain wrestlers that they shipped, but Hook was the least of your expectations.

“I’ll be putting you both in a group chat where I’ll send you segment and promo schedules and concepts, so keep your eyes out for that. Next week, during your match with Anna, Jack Perry is going to come out with the FTW title and hand it to her, and that’s when Hook will be coming out after him. The fans will think it’s all part of their feud until he comes to your aid when Anna hits you with the title while Jack and Hook are fighting on the ramp. That’s going to be the start of the entire storyline leading up to a tagteam match between the four of you.”

You listened intently, not wanting to miss a beat of the instruction. The storyline made a lot of sense since you and Anna did have some on screen animosity to begin with, and hook and jack have been at each others throats for some time now, so you could see the relevance to having Hook as your alliance.

“I’ll be sending you both a text soon on more details.” Tony said before he excused you both from his office. Hook silently got out of his chair and headed through the door without sparing you a glance. You weren’t sure if that meant that he was displeased about the storyline or if he just collected the information and went on his way.

You decided to try to talk to him when you both got into the hallway, but quickly wished you would’ve let him keep walking.

“Hey!” You jog up to him, reaching his side. He glanced over at you for a split second before he fixated his sights ahead. He didn’t greet you back, and that alone made you feel a little uneasy, but you still attempted to make conversation.

“I know we’ve never talked before, but since we’re about to do this whole storyline together, I guess I should introduce myself and all.” You managed a nervous chuckle, but he kept a straight face.

“I’m Y/N.” You continued on, feeling your nerves start to get the better of you, which is when you start rambling, usually.

“I mean, obviously you know that now since Tony said it, but, anyway, i just wanted to break the ice a little. This is all pretty new to me. I’ve never done a story line before so-“

That’s when Hook stops in his tracks, turning to face you. His stare was cold and jaw set. He showed no emotion, nothing at all, really. The way he looked straight into your eyes made you immediately shy away from that gaze. Your eyes dropped to the gold cross sitting over his chest similar to the one you had tucked underneath your shirt that you wore as a good luck charm.

You wanted to pull it out and show him that you had one too but something told you he wouldn’t care about that at all.

You glanced back up into his eyes, the ones that were strongly fixated on you, managing to push past the nervousness he made you feel until you heard him say, “Let’s save the talking for the scripts.”

He held his eyes on you for a second longer before he turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. You didn’t bother to follow. It was clear that Hook didn’t care to make conversation with you, and he wanted to make sure you understood that.

———

You were sitting in catering with Skye and Willow, oblivious to their conversation due to the thoughts that kept swirling around in your brain. It had been a week since that very first interaction with Hook and tonight you were going to be starting the whole storyline.

Skye noticed how you barely paid attention to the conversation and decided to ask you what was going on. You had yet to tell them about the storyline since talking to Hook, or attempting to, didn’t go over so well.

“What’s going on with you?” Skye’s voice reached you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You could’ve said it was nothing to save yourself the conversation but they were going to know about the whole storyline tonight, so you decided to spill it all.

“Tony’s giving me my first storyline.” You say, watching as a smile spreads across both of their faces before the confusion sets in.

“You don’t seem too excited?” Willow commented.

“I mean, I am, but… Well, okay, so you know how Hook and Jack Perry have that whole rivalry going on right now?”

The girls nod slowly, clearly they were still a bit confused.

“And me and Anna have a match tonight, so Jack’s going to come out and hand her the FTW title so she can knock my ass out with it,-“

“So then Hook is going to come out to save you.” Skye figured. “So is it like, an on screen dating kind of thing?”

“I don’t think so. Tony said we’ll end up teaming up against them, so I’m pretty sure it’s just alliances.”

Willow’s lips spread into a smirk before she looked down.

“Are you nervous about it or something? You’re the one who said you wished you’d get your shot at a story line and now you’re talking like you don’t want to do it.” Skye said, but you hardly heard her when the man who’s been racing through your mind came walking through the catering doors.

Willow noticed your eyes immediately finding him, following him as he headed around the perimeter of the room to take his seat in the very back.

“I think she’s nervous.” Willow grinned, clearly with insinuation but that’s when you quickly tore your eyes away from the man in question and back to them.

“No, it’s the fact that I tried to talk to him after we left Tony’s office, y’know, introduce myself and break the ice since we’re going to be working together, and he literally looked me dead in my face and told me to save the talking for the scripts.”

Both of their jaw’s dropped and Willow’s eyes cut over to the man, shooting him a look he didn’t see since he was on his phone.

“That’s fucking rude.” She said.

“Yeah, and we haven’t spoke since.”

“I mean, he kind of does look like that type of guy. He’s always by himself, always looks like someone pissed in his cheerios, maybe he’s just a dick. I’d just stick to the storyline and don’t bother with him outside of that if he’s going to have that kind of an attitude.” Skye says before she grabs her phone and stands up from the table.

“Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll be watching your match from the viewing room tonight though. You’re gonna do amazing.” She smiles before she heads out, leaving you and willow at the table.

“I agree with Skye. Just try to enjoy your first storyline despite his negative attitude.”

You nodded, then your eyes adverted over to the back of the room, for some reason you felt strongly compelled to steal a glance of him, only to find his eyes locked on you.

You felt your stomach twist suddenly and looked away immediately, but you could still feel the powerful gaze he possessed burning a hole through you, and you weren’t sure if that meant you should look back again, maybe try to go talk to him, or leave the room all together.

“Oh my God, he’s staring at me. Don’t you fucking look, Willow. Don’t make it obvious.”

Willow didn’t, but it was clear she wanted to. You could practically feel his dark eyes on you from way across the room, and you couldn’t help the way it made the pace of your heart quicken, out of the sheer nervousness that his presence hasn’t failed to make you feel.

“He’s leaving now.” Willow whispered as her eyes followed him around the room before she dropped them to the table. “He’s gone.”

————

You couldn’t help but to be nervous but you attempted to put it all aside as you clutched you ribs, lying on the canvas after Anna kicked into your side, probably a little harder than she should have. You knew what was coming as soon as Jack’s music hit and he came running down the ramp with the FTW title in hand.

You grabbed Anna’s feet before she could reach him, swiftly making her fall flat against the canvas in an attempt to protect yourself from the inevitable. That’s when Hook’s music hit and a sudden pop from the crowd made your ears ring.

He didn’t run down the ramp like Jack did, but it took him only a few seconds to get his hands on the man. Hook snatched the title and threw it to the floor before he threw a series of punches to Jack’s chest, while you and Anna were throwing punches to each other’s jaws. She was hitting you with a force that felt a little more personal than just entertainment purposes. You wondered if she meant that or not.

She grabbed your wrist and slung you against the turnbuckles, hitting your back so hard you sprung foward and fell to your knees. It was all planned, but you were taking one hell of a beating.

That’s when Hook and Jack had the referee distracted enough for Anna to grab the belt. Just as you were getting on your feet, you felt the impact against the side of your head knocking you down flat, staring up at the bright lights of the arena as she pinned you.

The three count came fast and her music rang through your ears. You laid there like you were dazed and confused and thankfully she didn’t actually hit you with it too hard. You had a little pain but nothing like it would’ve been if she would’ve intended to knock you out cold.

The crowd was booing jack and Anna both, but they roared with cheers when Hook slid under the ropes. You felt a warm hand sneak beneath your shoulder before he helped you sit up. There was no script to go off of so you weren’t sure if anything should’ve been said, but nobody would’ve heard over the thousands of screams piercing your ears.

Taz was on commentary hyping the interaction up for the added affect of the viewers watching on tv.

“I don’t know when those two became friends, but I’ll tell you one thing, Y/N has a good one in her corner. If Hook has your back, you know you’re gonna be alright. Jack and Anna better watch out now boys.”

Hook leaned down and grabbed your hand, pulling you up to your feet. The crowd was absolutely wild, and it was a reaction you really didn’t expect. He silently nodded towards the ramp as he let go of your hand. You walked ahead of him, slipping out of the ropes and making your way towards the tunnels, clutching your side and your head for the added affect.

You looked over your shoulder to find hook close behind, his eyes locked on you the second you spared a glance. Just before you reached the tunnels, you heard his voice, somehow over all the commotion around the arena.

“Wait” he caused you to turn around, now inches apart from you. Your eyes widened when you realized the closeness, before you felt his hand grab yours again and hold it up in the air, turning you towards the crowd that was on the verge of losing their minds.

He pointed at you, nodding as he took in the reactions. You were trying to soak it all in but it all had you confused. Assuming he was really good at selling, you tried to ignore the fact that his harsh words had been running through your mind for the past week, but due to that, you didn’t expect all of this.

He dropped your hand and nodded towards the tunnel, letting you lead the way. As soon as you got away from the chaos in the arena, you turned around to face him. Part of you wanted to ask why he was so rude to you last week but the other part of you was screaming for you not to.

Hook’s brows knitted together when you looked up at him. The last thing you probably should’ve been thinking about was the first one that came to mind simply because your brain did that sometimes.

He was wearing a black hoodie, black pants and looked like the walking depiction of darkness with the way his hair casted over nearly half of his face. Meanwhile you had on all white ring gear coupled with white nails and the comparison must have looked nothing less than polar opposites when you stood side by side.

But then you heard him say, “Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?”

That’s when you realized you’d just been staring up at him, feeling your cheeks immediately burn beneath your skin when he called you out for it. Hook saw the way your face flushed and a rosy tint dusted over. Then he noticed a gold cross sitting against your chest much like his own. He didn’t comment on it, obviously.

You wanted to redeem yourself but couldn’t muster words at that point and he stared down at you awaiting a response or simply for you to move out of his way, which is exactly what you did.

The second you stepped to the side, he slipped past you, brushing your shoulder on his way down the hall. You stood there with a bit of a dumbfounded look on your face as you watched him leave without sparing you another glance.

———

Another week passed by and again, you and hook hadn’t spoke, but your tagged photos on instagram were nothing but you and him from Dynamite the week prior. It was funny how many fans were going crazy for a duo that was anything but when you weren’t on cameras.

You’d looked down at your phone when it buzzed and a text from Tony came through. You were put in the group chat with a 363 area code and debated whether or not you should save him in your contacts.

The text was the instructions for a segment later on. You and hook were going to be spotted talking in the hallway. He sent the full script and with only an hour to memorize and apologized for the last minute scheduling.

You were typing back when another message popped up. It was from hook, nothing but a short and simple reply saying, “All good” meanwhile you’d typed almost a whole paragraph about how it was okay, don’t apologize and you were going to get to memorizing right now. Needless to say, you deleted that and typed back, “No problem, I’ll have them memorized.”

You then scrolled up the long message, unsure if you could actually sell this with such a short amount of study time. You didn’t want to screw up on live tv.

Your lips moved as you read over the lines. It would’ve been way easier if you could actually rehearse them with someone but clearly hook wasn’t going to be down for that and Skye and Willow both had the night off, which was the reason you were sitting alone in catering.

You tried to focus but you felt that feeling again. Eyes on you, unavailable. He was somewhere in the room and you could feel it. He was staring at you again, and you didn’t even have to find him to be able to tell that.

You couldn’t keep your mind on the script now that you knew you were being watched. You wondered why he was staring in the first place. What was his problem with you after all?

The temptations got the better of you and you finally tore your eyes from your phone, only to find him sitting directly across from you at the next table over. Like you already knew, staring.

He didn’t bother to snatch his gaze off of you. He was shameless about the way he watched you. You couldn’t help it when your nerves grabbed strong hold of you and out blurted, “Are you just gonna sit there and stare?”, loud enough for the people around to hear, earning their attention.

Hook didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t even blink. Didn’t move a single muscle and that’s when you decided to get up and walk over to him, despite the way his dark eyes made you want to take off running.

You approached his table and took a seat directly across from him. He tilted his head back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. His brows raised in an expectant manner and you could feel the eyes of talent all around focused on the two of you.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” You called him out the same way he did to you last week in the tunnel. He kept a stoic expression as his eyes dropped down to your phone in hand on top of the table. He decided to avoid your question to ask one of his own.

“You think you can sell that segment later?”

Caught off guard, you felt your brows knit together, looking down at your phone which served as a reminder that you needed to be studying those lines.

“I’m gonna do my best.” You answered honestly, looking back at him. “Are you not going to go over your lines?”

“I already know them.”

“The text just came in like five minutes ago.” You pointed out.

“And I already know them, and yours.” He coolly states before he grabs the bookbag from the seat next to him and stands up. “Don’t mess up.” He says before he tries to leave.

“Wait!” Your voice didn’t do you any favors when it came out a little squeakier than you intended, but it kept him there. “Can you help me go over them?”

He stared down at you, face unreadable as always. There was a pause before he said, “If I didn’t have to get ready for my match, maybe I’d consider.” Then he headed out of catering, leaving you alone at the table.

———

You headed down the hallway where you were supposed to shoot the segment. Hook was already there, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand. He had his ring gear on, a couple red marks on his chest and sweat glistening off his skin. He must have just came back from his match.

Nobody else was around yet. You slowly walked over to him and stood against the opposite wall in front of him. He finished typing something before he picked his head up and looked down at you. You did your best not to spare him a glance as you continued going over your lines.

“It’s a little late to be trying to memorize them now.” You heard him mutter.

“I think I have them memorized, actually.” You look up at him, now leaning back with arms crossed. His hair was absolutely unruly and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh when you saw it up close. The way it was standing straight up over his head reminded you of Chicken Little.

“What?” His brows knit when he catches your reaction.

“Sorry” you shake your head and wipe the smirk off your face. “It’s your hair.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s like, standing straight up.” You point out, watching his eyes squint at you.

“It’s hair. It does that.” He deadpanned.

“Mine never does.”

“That’s ‘cause Anna’s always pulling yours out.” He bantered back, and for the first time you thought maybe you saw his lips tip up in a smirk, but as soon as you caught it, he wiped it away.

“She is not always pulling it out. That was one time. And that was so long ago, how do you even know that?”

Silence suddenly filled the hallway. He didn’t have an answer for that and thankfully for him, the cameraman made his way around the corner just in time.

“Alright, ready?” He calls out to the both of you. You take one more quick glance at your phone before shoving it in your pocket and taking in a deep breath.

Hook pushed himself off the wall and whispered, “Don’t mess up.” Before he stood behind you, close enough that when you turned around, you had to put a little space between you.

“Action.”

“Y/N.” Hook suddenly spoke. “You can’t let anyone walk all over you in this company. It’s time for you to take control. You need to start fighting fire with fire.”

He was right when he said he had his parts memorized. It was so effortless to him. He went from one persona to the next in a matter of seconds.

You tried to hide the surprise on your face and snap into character. He eyed you skeptically, you could clearly tell he was expecting you to mess up.

“I don’t want to play dirty, Hook. That’s gonna be my karma when it comes back to bite me.” First line down, you didn’t think it was too bad.

“Or maybe Anna Jay and Jack Perry’s karma is us. Did you ever think about that?” He raised his voice and took a step foward unexpectedly, backing you against the wall. You were suddenly flustered but knew you had to force that away.

“Jack knocked me out with the same title Anna hit you with. My FTW title. They’re cornering you and you’re allowing it! What’s gonna happen when you’re in the hospital with a concussion next time and I can’t save you?”

His chest started heaving as hot breaths fanned against your skin. He was way too good at this.

“What do you want me to do, Hook? You want me to be evil like they are? That’s not me!”

A second passed and you saw the way his eyes dropped down to some other part of your face, suddenly making you self conscious about whatever caught his attention. Then, he leaned in even closer, his chest brushing against yours when he inhaled.

“If you’re gonna be with me, you have to be tougher than this. That sweet, innocent personality of yours isn’t going to get us anywhere, and I’m not gonna stand by while you let yourself get assaulted every week. It’s time to start fighting back, Y/N.”

Half of that line, you didn’t recall memorizing. It threw you off a little bit, and thanks to that, you couldn’t remember your final line. You suddenly got anxious, mouth falling open with no words coming out. Hook picked up on this, not letting too much time pass before he tried to jog your memory.

“You don’t have anything to say? You’re okay with these people tormenting us? You want them to take everything from us?”

You hoped he could hear you silently thanking him. You knew that wasn’t a line but he kept it going for the sake of embarrassing yourself.

“If you want me to fight back, then let me do it my way.” You recited, shooting him your best glare for the dramatics. “I’m not turning cold for you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t beat her ass so bad she’ll wish she never stepped foot in a ring with me.”

His lips turned upwards in the faintest hint of a smirk and this time you were certain on it before he quickly brought that straight face back for the camera and nodded his head saying his last line.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Cut”

The camera man left you and hook in the hallway. As soon as the camera wasn’t on you an enormous weight was lifted off of your shoulders, finally able to take a deep breath, but the air around quickly got suffocating all over again.

Hook didn’t move. He was still standing close enough to you that you felt pinned to the wall. He held those infamously dark eyes on you for a moment, studying you. In his mind, he didn’t see the value of having you as a partner. He couldn’t understand why he got paired with someone who looks like they’d cry the minute someone raised their voice.

You just appeared to him as a sweet, innocent person and not in the way that he intended for it to be a compliment. Sweet and innocent wasn’t his thing. He needed someone just as coldhearted and vengeful as him.

Nevertheless, he was with you now until this storyline ends and his dad told him during a conversation they had a few days prior, that he needs to look at things a little bit differently. Taz seemed to think that he needed someone like you by his side. The coldhearted handsome devil needed a conscious and in his dad’s mind, a babyface with the reputation of being a walking ray of sunshine was the angel on Hook’s shoulder.

He carefully considered his dad’s perspective, but then aroused ideas of his own. A concept that he pitched to Tony that you had no idea what was coming. Plans to take your squeaky clean image and transform it into something greater, something more complimentary to himself.

You eyed him, swallowing past a thick lump accumulating in your throat before you managed to speak in a voice almost weary.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Hook’s head tilted to the side, as if he was intrigued by the simple question. Your wide eyes reminded him of a skittish puppy ready to bolt, and he was surprised you haven’t yet.

“I thought you had your lines memorized?” He countered your question.

“I did, until you decided to improvise.” You quickly blurted, feeling like you exaggerated that defense. His brows raised slightly from beneath the thick hair against his forehead before he took a step back, putting space between you for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

“See you next week.” He muttered before he disappeared around the corner.

———

Two nights later, as you got cozy in bed, just about to doze off, your phone buzzed with a text from that same area code you recognized as Hook.

“been talking to my dad. you need to learn redrum. im in the hotel gym”

You glanced at the time, nearly baffled when you realized it was one-thirty in the morning. You texted back a quick reply.

“Right now? This can’t wait until tomorrow? And why do I need to learn your moves? I have moves of my own.”

You stared at the message until the delivered turned into read at 1:32 and locked your phone until he texted back.

“im going to bed at 2”

You stared at that simple little message and knew it was basically him not giving much of an option. You huffed as you slid out of bed, never minding to change out of your sweatpants or do anything with yourself for that matter. It was almost two in the morning. You should be asleep.

The elevators brought you down to the first floor. You headed across the lobby towards the gym. You could hear the sound of a punching bag being hit three times each even through the closed door.

You walked in, to your surprise finding Hook and Taz both. Taz was keeping the punching bag steady while Hook threw his fists into it, but that came to an abrupt halt when taz spotted you first.

“Ah, there she is.” His voice echoed through the empty room. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.” He chuckled, turning to his son. “Tyler and I have been talking about that upcoming tagteam match between you and the goofballs, we think if the crowd saw a double redrum they’d go nuts.”

You glanced at hook, now with the new knowledge that his name was actually Tyler, and for some reason that’s all that registered in that moment. He was looking at his dad, not even sparing a glance in your direction until Taz gave him a strong pat on his bare back and said, “I’ll leave you to it son. Your mother’s waiting for me.”

You held the door open to let him through, offering a faint smile. Taz stopped before he left the room, looking over his shoulder at his son, “Polite too” he commented, and you weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean but didn’t ask either. “Don’t hurt him too bad.” He muttered with an amused grin before he headed out.

You closed the door and stepped a little farther in the room. Taz seemed to have taken that lighthearted energy with him when he left because once again, the air was thick. It felt hot and heavy in your lungs and it made no sense to you why that was always the case when you were around him.

He stood at the front of the room with his hands on his hips. He looked like he’d been at it for hours what with the way his cheeks were bright red and sweat was covering every visible inch of his body, and drenching his hair.

“Do you always work out at two in the morning?” You asked as you drew a little closer, feeling like you were physically walking on eggshells.

“I go to sleep at two.” He replied, rather breathlessly. His eyes adverted down to your t-shirt and sweats, and the fuzzy slippers you put on before you left the hotel room. “Apparently you do too.”

“I was almost asleep when you texted.” You defended yourself and your cozy loungewear. “I’m not going to throw on a whole outfit just to come down to the gym.”

“Real shoes either.” He countered.

You looked down at the slippers and then back up at him. “They’re comfy. I don’t care.”

“Clearly.” He nodded. “Doesn’t matter. You familiar with any of my moves at all?”

You could’ve told him that you’d watched some of his matches in the viewing room before but something told you that he would think you were weird for that, so you simply shrugged and said, “kind of, not really.”

The way he eyed you made you think he knew you were lying.

“Never seen me do redrum?” He questioned, raising his brows.

“Maybe like one time.” You lied again, and that’s when his eyes narrowed, as if he was reading right through the bullshit.

He pushed his hair back and let his hand fall to his side with a smack to his hip before he stepped away from the punching bag and over to a bench, grabbing an almost empty water bottle and chugging the rest.

He crumbled the plastic before tossing it in the trash can halfway across the room and walking back over. He stood in front of you. It seemed to you like the man didn’t know the definition of personal space.

“Are you familiar with a half nelson at least?”

You shot him a questionable look, feeling the sarcasm dripping from his question.

“Pretty sure everyone is.” You crossed your arms, deadpanning on him in an attempt to dish it right back. His lips fold in and that’s when you couldn’t help but notice a dimple on his right cheek.

“Alright then-“ he held his arms out to his sides. “Put me in one.”

You shot him another look, wondering if that was a serious request or not. He stared at you, clearly waiting. It didn’t seem probable since the man towered over you.

“How do I do that when you’re like, six foot tall?” You asked, holding your own arms out. “I’m obviously too short to reach.”

“Size doesn’t matter. It’s the way you utilize your body. Anna’s taller than you, how do you expect to put her in a choke? Wait for her to get down?”

“I wasn’t planning to until you said I needed to learn your moves. I have a couple of my own.”

“And clearly they don’t work too well.” He counters comebacks quickly, you realize.

“If you can’t reach, use your legs first.” He instructed, suddenly having a more serious edge to his voice. “If that means you have to jump on their back, then do that. I’ve had to a time or two.” He shrugged before he waved you foward.

You dropped your arms and eyed him skeptically. An uneasy feeling was trying to take over simply because the thought of wrestling around with a man twice your size didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

“You’re not gonna sling me over your shoulder or something, are you?”

You caught the brief flash of confusion that crossed through his eyes before they returned to that cold stare he perfected.

“No, Y/N.” He huffed in annoyance. “I’m not gonna do anything but let you take me down. I’m gonna fall foward though, not back, so if you go flying off of me that’s on you.”

In his mind he was wondering why you were so apprehensive about this. Did you really think he was going to hurt you? He might not be all that friendly but he didn’t have intentions to harm you. Either way, he pushed past those thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

You nodded in understanding before you circled around him, taking a step back for more momentum when you sprung foward. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, knees locking in underneath his ribs and you heard a low grunt reverberate through his throat.

“Am I hurting you?” You loosened your legs but felt his hands grab them, keeping you wrapped tightly around him.

“Nope, always keep your legs tight. I’m good. Lock it in.”

You did as you were told, snaking one arm beneath his jaw and the other under his arm, bringing it up and pushing his head down until you felt him falling foward with a low, “Fuck” beneath his breath.

You held on tight as his knees hit the floor and he tapped on your arm quickly. You unwrapped yourself and stood back up, offering your hand to help him to his feet, but he ignored it.

“Was that right?” You asked, feeling somewhat prideful about the way you just brought a six foot tall, two hundred pound man down to his knees with his own finisher.

He nodded, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, that was right.” He cleared his throat. He then eyed you with a somewhat unreadable look on his face, eyes slightly narrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve never seen that before?” He resorted back to his previous question from earlier.

“I told you I have once.” You reminded him, but again, human lie detector comes out of him and it was evident.

“Most people don’t get it right the first time after seeing me do it more than once.”

“Well I did.” You shrugged, watching as he peered those eyes at you, reading straight through the bullshit once more just to hum in response.

“Not very believable but alright.” He muttered before he walked over to the bench and sat down, grabbing his hoodie and tossing it over his shoulder. You felt your clothes sticking to your body with sweat that wasn’t your own and peeled the fabric from your skin, just for it to stick right back.

Hook noticed this. “You got a little sweat on you.” He comments obviously.

“Do I? I didn’t notice.” You sarcastically replied, and another unreadable expression played on his face, one that had you wondering what he was thinking, but you didn’t ask. It returned back to that blank, emotionless look moments after.

“I have a match Wednesday.” He said as he ran his hand through his unruly hair. “You should probably be ringside.”

“Did Tony say that? I haven’t heard anything.”

“I’m saying that.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking up at you. Your mouth clamped shut with that response. He clearly saw the mixed reaction playing on your face and made it a point to clarify.

“The more we’re together, the more we’ll sell.”

But something told you otherwise and you weren’t sure what. Something was nagging at you about his actual motives. If you remember correctly, he didn’t seem too pleased about being paired up with you to begin with.

“I didn’t think you cared so much about this storyline.” You tested. “You seemed really unhappy about it when we were in Tony’s office. And after, especially.” You referred to the first little conversation, or lack there of, in the hallway.

He looked down at his knuckles and a few scars on them before he looked back up at you.

“If we have to do it, I want to at least make it good.” He said, ignoring basically everything you just said. “That means we need to sell it. So we need to be seen together a lot more. Nobody’s gonna believe it if we’re only shot on segments and nowhere else.”

You nodded, understanding that fact.

“So when I have a match, you be there. When you have a match, I’ll be there.” He then stood up and threw on the black hoodie you always saw him wear at work before he walked past you, muttering a low, “see you Wednesday” under his breath before the gym doors shut behind him.

———

“Sounds like he wants to fuck you.” Willow bluntly stated after you told her and Skye all about what’s been going on lately. You felt your cheeks practically burn your skin but looked away in an attempt to hide it.

“Agreed.” Skye adds in. “Looks like someone’s not so coldhearted after all.”

“No, he definitely is.” You affirm with a quick nod. “He’s just good at selling a storyline. He’s a different person on camera than he is elsewhere.”

“He looks pretty angry all the time to me. On camera and every time I pass his grumpy ass in the halls” Willow chuckled and you couldn’t help but do the same. “And if he’s trying to sell the story purely, I don’t think he’d bother getting you down to the gym at almost two in the morning.”

“Well it was to teach me his finisher for when we have that tagteam match.” You justified, but they didn’t buy it.

“That could’ve waited for a day time hour, Y/N.” Skye tried to convince you, but there was no use in that. You looked at the time and realized his match was starting soon. You got up from the seat, thankful for an excuse to leave the conversation.

“I’m needed ringside.” You tell them, noting the smirks on their face before you left.

Hook was already in the gorilla waiting for his music to hit when you finally got there. His back was turned and head hung as he pushed himself back and to against the bars.

“Hey.” You breathlessly said, due to nearly racing to be in time. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder as he kept doing what looked to you like mid air push ups, assuming it was just something he did to get amped up.

His eyes adverted down to your shirt. You didn’t have a match tonight so you didn’t bother throwing on your ring gear. He was wearing all black this time, and you were wearing a bright yellow top and black shorts.

“Hey sunshine.” He said with a condescending, mocking tone as he eyed your apparel.

“Sunshine? Why? Because of my shirt?” You asked. “Was I supposed to match you or something?”

He shook his head and dropped it, exposing that dimple again. He pushed himself off the rails to stand up straight, looking down at you rather dramatically with the way he dropped his head.

“I didn’t say anything about your clothes.”

“You insinuated by the way you looked at my yellow shirt, then called me sunshine.” You pointed out, watching an amused grin spread across his lips before he dropped his head to cover it. You know you weren’t mistaking.

It was then that his music hit and the pop of the arena was already ringing your ears. He headed through the tunnel and you followed, unsure what you were actually supposed to do now that you were here.

The crowd went crazy when hook came out, but nearly insane when you popped out right behind him. He stopped at the top of the ramp to look amongst the sea of faces, and you endured it all next to him. You turned to look at him, only to find him staring down at you.

He nodded towards the ring, signaling for you to take the lead, so you did. On commentary once again, Taz was hyping it up for the viewers at home.

“That’s hook right there folks. The coldhearted handsome devil. He’s being accompanied by one of AEW’s crowd favorites, Y/N for this match. These two have been joined at the hip ever since Anna Jay knocked her upside the head with the FTW title. They’ve got each others backs, I’ll tell you that much.”

If you could hear commentary it would probably make you laugh just how much his dad sells the storyline.

You stopped at the end of the ramp and waited for hook to walk down. He stopped next to you for a moment, the cameraman panning in on the two of you taking in the crowd reactions before he nodded towards where you would be standing, signaling for you to take your place while he rounds the ring.

When the bell rings and the match gets started, you watch on from where you stood leaning against the canvas. You’ve seen a few of his matches but never up close. It was clear exactly why he was favored in this industry. His quickness and agility was otherworldly. He was fast thinking and cleverly destructive.

He made quick work of getting his opponent down. It had only taken about three and a half minutes and the redrum was locked in, and seconds after, his music boomed through the arena.

You clapped genuinely, watching as he got to his feet and slipped out the ring on your side. He nodded towards the tunnels and by this point you already knew to take the lead while he walks behind you. No idea why he prefers it that way, but you didn’t question.

When you reached the stage, you stopped and turned to face the crowd. He got up next to you and looked at you questionably when you grabbed his wrist, even though he already knew what you were going to do.

You raised his hand in the air and listened to the crowd explode. The pop was unlike anything you’d witnessed yourself, and it was doing a pretty good job at bringing your confidence level way up.

“Probably one of AEW’s most unlikely duos. The coldhearted handsome devil and Y/N look like night and day standing next to each other.” Excalibur mentions on commentary.

“Their appearances may be complete opposites but don’t let that fool you my guy. These two are a force to be reckoned with.” Taz adds.

You get halfway through the tunnel when you look over your shoulder to find hook trailing closely behind you.

“Good job.” You smile at him, though he doesn’t return the smile back. You didn’t expect him to, anyway. He hummed in response and dropped his head, ruffling his hair.

Just then, a text came through to your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket and read the group chat message.

“It’s Tony.” You tell hook. “He said me being ringside was a nice touch for whoever’s idea that was. Want me to tell him it was yours?”

“Nah.” He shortly replied. “Did he say anything else?” He asked, seeming a little curious.

“No.” You told him, watching as he nods once. “What do you think we’ll be doing next? Another segment? When even is this tagteam match happening?”

“Ask him.” He mutters.

He wasn’t saying much all of the sudden which confused you. It was like he retreated into a shell after he decided he didn’t like the outside world for the two minutes he experienced it.

“Are you tired?” You asked, noticing the questioning glance he gave you.

“No?”

“Oh. You sound tired.” You added as you headed down the hall with him, unsure where you were actually going since you just got caught up in talking to him.

“Not tired” he sighed, giving you the impression that he didn’t want to talk at all anymore. Or maybe he never even did in the first place.

“Alright well, I’ll see you next week then.” Your voice was far weaker than his was. He slowed down but didn’t stop, muttering “alright” before he kept walking down the hallway, leaving you standing in the middle of it for what felt like the hundredth time watching him leave.

———

A text from Tony came through two days later. It was a graph with the ratings for Wednesday night’s show and apparently the interactions with you and Hook brought a lot of attention on.

You were typing a reply when another message came through. It was next weeks plans for the two of you. Reading over it, you couldn’t help but to be confused. Apparently you were supposed to interfere in one of Anna’s matches that Jack was going to be standing ringside for. This time, you were going to be the one using the belt against her after hook takes it from jack.

Sounded like heel work in your opinion.

You didn’t reply due to the fact that you weren’t sure what to say, but hook did. His message came through a few minutes after the text was sent and was nothing but a simple okay emoji.

That night, you received a text from hook. It was short and simple like all the other ones had been.

“you own any black clothes?”

You felt like you could feel the sarcasm through the screen. What kind of question was that?

“Why?” You replied, not having much time to close your phone before another one came through.

“so we can match”

You understood the reasoning but weren’t super thrilled about black of all colors.

“Do you own anything other than black clothes?” You retorted. This time there was a pause between messages.

“what color do you want to wear, y/n” if you were standing in front of him having this conversation you just knew he’d have that bored look on his face. You thought for a minute about a reasonable color. Then decided on one he probably would glare at you for.

“Got anything yellow?” You grinned to yourself knowing that he was probably going to roll his eyes at that one.

“no.”

“Fine… Blue?”

“no.”

“Red?”

“no. wear black wednesday”

You stared down at that message for a moment debating on what to say back. You looked across the room at your suitcase overflowing with clothes but you already knew the only article of clothing you brought with you that was all black was a dress you wore to go out in. Nothing reasonable for the show.

“I don’t have anything black suitable for tv.”

“how would something not be suitable? just wear it”

You sighed deeply as you walked over to your suitcase and pulled out the dress that you only wore once simply because it rode up way too high all night long. You threw it on the bed and snapped a picture, sending it to him.

“This is it and I’m not wearing it.”

There was a couple moments that passed before you received a message back.

“i don’t see the issue”

“It’s revealing.”

“so is your ring gear but you still wear it?” You stared at that message wondering why you were standing in the middle of the room arguing with that man right now. And still, you continue to do so.

“That’s ring gear. That’s different.”

This time, a good five minutes pass by before he replies. You had just tossed your phone on the bed when you figured he was done texting only to grab it almost as quickly as you tossed it when your phone buzzed again.

“ill bring one of my hoodies then”

On the other end of the phone, Tyler was sitting at a restaurant table with his dad going over the next couple of weeks.

Taz was the one who told him that the two of you should match and it would probably do good at winning over the crowd and the viewers, but he was thinking more along the lines of his son wearing something other than the typical black attire he exhausts.

“It’s funny seeing you two up on that stage” taz chuckles as he digs his fork into his pasta. “You’re like the moon and she’s the sun, for now at least”

Tyler’s eyes lifted from his phone. He was staring at the three little dots while he awaited your response. He said he’d bring you one of his hoodies and for some reason he was apprehensive about sending that message. It felt like odd territory to him to be letting you wear his clothes, but apparently all you had was a little black dress you didn’t feel comfortable wearing.

“And I’ll tell you another thing, when you two team up in that ring, the fans are gonna lose their freakin’ minds”

Just then, a text came through and for some reason a slight smile landed on tyler’s lips, until his dad called it out.

“Who’s that?” He questioned, trying to lean foward to steal a glance at his son’s phone. He was quick to lock it and stuff it in his pocket.

“Y/N.” He muttered before he dug his own fork into his food.

“Have you talked to her about the turn yet?” Taz asked, and Tyler froze for a second.

“Nah, not yet.”

“She doesn’t know?” He questioned, looking a bit taken back. “What does she think the plans for you two are? You have to tell her, son.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll figure it out on her own.” He grumbled, leaning back in his seat and dropping the fork against his plate.

“Tyler” taz shot him a look, “It was your idea. You need to be the one to tell her straight.”

And it was his idea. He approached Tony shortly after he left you in the hallway that first time the two of you talked, and pitched the idea that you should have a heel run by his side. Tony wasn’t apprehensive at all. To him, and to Hook, the idea of an America’s Sweetheart type of personality completely doing a 180 with the coldhearted handsome devil was golden.

It was just that he told Tony that he’d talk to you about it and never did. Plans had changed from the originality of the first idea and you had no clue about it.

“What’s gonna happen when she’s supposed to go out in front of thousands of people as a heel, and she’s thinking she’s still this babyface character?” Taz reasons, making Tyler drop his eyes to the table.

“She needs time to prepare. It’s not easy going a complete 180 son. Especially not if you wait until last minute to tell her.”

He retrieved his phone from his pocket and read your message back.

“Thank you” was all you said. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he finally managed a response. It was hard to put it into words for some reason and when he realized what it sounded like, he had to send a double text for clarification.

“can you come to my room later”

“to talk. it’s kinda important”

———

Later meant way later than you expected when Hook sent you the text letting you know what room number he was in at midnight.

Regardless of how tired you were, you were way more anxious than anything to figure out what was so important. You reached room 235 and knocked on his door. You heard some shuffling around before he opened it, hair even messier than usual and eyes low, like he was on the verge of passing out himself.

He stepped back and waved you in. You walked in and eyed him as he walked around you. He didn’t sit down anywhere and you didn’t make yourself comfy either. This was awkward. Probably the most awkward encounter you’ve had with him yet.

Truth was that he was a little nervous. He didn’t know how you were going to take the fact that this entire time, you were working on a heel turn without even knowing it. And he was the one behind it all.

He looked down at you, leaning against the wall as he contemplated the best way to go about the conversation. He never really got nervous about anything so this was fairly new and rather uncomfortable for him.

“Did you get that message from Tony about Wednesday?” He started off by asking, and you slowly nodded. You eyed him, trying to read an unreadable man.

“What did you think about it?” He was doing a good job at reading you though. Wasn’t hard since you had a tendency to wear your emotions on your face. He could tell you were skeptical of him in that moment by the way you stared at him solely. He’s seen that look from you a couple dozen times already and the only other one he can recognize that easily is the look you give when he makes a smart comment to you.

“You mean about me using the title to hit Anna? It sounded like heel work to me.” You told him, watching as he nodded.

“Cause it is.”

You blinked twice. “I’m not a heel.”

“I talked to Tony about this storyline a while back. We agreed it’s a better idea if you have a heel run with me.”

You stared up at him, a bit lost. The original idea was for the babyfaces to win in the end, since jack and Anna were already heels. Now it turns out that you had a whole new character transition coming you didn’t even know about in the first place and frankly, you were unsure how to feel.

“Wait so this whole time I’ve been working on turning heel? And you knew that and didn’t tell me?” You peered your eyes at him, glaring. “Why not?”

“Never had the chance, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Never had the chance?” You felt your eyes form into small slits. “You had plenty. How come you got to decide what I do with my gimmick and I didn’t even get the chance to give my opinion?”

Just then, a voice popped into his head, belonging to his dad. Women don’t like when you lie to them, son.

He didn’t intend to lie. It just happened that way. He kind of assumed you’d catch on with the whole heel turn thing and not ask questions but now that he knows you a little better, he knows better than that.

“Your goody two shoes persona wasn’t working well for you anyway, Y/N. We knew it wouldn’t sell for a storyline like this so we came up with something better. If Tony pitched the idea you wouldn’t be getting all fired up at him”

“It’s not the fact that I’ll be turning heel, it’s the fact that nobody told me. Especially you.” You pointed out. You weren’t even mad about the new plans. You would’ve agreed to it anyway if that was the first idea Tony pitched, but you were walking around with no idea what was coming for you and that alone made you more nervous than you needed to be.

“Maybe you didn’t realize, but this is my very first storyline. The last thing I want to do is blow my chance at another one and I’ve been going around absolutely oblivious to the fact that I’m expected to do a whole heel turn in who knows how soon, and you just let me look stupid when you were the one who unrightfully came up with the idea in the first place!”

You rarely yelled at people and he rarely ever got yelled at. It was heightening the tensions between both of you and he expected as much, but didn’t foresee you chewing him out this bad.

“You’re not going around looking stupid! Tony gives you the rundown every week. You know what’s coming and if you didn’t by now you would’ve figured it out.”

You were somewhat baffled by his defensiveness. There was no true justification to what he omitted and he probably knew that full well and just didn’t want to admit he was wrong.

“Yeah, like last minute!” You shout, not meaning to be as loud as you were but you couldn’t help it. “This means something to me, Tyler!”

The use of his name took him back a little and you didn’t mean for that to slip in the first place but for some reason Hook wasn’t the first name to come out in that moment.

Just then, there was a knock on his door that caught both of your attentions.

“Go away” he shouted, but that’s when his dad’s voice reached both of you.

“Open the door, son.”

He rolled his eyes as he walked over. Opening the door and taking a step back so taz could walk in. It was strange to see him wearing pajamas but you ignored that.

“I can hear you two across the hall. What is going on in here?”

Tyler looked at you for a second before he looked back at his dad. “She’s not happy about the heel run.”

“No-“ you stepped forward, correcting him. “I’m not happy about being lied to.”

Taz gave his son a look. A stern I told you so kind of glance.

“Alright” taz held his hands up, “I get that, Y/N. I told this man that he needed to let you know what was going on and not at the very last minute. He doesn’t listen to nobody but himself and half the time that steers him wrong.”

“Clearly.” You huffed out, crossing your arms.

He turned to Tyler and shrugged. “This one’s on you bud. Make it right but keep it down. We don’t need to draw attention.”

You nodded and taz made his way back out, leaving you and Tyler alone once again. He dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair, thinking.

“I’m not happy about this.” You state.

“Couldn’t tell.” He muttered under his breath. The fact that he had the audacity to be sarcastic was mind blowing to you. It made you actually want to scream at him but the last thing you wanted was Taz to come back and give you both some sort of lecture or something.

Tyler picked his head up, tired eyes landing on you. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. It was a half ass apology but the only one he’d ever given. He never really cared to give anyone that type of respect, or what he thinks is respect in his mind.

“There was no reason why you kept it from me.” You remind him, watching him nod.

“I know.” He sighed.

“And I have a right to be mad right now because my whole entire image is about to change dramatically and I haven’t even been prepared for it.”

“Yeah, but you’re not doing it all on your own. You’re doing it with me. I’m turning too.”

“Yeah, but you had time to prepare for that.” You pointedly state. “How much time do I have? Literally I’m about to start at the next show and I didn’t even realize it.”

“It’s not something you really have to prepare for, Y/N. You just go out there and put on a show. It’s not much different than what we do right now.” He walked around you and made his way to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

“It’s different for me. I’m not mean in general. I need to practice.”

You watched a weird look cross over his face, bringing his lips up in a faint smirk. “You’re not mean?” He quirked a brow. “Not even a little bit?”

“No?” You shrugged.

You heard a low chuckle before he looked down at his phone in hand. You sighed when you realized that this conversation was probably going nowhere fast and the best thing you could do was accept the reality of the situation and work with what you’re dealing with.

“Since you seem to think it’s easy becoming a whole different person, tell me where to start.” You plopped down on the chair awkwardly positioned halfway across the room. His eyes lifted from his phone before he tossed it to the side.

“It’s just acting, Y/N. It’s not like you’re becoming a different person all together. It’s literally one day out of the week that you put on a tough face and sell a gimmick. There’s nothing complicated about it. You’re complicating it yourself.”

You glared at him and the annoyance that was so evident in his tone. He sighed and leaned back on his hands, his eyes lowering by the second.

“I guess just start acting like you hate the world. Go out there and give everyone the biggest eat shit look. Be a little more aggressive in the ring and more no fucks given outside of it.” He advised, watching you nod before you stood up from the chair.

“So basically, be more like you.” You pointed out. Before he could respond to that, you held up your hand to silence him. “Got it.” You said before you left his room.

———

“Doesn’t make sense why he didn’t tell you.” Skye says as you and her head down the hall towards catering. “It’s literally your gimmick changing.”

“I know.” You roll your eyes. You were sick and tired of thinking on it. At this point you’d decided to stop wishing you would’ve known beforehand, since clearly there was no changing that, and take the bull by the horns.

Even though Tyler told you that nothing really changes, everything was about to. Your persona, your ring gear, especially your attitude. You had a lot of winning over to do and you were determined to use this transformation to the best of your ability. No matter how bitter you might feel about the fact that he kept the whole thing from you for weeks.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna be a good heel. I’ve been thinking about all of it. I have tons of ideas and I’m starting to actually get excited about it.” You told her, rounding the corner.

“Speak of the devil.” Skye muttered. “Want me to wait up for you or are you good?”

“I’m good.” You nod as you watch him slowly approach with a black hoodie on and one draped across his shoulder.

He got a look from Skye as she passed by but he didn’t pay attention. He pulled that hoodie off of his shoulder and handed it to you wordlessly. You eyed him as you took it from his hand and threw it over your own shoulder. You hadn’t spoke since that night in his room and he’d been meaning to ask you if you were still mad but never ended up doing so.

The look you were giving him was telling him the answer is definitely yes, you’re still mad.

“I’m going out tomorrow to get some different clothes for my heel era so Ill give this back to you after we’re done tonight.”

“Alright.” He nodded, watching as you pull the hoodie off and hold it up to see it better. Clearly it was going to swallow you whole.

“This might as well be a baggy dress on me.” You pointed out as you held it against your body, showing that it falls nearly to your knees. He noticed the same thing.

“You can cut it if you need to.” He shrugged. “To make it fit decently.”

Your brows knitted together as you looked back up at him. “If I’m giving it back why would I cut it?”

He shrugged again, looking down at the large hoodie covering you whole.

“You can keep it. I don’t really care. Might need to match again sometime later.”

For some reason he was being nice and it was strange to you. You’d chalked it up to the fact that he feels guilty for lying to you. As he should. You tossed the hoodie back over your shoulder.

“I’ll deal with it. You can have it back later.” You say before you brush past him and head down to catering to meet up with Skye.

“What happened?” She asked when you took a seat. Her eyes adverted to your shoulder. “Is that his hoodie he was just wearing?!” You could see the thoughts rolling around in her mind and quickly shut them down. You slung the hoodie down on the table.

“No, not the one he was just wearing, Skye. Just one of them.”

“You’re wearing his clothes? What did I miss in the last five minutes?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “He texted me a few days ago telling me I needed to wear black so we could match and I told him I didn’t have anything. So he brought me his hoodie. I’m giving it back right after our interference and getting some new clothes tomorrow.”

She held a weird grin on her face before she looked down at her phone. “Mmkay.” She chuckled.

“What?” You peered your eyes at her.

“Nothing it’s just- it’s funny.” She shrugged.

“What is?”

“The fact that you pretend to be so annoyed by him but you’re willingly going to wear his hoodie.” She pointed at the clothing on the table. “It’s funny.”

“I don’t pretend to be so annoyed by him. He actually does annoy me. I tried to be his friend but he’s so hot and cold all the time. He will be a decent person one minute and an asshole the next, it’s exhausting.” You rambled, making sure she got the point but judging by the smirk on her face, she didn’t buy it.

“Right.” She nodded. “Well it’s almost nine. You should be meeting up with lover boy for your interference in a few minutes.” She teased, earning another roll of your eyes as you stood up from the table with a huff. “Don’t forget his hoodie.” She said before you snatched it up and headed out of catering.

He wasn’t there when you got to the gorilla but you knew he’d show soon. The directors were standing by, seemingly waiting for Hook so they could send you both out at the right time.

You took that time to toss the hoodie on, and it did nothing at all for your figure. It was far baggier than you expected, so much that the sleeves swallowed your hands.

You heard footsteps behind you tracking fast and turned to face the man in question. He took one look at you and his lips turned up in a smirk he was clearly trying to hide.

“This thing is huge on me.” You deadpan.

“I told you to cut it.” He reminds you. Then he reaches down to the ends of the sleeves and rolls them up so your hands are exposed. “Can’t fight if you don’t have fists.”

You stared at him while he rolled the other sleeve up. When your hands were exposed you pulled your hair out of the hood and did your best to make yourself decent before the music hit. As much as you could given the circumstances, at least.

Tyler held his gaze on you for a moment longer before he tore it away the moment your eyes connected, looking down at the floor and fluffing his hair. For once, you matched. You’d noticed his gold cross pendant he was wearing and remembered the one you had on yourself.

“Funny.” You said dryly. “I have one too.”

You pulled the necklace out from under the hoodie and laid it against your chest. He looked down and nodded. “I noticed.” He said, just as your music hit.

You turned around and got ready for your first appearance leading up to a heel turn. You didn’t want to psych yourself out about it, but you felt a little nervous.

“Never thought I’d be coming out to this type of song.” He commented from behind you.

“It’ll be changing soon, evidently.” You muttered before heading down the tunnel.

Anna was staring at the stage when you and Hook came through the tunnel. He threw on his best scowl and it made it a little easier for you to mimick him. Jack came racing up the ramp, hook moving you to the side before he lunged towards Perry.

He snatched the belt clean from jacks hands and tossed it over to you. The crowd went completely and utterly insane as the boys backed down the ramp, throwing punches everywhere they could visibly see of each other’s bodies.

You raced towards the ring as anna was sliding out of it, calling jacks name over and over in an attempt to get him away from hook, and as soon as she had noticed you getting close, she turned around and you slammed the title into the side of her head like she’d done to you weeks prior.

She fell to the floor and Jack immediately rushed to her aid, screaming and cursing you and Hook as you held up the title and shouted back, “This is gonna be his. You just wait! It was always his!”

A proud smirk from hook was caught on camera but you didn’t get to see it. He knew that there were no lines to this. You just came up with something and the fast thinking was what really got him.

Jack then got up to his feet and raced towards you both, but hook stepped in front of you and held his arm out, blocking Perry from getting any closer.

On commentary, everyone was eating the whole situation up.

“Looks like the coldhearted handsome devil has made quite an impact on Y/N!” Excalibur shouted through his headpiece. “This is wild!”

“That it is my friend. I said it from the start. Those two are an absolute force to be reckoned with. God help jack and Anna. Wouldn’t wanna be those clowns right now.” Taz chuckled.

You and hook walked back up to the stage and just before you were about to head through the face tunnel, he grabbed your wrist and nodded his head to the left.

You looked up at him, realizing it was happening this soon. You heard the commotion from thousands around the second you let him lead you through to the heel side, in your mind, you made it official. You were no longer the babyface you’d been for over a year. The transition was starting faster than you’d expected but, it felt a tad bit easier to have someone doing it with you.

“That’s not a shock to me. I could see that coming with those two. Bonnie and Clyde of AEW.” tony announced from commentary.

“Y/N and Hook have made their impression here tonight, and they’re just getting started boys.”

You couldn’t deny that you had an adrenaline rush running ramped. He turned around to let you catch up to him before you entered the hallway.

“How’d it feel?” He asked.

At that moment you almost felt thankful to him for pitching the heel turn idea to Tony in the first place but then you remembered how he kept it from you for weeks. Either way you were able to not let that bother you for the time being.

“Kind of exhilarating. Did you hear that crowd?” You say as you round the corner. There’s looks being sent your way from multiple talent. In your mind it’s judgement but in all actuality they’re wondering how long you and Hook have been hooking up on the low.

“Yeah, they loved it.” He says. He walked a little slower than usual. Usually he was ready to get to the shower but he didn’t mind talking to you a little before that today. He wouldn’t tell you that though.

“I didn’t expect it.” You say. Just then someone calls your name. You turn around and find that it’s Ricky. He reaches his hand out to dap hook up but his eyes stay on you.

“That was fucking crazy what you did out there.” He tells you, making a grin spread across your lips. “I never expected you to turn heel, especially not with my man Hook.” He throws his arm around hooks shoulders, and he stiffens them immediately.

“Next time you’re on I need a heads up so I can watch in the viewing room. Both of you.” He looks at Hook who suddenly has a stiff jaw. He picked up on a vibe Ricky was emitting and he didn’t like it. He didn’t know why but he wanted to get you away from him.

“Thanks Ricky.” You smiled before he nodded his head and gave Hook a pat on his back. “Good choice man.”

You didn’t miss the way hooks eyes followed him all the way down the hall. He suddenly looked like he reverted right back to the version of him you had an unfortunate encounter with weeks ago.

“You okay?” You asked, but he didn’t look at you until Ricky was out of his sights. Then he turned back started walking. You followed close behind, reaching for his arm when you realize you were being ignored.

“Hey” you stopped him. He turned to face you but kept his head down, staring at the floor. “Why do you suddenly look so mad? What just happened?”

“I’m not.” He picked his head up. You could see it on his face. It was clear as day whether he wanted it to be or not.

“You are though.” You attested. “Did he do something to you? I thought you were friends.”

“Can you drop it?” He quickly cut in with a sharp tone. You took a step back, almost feeling like his words forcefully pushed you away. He noticed the distance you put in and his eyes seemed to have softened, but only for a mere second.

He turned back towards the hall and muttered, “see you next week, Y/N.” Before, once again, he left you there watching him go.

———-

“Clearly jealous.” Willow nods dramatically.

“Obviously.” Skye agrees.

“That’s hard for me to believe.” You tell them as you adjust your ring gear. You had a segment to shoot tonight in the ring. It was going to be the first time you actually talked in front of the crowd and you were beyond anxious about it. Tyler was going to be in the ring with you but he wasn’t going to say anything and the fact that you hadn’t spoken to him since that last conversation made you even more nervous.

“Because he wants you.” Willow smirked. “And if you haven’t already heard, everyone is talking about it.”

“Who’s everyone?” You asked as you strapped the laces on your new shoes. It was going to be a little difficult to break in another pair but you assumed that was the price you pay when you turn heel and can’t wear bright, glorious colors anymore.

That was the whole reason you donned an all black attire tonight. Black nails to match. It was never something you expected to wear but if you were going to be a heel you were going to rock it.

“Everyone as in everyone in this building right now.” Willow says. “People keep wondering how long you’ve been secretly hooking up under everyone’s nose.”

“But we’re not.”

“Not yet.” Skye points. “I give it two more weeks and you’re going to send us a picture from his room.”

“I give it one and a half.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the bench. “It’s not gonna happen. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then why did he suddenly get all weird when Ricky came up to you?” Willow raised her brows. “Skye, please tell me, why would a man do that?”

“Because he’s jealous. Because he wants you.” She answered, and you shook your head back.

“Whatever. I have to go. I have a segment in the ring in about ten minutes.”

“Good luck. We’ll be watching from the viewing room.” Willow calls out as you head through the door.

To your surprise, Tyler was already waiting for you when you reached the gorilla. To his surprise, you looked like a certified heel. The new attire and dark makeup, it looked way too natural on you.

He had on that signature black hoodie which reminded you of the one you had laying across your bed that you forgot to give back to him.

“Shit, I forgot I still have your hoodie.” You blurted, watching his dark eyes linger down to your attire before they made their way back to your face.

“Told you to keep it.” He said. It was clear he was in another one of his moods again tonight. It was really starting to bother you how he switches so fast, but right now the last thing you needed was to get in an argument and forget your lines. This time you knew you had them memorized thanks to staying up until three am studying them.

“I’ll give it back next time I see you.” You mumbled before music started playing and a song he recognized, but not as your own reached his ears.

“You changed the music?” He asked as he stepped to the side to let you lead.

“I’m a heel now, remember?”

You slid past him and made your way out. It was strange knowing you could no longer interact with the fans. Usually you’d blow a kiss or tag their hands but now you practically ignored them. At least they were engaged and supportive of this new you, so it seemed. Or maybe they were just going crazy over the two of you. Either way, you weren’t the ones getting boo’d.

You plastered a scowling look on your face and tried to keep it there as you made your way to the ring. Hook followed closely behind you, trying not to bob his head to your music.

You slid under the ropes and he took the steps, but you both met back in the middle. You took a minute to take in the reactions from the crowd. It was something you had to try hard not to smile about. Which was going to take some work.

Tony Schiavone handed you a mic and you snatched it from his hand, all for the dramatics, of course.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven’t already noticed, you’re looking at two of the absolute best AEW has ever had to offer you.” You pointed at Hook who nodded his head, stepping side to side on his feet.

You weren’t being boo’d, which came as a thrill to you. If they were eating it up you just wanted to give them more.

“When Anna Jay and Jack Perry made the unfortunate decision to target us, we made the decision to fight back, and what you saw last week when I knocked that bitch out with Hook’s FTW title-“ you paused to make sure the fans were taking it all in, “It was just the beginning.”

You looked over at Hook who continued to nod, chewing on a piece of gum as his eyes scanned the crowd.

“And when Anna recovers from that blow to the head she took from me, I’ll be waiting. And as for Jack, well” you chuckled darkly as you nodded towards your partner, “Let’s just say Hook was some fun things planned for him.”

He looked over at you, and you could see a faint smile on his face before he ran his hand over his lips.

“You see, I realized something a little while ago. You know, after Anna smashed the FTW title into my head?” You reminded the crowd of weeks ago.

“It’s that being nice gets you used and abused. All the times I’ve let that bitch get away with attacking me, I regret it. I really do, but it’s alright, because it will never happen again.”

The crowd popped when you took a pause, but you had to keep that cold expression on your face.

“So Anna Jay, Jungleboy, if you’re watching from the hospital, I just want to say, get well soon. Please.” The camera panned on you and you shot a mischievous grin before you dropped the mic and heard the crowd scream their lungs out.

Your music hit and Hook walked over to the ropes, holding one up for you to slip through.

You headed towards the stage, trying not to let a smile break out. You felt his arm brush yours as he walked alongside you.

When you disappeared through the tunnel you huffed out a deep breath. “Fuck that was exciting.” You chuckled as you placed your hand over your racing heart.

“Fun isn’t it?” He asked as he squeezed into the space next to you.

“Yeah, really fun.” You said before rounding the corner to find Skye standing there. Her match was next but you’d forgotten that in the mix of everything. Her eyes lingered to the man next to you before they fell to you with a smirk plastering her face.

“That was hot.” She remarked as she walked up to you. Tyler stopped when you did, to your surprise and Skye’s.

“You think it was good?” You asked.

“It was perfect. You are doing the damn thing, isn’t she hook?”

You could see what she was doing and tried to send her a look but her eyes were on him instead.

“Yeah, she did real good.” He nodded. That’s when she looked at you again and caught the look you sent.

“You two are a good duo. Can’t wait to see what comes next.” She ran her hand over your arm before she brushed past you.

Tyler looked back down at you and you hoped he didn’t pick up on Skye’s insinuations. He did, but he didn’t mention it.

He started walking when you did, and again, you saw all the people around with their eyes on the two of you. You wondered if Skye and Willow were right. Did everyone think you and Tyler were hooking up? And if so, why? You didn’t think you gave that impression at all. It was just acting, like Tyler told you.

Truth is that Tyler had been approached quite a few times, being asked about you more often than not. He never gave anyone a straight answer, which obviously left them to make their own assumptions.

“Everyone keeps staring.” You whispered.

“They’ll do that.” He muttered back.

You were heading towards the locker room when Jeff Hardy came around a corner, a smile brought to his and Hook’s face when they saw each other.

“What’s up man.” Jeff greeted, “And ma’am.”

“What’s up” hook nodded.

Jeff’s eyes adverted between the two of you, then landed back on Hook. “When are we gonna see this duo beat some ass?” He asked, “I’m ready for it.”

“Whenever Tony calls the shot.” Hook shrugged. “I’m ready too. I think we both are.” He glanced at you. Jeff brought a full fledged smile to Hook’s face pretty easily. One you hadn’t seen from him in all the weeks you’d been around him.

“It’s highly anticipated. From a lot of people, actually.” Jeff chuckles and hook drops his head, seeming to try to hide that smile that you evidently caught.

“We can tell.” He says.

Jeff’s eyes switch back to you again before he looks back at Hook. Both men were grinning from ear to ear as if they had some sort of secret telepathy going on.

“Alright well I’ll see you around brother, and you maam.” He nodded his head and you nodded back.

“Alright bro.” Hook said before Jeff walked around the two of you.

“Best friend?” You teased, watching as he brought his hand to his mouth, physically wiping away that smile.

“Something like that, yeah.” He said as the two of you made your way towards your respected rooms.

“Kind of cool how everyone likes our heel turn. I thought we’d get hate for it.”

“We still might, but it’ll be alright.” He shrugged. You reached the end of the hall that branches off into two opposing directions and it hit you that this was the first time he hadn’t left you standing in the middle of it.

He stopped and turned to face you, adjusting the collar of his hoodie.

“You did good out there.” He tells you, surprisingly. “You should think so too.”

You were somewhat dumbfounded at the fact that he actually complimented you without underlying sarcasm. You smiled even though you didn’t mean to, assuming your lips had a mind of their own.

“Thanks.” You say as you suddenly feel the air getting thick, but not as suffocating as usual.

Hook nodded before his eyes adverted to the empty hall behind you. He didn’t have anywhere to really be, but he told you he did.

“I’m gonna go shower.” He lied for no reason. You just nodded. You felt your hands clamming up, sweat spreading across your palms and didn’t like it.

“Alright well, see you next week?” You didn’t know why you asked. Of course you’d see him next week. It’s been like that for a while now.

“Yeah.” He nodded before he brushed past you, heading one way while you headed the other.

————

A text from Tony at eleven in the morning got your attention that following Saturday.

“This is it. Big match Wednesday.” Was all it said.

It felt like you’d anticipated this whole thing for so long and now that it was coming you weren’t sure how to feel. You stared down at the message until another one came through, but not on the group chat.

“you ready?” He asked, clearly referring to Tony’s previous message.

“No lol” you replied back, but you were being honest.

“you’re ready” he quickly responded, and all you did was stare at those words for a minute to long.

Why it was making you nervous, you weren’t sure. Probably because it was your biggest match to date and held a lot of value to your current heel run but, what happens next? What happens when you and Hook beat Jack and Anna? Is there even going to be a you and Hook anymore?

Lots of questions were left unanswered because you were too hesitant to ask them. You just decided to play it by ear, but the thought of a heel run all on your own wasn’t very appealing to you. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, having Hook alongside you, sort of paving the way for all your antics made things less worrisome and a lot more fun for you.

You truly couldn’t picture doing it without him and that alone was something you never expected.

Another text came through and you were surprised to find that it was Skye. She sent you the picture from AEW’s instagram account when they announced the tagteam match on Wednesday.

“This is your biggest match yet girl. I’m so proud of you. You’re gonna kill it!”

You smiled down at your phone and typed a couple hearts back. The support you had made things a little easier but your nerves were still trying to get the best of you, and you assumed it was going to be that way until the match was over.

————

It was anticipated and highly talked about all over the internet. You were constantly being tagged on twitter, instagram and TikTok. It seemed like the whole world was awaiting this match and the time had finally come.

You were heading towards the gorilla with a racing heart. You kept trying to tell yourself that this was just like any other match, any other opponent but it wasn’t. It was your first match as a heel, first match as a tagteam and longest tv time to date. You had a couple moves you were expected to pull that you never had before and there was very little familiarity around the entire situation.

“Hey” you heard a deep voice from behind you. You turned around to find Ricky standing there.

“Hey” you smiled, adjusting your black wristbands.

“Good luck on your match tonight. Just wanted to say that.” He grinned, and it was then that you picked up on a vibe that you weren’t all that into. You took a small step back but kept your politeness.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say. Before you can turn back, he asks another question. One that catches you off guard.

“Hey, are you and hook like, a thing?”

Your brows knitted together but you wiped that look away quickly. You were about to respond when you felt eyes on you, and just like all the times before, you knew Hook was around.

Ricky’s eyes adverted above your head and that’s when you felt warmth radiating against your back.

“Y/N, you ready?” His deep voice reached you, making your heart flutter for some reason.

He held his eyes on Ricky as you turned around to face him. You could see that familiar expression like before. Jaw set and teeth clenched. It was then that you realized Skye and Willow were right. Hook was jealous. He didn’t get that way at all when Jeff approached the two of you. It was just Ricky.

You spared the man a glance over your shoulder and caught the disappointment on his face, but you couldn’t take enough time to think about it when you had a match in a few minutes.

“What was he talking to you about?” Hook muttered next to you.

You felt a little nervous to say it, but when his eyes landed on you, it urged you to tell him.

“He wished me luck on the match and… he asked if we were a thing.”

His jaw throbbed and you caught it, but by the time that happened you were already reaching the gorilla.

What you didn’t know was that Ricky had been coming up to him asking the same thing, and at one point he expressed that he wanted to ask you to go out with him. He thought he made it clear when he glared the man down but evidently he didn’t make it clear enough. Either that or Ricky just didn’t care, which was what Hook was now figuring on.

He knew he couldn’t get distracted. A lot was riding on this match for you and he didn’t want to ruin that. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and turned to face you instead.

“Ready?” He asked, but he could tell that you were anxious. You still had those wide, round eyes that reminded him of a puppy and as much as you might be good at playing a heel, you just weren’t that person on the inside.

“Ready as I can be.” You nodded, attempting to collect yourself.

Jack’s music was almost finished and you knew that meant it was time for you and Hook to come out. You took in a deep breath and he noticed that it was shaky.

“Something that helps me when I feel under pressure is thinking about the look on the faces of all the people who ever doubted me when they have to watch me prove them wrong.” He blurted, shrugging a shoulder.

You thought on that. Remembering back when you first came to AEW and had no foothold in the industry. All the mean, offensive things you’d heard about yourself start replaying over and over again in your mind and to your surprise, you felt a little bit of adrenaline surge.

“That’s helpful, actually” you tell him, noticing the right side of his mouth tipping upwards.

Just then, the intro of Chairman’s Intent boomed through the speakers and Hook nodded. “Remember that if you get nervous.”

You nodded back before he stepped to the side, as he usually did, to let you lead the way.

You headed out with him trailing right behind you and held your eyes on both Anna and Jack standing in the ring, amping each other up.

The glares being shared between the four of you was making for great tensions arising in the arena and the crowd was intensely engaged in all of it, which made you happy, of course, but you couldn’t show that.

You headed in one direction and he headed in the other, you both circling the ring with eyes on your opponents.

When you passed each other, he held his hand out. You tagged it as you walked past and that simple interaction had the crowd bursting with cheers.

You met up at the steel steps and he stepped back, waving you to go first. You stepped up onto the canvas and slipped between the ropes, Hook following. He didn’t lean against the turnbuckles like he usually did but you assumed that was because this wasn’t one of his typical matches. He stayed at your side and shot daggers to jack and Anna.

You and Anna were going first. You walked up to her, showing no signs of intimidation as you stood toe to toe. She smirked down at you before forcefully pushing you a foot back, making you stumble before you caught your footing.

You wiped that grin off of her face when you delivered a harsh slap to her cheek and from that point on, the two of you were rolling around the ring, throwing fists and kneeing ribs until Paul said it was enough.

You put some separation between you two and that’s when she tagged Jack, so you went to your corner where hook was waiting with an extended hand, eyeing you as you approached.

“You good?”

“I’m good” you slapped his hand and he hopped over the top rope, lunging towards back with a force that knocked him off his feet.

The crowd went wild at his explosiveness and the energy in the arena was absolutely riveting. It could’ve given you a high at that point.

You watched as Hook clotheslined jack right over the ropes, and when he hit the floor, Anna hopped off of the canvas. Hook jumped down and grabbed jack by his hair, but that’s when Anna came behind him and jabbed her elbow into the side of his neck, bringing him down to his knees.

You hopped down and raced over, grabbing her from behind and spinning her until she slammed into the barricades. Hook watched for a moment before he returned his attention to jack.

The two of them were back in the ring while you and Anna threw punches on the outside.

She was way more aggressive than you were, making you feel the urge to hit a little harder. You heard Hook shouting and you both looked up, finding that Jack had used Hook’s redrum against him, but Hook was trying to fight it, and failing.

You kicked Anna back and created enough space to slide under the ropes and break the hold. Hook fell to his knees and jack rose to his feet, walking you back towards the turnbuckles before you felt annas hands around your ankles and your face crashed into the canvas.

You lifted your head to see blood stains dripping from your mouth. Your tongue slid over your teeth to see if one was broken but all you tasted was metallic.

You glanced up to see Hook’s eyes on you. He was in the middle of getting jack ready for a German Suplex when he got distracted by the blood pouring from your busted lip.

He snapped back into it and slung jack over, then got back to his feet like he didn’t take a harsh landing himself and walked over to you.

Kneeling down, he scanned every inch of your face. This wasn’t planned and you both knew that. There was concern in his eyes that quickly turned into undoubted rage when jack grabbed Hook’s shoulders from behind and slammed him down to the canvas.

It was only then that he realized you were bleeding but by that time, it was too late for him.

Hook rose up quickly and threw his fists into jacks jaw. He stumbled back, falling against the turnbuckles and hook just didn’t stop.

Paul had to separate the two, and you when he did, Jack shouted out, “I didn’t know she was bleeding man!”

You got back up and saw the look on Anna’s face when she noticed all the blood leaving a trail from your lip to your chin. She didn’t mean it, and you weren’t mad. Accidents happened all the time, it’s a part of the business.

Hook’s eyes followed you as you walked around the ring back over to your corner, and tensions seemed to have died down when he saw that you were okay.

You held your hand out for him, knowing you and Anna were the ones finishing the match and he hesitated a little bit before he tagged you in.

“You alright?” He asked, and you nodded before you hopped over the top rope.

Anna lunged foward and you stepped to the side, letting her slam into the turnbuckle. Hook smirked at this, it was a classic move.

You grabbed her by the back of her head and slammed her down on her back, watching as she clutched her neck and rolled around, before you pulled her back up.

You knew what was next and had to remember what Hook said that night that you learned you’d be using his finisher to end this match.

Anna was a good bit taller but since you brought a six foot man to his knees, you knew size wasn’t an obstacle.

She turned her back in an attempt to create some distance and you quickly sprung forward and hopped on her. Jack immediately slid under the ropes but that’s when hook raced in and wrapped his arm under his jaw, immediately making him wobbly at the knees.

“Lock it in!” Hook shouted at you as he hopped up and wrapped his legs around jacks waist, effectively bringing him down to the canvas.

You dug your knees into Anna’s sides and reared back, holding on tight when your back hit the canvas and within only seconds, they both tapped out and Hook’s music bursted through the arena, though it wasn’t too easy to hear over the eruption of the crowd.

You kicked Anna’s limp body off of you and looked up to see Hook’s extended hand. You took it, helping you to your feet before he held both your hands in the air.

His eyes would’ve been scanning the arena but they were focused on the blood smearing your skin instead. He nodded towards the tunnels and you lead the way, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and feeling the sting of an open wound.

“That was a hell of a match right there boys” taz exclaimed from commentary.

“That it was, taz, those two know how to bring the energy to an arena” tony chipped in.

“I’ll tell you what, I wasn’t too thrilled about the new attitude from Y/N at first, but she’s toughened up a lot since her and Hook teamed up.” Excalibur adds.

“He’s coldhearted and she’s following in his footsteps I guess” tony chuckled

“No, I’ll tell you this much. I’ve had many, many conversations with the coldhearted handsome devil and with Y/N myself and those two simply have like minds, like-personalities and like-spirits. We should’ve seen this one coming boys, it was bound to happen.”

As soon as the arena was behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. His eyes were trained on the laceration but you quickly covered it with your hand.

“It’s fine” you tell him. You wanted to continue feeling the rush that the big win gave you, wondering why he didn’t seem excited at all.

“I don’t care about the cut, I’m too pumped up right now” you tell him as you head through the tunnel with a little pep in your step.

“It’s deep.” He says as he catches up. “I think you should go make sure you don’t need stitches”

“It’s just a cut, it’s fine Tyler.”

Accidentally once again, you said his real name. Once again, he felt a little taken back by it, but tried not to show it.

“It’s bleeding a lot.” He keeps on, like it hasn’t stopped at all.

You wiped the blood with the back of your hand and he grabbed your wrist to show you the crimson covering your skin. “That is a lot.”

“I’ve had worse, seriously. I’ll just go wash my face and hold a gauze to it for a couple minutes and it’ll stop.”

Before he could object again, Skye and Willow were both racing up to you. Their arms engulfed you and you felt the giddiness arising within you again. You glanced over at Tyler who was watching the whole group hug with an evident, proud looking smile.

“You are the baddest fucking bitch” Skye says when they unwrap their arms. “That shit was so good I would watch it a hundred times!”

You couldn’t contain the smile breaking out, and that’s when Willow asks, “Does your mouth hurt? That was a nasty fall.”

“Yeah but she got up and kept fighting cause she’s a bad fucking bitch” Skye grins.

“It’s fine, I don’t even feel it I’m too happy right now” you say as you glance back over to see that Tyler was no longer there. Your eyes adverted all around but he had disappeared elsewhere.

“C’mon, we’re gonna get you cleaned up.” Willow grabs your hand and pulls you along. “Oh, and we’re going out tonight to celebrate you.”

————

You stumbled through the hotel doors at one in the morning, wobbly on your feet with willow and Skye by your side. You’d went out to a bar on the north side of town and downed way too many drinks that you could actually remember but you were still on a high from your match that you didn’t even realize how drunk you actually were.

You were all three laughing amongst yourselves about nothing in particular when you caught sight of Taz coming out of the hotel gym.

He had an amused smirk on his face when he approached the three of you.

“Ladies, looks like you had a good time tonight.” He said as he eyed all three of you before focusing on you specifically.

“You took a nasty fall, Y/N, my son was just telling me about how you were too stubborn to get it checked out.” He chucked. That’s when your eyes lingered over to the gym doors.

“Yeah but it’s fine” you slurred. “I was so pumped I didn’t even feel a thing.”

“Be careful about that adrenaline rush, it can sneak up on you sometimes” he said.

“Okay. Is he in there?” You pointed to the gym, stumbling a little bit.

“Tyler? Yeah, he always does his workouts at this ungodly hour.”

When you heard that, that’s all your attention was focused on. You looked over and Skye and Willow who already knew what you were thinking, but they didn’t say anything except, “Well see you tomorrow girl”

Taz eyed you before a smirk came to his face and he shook his head with a low laugh. “Alright, I’m off to my room. Tell my son he needs to stop calling me down to the gym at anytime past midnight and call his tagteam partner from now on instead.”

You nodded, a smile willingly spreading across your lips before you headed towards the gym. You opened the door to find him sitting on the weight bench staring down at his phone, and right as you saw that, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

He looked up at you, brows knitted but with amusement in his eyes.

“That’s weird, I just texted you. Do you teleport now?” He asked, then cringed to himself. That was stupid, why did he say that?

You chuckle nonetheless as you stumbled in, thinking you weren’t noticeably drunk but it was way more obvious than you thought.

“Have fun?” He asked as he watched you head over to the bench across from his and sit down.

“I did” you grinned sheepishly. “It’s been such a good day, actually.”

He nodded back, eyes lingering to the laceration on your bottom lip that was already healing.

“I just ran into your dad” you tell him, swaying side to side.

“Did you?” He smirks, and you wished your vision wasn’t so blurry.

“Yeah, said to tell you stop calling him down here so late and call your tag team partner instead” you hiccuped.

He dropped his head. “Of course he did” he said as he shook it. You watched as he ran his hand through his hair and fluffed it out.

“Hey” you catch his attention.

“Hey” he says back.

“What’s coming next?” You asked the question that’s been running through your mind for a couple of days leading up to the match. “You know, we won tonight. The rivalry doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. So what does that mean for us? Are we done being partners now that we’ve beat them? I mean I know you still have the FTW title to win back, and I can be there ringside for it… if you wanted”

His eyes dropped to your fingers fidgeting over your lap.

“I don’t really know. What do you want to happen?” He asked, knowing already that he has thought about this same exact thing and the idea of the two of you no longer being a duo didn’t sit right with him, but he hadn’t mentioned anything to Tony and Tony hasn’t said anything else either.

“I want things to stay like they are” you admitted with another hiccup. “We have fun, don’t we?”

He had to keep in mind that you were drunk and now probably wasn’t the best time to take anything you said to heart, but it was hard for him not to.

“Yeah, we do.” He nods.

“So let’s call Tony and tell him we’re going to keep doing this heel run together” you pulled out your phone and read the text that was floating on your screen from Tyler earlier.

“can you come to the gym, i want to talk to you about something”

“Wait, what did want to talk about?” You asked. He shifted around and straightened his posture as he rubbed his palms over his sweats.

Before he texted you that, he was having a talk with his dad about you. It wasn’t often that Tyler came to him for advice on women but he didn’t really know who else he could trust.

He admitted that even though he tried to fight against it, he’d fallen pretty hard for you and it was starting to eat away at him. He didn’t have the impression that you would feel the same way, even though Taz completely disagreed with him on that.

He told his son that he would bet a million bucks that the feeling was mutual, claiming that a connection like the two of you have is undeniable and if he’s ever listened to anything taz told him, it needed to be that.

“You two remind me of myself and your mother when we were young” he recalls his dad saying. “We were too stubborn to admit we had feelings until we got drunk one night and it all spilled out”

“Tyler?” Your voice broke him out of his own thoughts. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He never had to have a conversation like this before. He never really wanted anyone for more than just a fun night before. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and tried to keep his nerves under control.

“I- uh-“ he rubbed the back of his neck as he inhaled deeply. Letting it all out in a quick huff.

“I been thinking a lot about me and you, and I don’t want to stop what we’ve been doing, but I do want to start doing more” he danced around the confession and you couldn’t quite piece it together.

“Like… how?” You asked, a little lost.

“I want to be with you.” He blurted, feeling his cheeks burn the minute the words flew from his mouth. His eyes scanned your face, studying it, searching for a reaction but you were blank faced and for once he couldn’t read you.

“You want to be with me? Like, be with me?” You were sure you weren’t hearing him right. Maybe everyone else thought you and Tyler were a thing but you never thought it was actually going to be an option.

“Yes, I do” he boldly stated, holding his eyes on you, watching as all the conversations you, Willow and Skye had over the last couple of weeks flashed through your mind and you couldn’t believe they were right the entire time.

“But if you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, I’ll still do the heel run with you and we can forget I ever said anything.” He lowly muttered, waiting for what felt like an eternity for you to say anything back.

“Or if you’re already into someone else, like Ricky or something-“

“I’m not” you blurted out. “I’m not into anyone else.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your heart was beginning to race and your skin felt like it was engulfed in a million small fires. You stared back at him, your eyes lingering to his lips when his tongue slid over them.

A bunch of feelings you’d suppressed out of sheer denial suddenly came rushing in and it was now impossible to force them back again. All the tensions between the two of you, the anger and the confusion over the last few weeks was quickly diminished by an even stronger feeling of pure anticipation and desire.

The space between the two of you was too much and it was if Tyler had that same thought when he stood up from the weight bench and extended his hand. You took it, and he helped you to your feet.

You were unsure what to do with your hands when he let go but it became easy to find a place for them to rest on his waist when his finger curled beneath your chin, angling your head up, lips would’ve been brushing against each other if you were just a little taller.

His eyes were soft and a sprinkle of hazel appeared against the dark brown, and you realized you never noticed that before now.

He took in every inch of your face with a slow and meaningful gaze before an easy smile spread across his lips and a dimple soon followed.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and spread through your whole body when he leaned in. You rose to you tip toes and your lips met gently, slowly, and tenderly. The way they fit like two pieces of a puzzle, moving in sync and pure harmony had your head spinning.

The taste of mint lingered on your tongue long after his lips were no longer on yours and you didn’t want it to vanish anytime soon.

He looked at you with eyes of adoration, his fingers slipping from your chin and pulling you into his chest. You buried your face into the fabric of his t-shirt, taking in the scent of cologne that you recognized from his hoodie you never gave back to him, and that’s when you remembered it.

“I still have your hoodie.” You chuckled, feeling his chest rise and fall with a low chuckle of his own.

“Keep it. It’s yours. It’s been yours since I gave it to you.”

———-

From that night in the hotel room gym on, you and Tyler were always together at the arena and outside of it. Your heel run was going strong. You were an undefeated tagteam that nobody wanted to step in the ring with.

After two weeks of keeping your love life on the low, he decided he wanted everyone to know. You were walking back from another successful match, standing on the stage when he grabbed your hand and spun you to him, placing a kiss to your lips that made the whole arena erupt in screams and chants of your conjoined names the fans came up with.

“Bet nobody saw that coming” Tony sarcastically remarked from commentary. “AEW’s modern day Bonnie and Clyde”

“Looks like you need to set an extra plate at the table when the holidays roll around, Taz.”

“I’ll gladly do that my friend.” Taz grinned as he watched you and hook exit through the tunnel.

“We’ve never seen the coldhearted handsome devil show any sort of emotion whatsoever… except with her!” Excalibur exclaims.

“Guess he’s not so coldhearted after all” Tony chips in.

“Oh no, he’s coldhearted son, but not towards her. Everyone else including myself gets the cold shoulder from my man, but she’s something special to him.”

Tyler walked you to the locker room and leaned against the wall. A soft smile stays on his face whenever the cameras aren’t around now.

“You looked gorgeous slamming Britt’s head into the canvas.” He taunts, earning a laugh from you.

“Thanks, I didn’t really try” you bantered back.

“Never have to.” He grins as he leans in and brushes his lips against yours before they fully connect.

“Everyone knows now” he says when you pull apart.

“They probably already did. We’ve been caught making out a lot” you remind him, earning that dimple you love so much to appear.

“True. I’m glad we don’t have to hide it anymore. I can officially call you mine.” He grins.

You place another gentle kiss to his lips before you whisper against them, “I’ve been yours this whole time”

[goddessofchaosposts]

HARM

-pairing: Colby Brock x Fem!reader x sam Golbach

-Type: fluff/angst/chaotic

-Extra characters- Satori and cody 

Warnings: Fainting, anxiousness, maybe some dark energies?

Description: Sam, Colby, and reader are at the conjuring house and something goes after the reader and causes Sam and Colby to worry when she starts to faint. 

A/N please give feedback, I am a new writer, and this is only my 2nd story.

Sam and Colby decided even after Abigail’s warning to not go in the basement but the two ghost hunters did not listen, obviously. YN is not too thrilled but is still going to go because it’s for YouTube and the two are reckless.

YN: Should we be down here ? You heard Abigail. This is dangerous 

Sam: We’ll be fine. We asked her to protect us. Plus I’ve already been down here a couple of days ago.

Colby asked angrily: You were already down here? This was going to be our big moment and you went alone?

YN: Let’s not get too mad. I understand but we need to be careful down here. Something is here

Colby: I’ll look out for you. You’ll be safe.

To Sam: We’ll talk about this later

Sam: Okay, let’s go to the well. 

Colby: okay, let's just get this over with

YN starts to feel something scratch her and her hairs on the back of her neck stand up. *Something is wrong* she thinks and as soon as she looks back, she sees something. As she tries to get the  boys’ attention she feels a pressure on her chest and all of a sudden she feels heavy. Suddenly she faints, Which causes her to fall but Colby sees this and catches her swiftly. Sam and Colby are frantic. Realizing that freaking out may cause more harm than good, Colby gently sets YN down. Sam decides to go get a caretaker and get YN some water. Colby sits with her and YN slowly comes to dazed and confused. Satori and Cody come down to check on her. She seems fine now. 

YN: What just happened?

Colby: You fainted, we were worried YN

Sam: I was very nervous and thought you were hurt

YN: I felt this heavy presence. I don't know what it was but it is very unkind

Satori: We can talk to Abigail or other entities to see who wants to hurt YN.

Colby: That would be great

Satori: Is there someone who wants to hurt YN? 1 stomp for yes 2 stomps for no

*hears one stomp*

Satori: YES, someone wants to hurt YN. Is it the man from the woods?

*Hears 1 stomp*

Satori: Can you tell us why?

* hears 2 stomps* 

Satori: No, you don’t want to tell us.

Colby: We are leaving right now.

Sam: agreed

The group of 5 left the basement to take a breather. YN went to sit down on the couch and Colby checked in on her.

Colby: Are you ok? 

YN: I don’t really know. Can we do the basement tomorrow? I’m feeling really overwhelmed 

Sam: I’m fine with that, colby is too

*Colby agrees*

Colby: Lets get some sleep

The 3 sleep close together and have a peaceful night which they didn’t expect. YN felt safe with her boys protecting her and being by her side.

[lavenderslabyrinth]

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

    “Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

   You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

pt. 2

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep

Moodboard created by @jakekiszkasleftnutsack, story edited by @garbagevanfleet

Credit to @kiszkasun for providing the wonderful edits of the guys for inspo 🖤

The amazing Tattooartist!Jake moodboard created @pennylanefics that sparked this idea weeks ago 🖤

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 12.3k

A/N: @asparrowofthedawn planted this idea in my brain, and I couldn’t function until I wrote it out. She’s been such a gem giving input and support throughout the week. It wouldn’t have been brought into existence if it wasn’t for her ❤️

Also, this is a smut fic with the twins, so if that is not your thing- please keep on scrolling. It’s my first one, so I’m nervous about that. Feedback and thoughts are always welcome and my inbox is open!

**Disclaimer: As someone with multiple tattoos, I tried to make this as realistic as possible. That being said, it’s not going to 100% accurate of the tattoo experience. Please don’t come for me**

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, sexually explicit material a MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, oral m!receiving, oral f!recieving, fingering, biting, slapping, dirty talk, spit kink, sitophilia - food/drink play, praise kink, soft!dom, teeny bit of restraints if you squint, let me know if I missed something!)

Masterpost

You pull open the door to the shop, greeted instantly by the chime of the tiny bell that alerts the staff of your presence. Looking around, it appears to be like any standard tattoo parlor, with its walls covered completely with framed pictures of flash art and leather-covered bench seats lining the waiting area. It’s dead quiet aside from the music playing over the speakers from the back room, and there’s no one to be found. 

Confused, you pull your phone out to check the time. 

11:48. Lunch time. 

You chew at your lip, waiting a few seconds before deciding to turn back to the exit, only to be interrupted by the sound of a man’s voice.

“Hello!” 

It’s friendly and upbeat, making you spin around on your heels to find the source. With a name like, ‘The Edge of Darkness Tattoo’, your mind has conjured up some interesting characters, so you’re more than shocked when a young man walks out from behind a curtain -  heavily tattooed as you’d expect - to find his place behind the counter.

 His laughter is muffled into the paper napkin that he wipes across his mouth. “Sorry about that, I was just eating some of my noodles and wasn’t sure if I heard the door open.”

“Hi,” you respond, letting your nervousness shake through your voice as you take small steps forward. You’ve had a few negative experiences with tattoo artists in the past, so you’re not ready to give up the apprehension just yet. “And that’s okay. I didn’t realize what time it was. I can come back later-“

He cuts you off with a wave, and displays a warm, reassuring smile, “Don’t be ridiculous. What brings you in?”

“I-uh. I have a t-tattoo design.” You stumble over your words, but you clear your throat and start over. “I’d like to make a tattoo appointment.”

“Fantastic! I can certainly set that up for you.” He wiggles the mouse to the computer in front of him and starts tapping away at the keys. “Artist?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you have an artist in mind?” When he realizes you’re still a few feet away, he ushers you forward,  “Come on up here! I promise I won't bite.”

You shuffle forward with nervous laughter escaping from the corners of your mouth, “I don’t know any. This is actually my first time here. My best friend was the one to recommend this place to me.”

“Perfect! I love having new clients. So, here’s what we can do. I can look at the design you brought in and then we can discuss the artist that would be the best match for what you’re looking for. Sounds good?”

A smile forms on your lips as you start falling into the rhythm of his energy. “That’s great. It’s on my phone though. Is that okay?” 

“Of course! Honestly, you should see the crazy stuff that people bring in sometimes. I’m pretty sure someone doodled their idea on a Mcdonald's napkin for me once.”

Now that you’ve left your once-looming anxiety at the door, and shuffled a bit closer, you’re able to take in the details of his appearance. The sides of his hair have been buzzed, leaving his tousled curls to rest at the top of his head and down the back of his neck. His ears are exposed, showcasing the thin golden hoops in each lobe, as well as the industrial bar through the right. The sharp angle of his jawline leads your eye to the trimmed goatee on his chin and mustache framing his full lips. The vibrant floral tattoos on his neck peek out above the collar of his cream-colored crew neck with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, allowing you to look at the artwork that filled every inch of space from his bare forearms down to his knuckles. Admittedly, you’re a bit surprised to see that his face is mostly clear from piercings other than the tiny metal hoop on the left side of his nose.

God, he’s cute. Like really cute. 

You try to shove away your attraction for him by unlocking your phone and tapping on your photos icon to pull up the pictures of your design in question. Even though your shaking hands are causing you to fumble with your phone, he waits patiently for you.. 

“Here it is,” you mumble under your breath when you find the right picture, and you turn it around to show him. 

“Wow! That’s a big piece!” 

“Uh, yeah. Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah!” He leans in closer to get a better view, blessing you with the musky scent of his cologne that’s layered with sweet notes of vanilla. You don’t even realize how close you’ve been leaning in to chase it until you smell the mint from his gum. He coos softly, coating the words with a slight raspiness, “Ooh…that’s sexy. I fucking love floral pieces like this. Where are you wanting it?”

“I was thinking about the upper thigh and hip area,” you explain, pointing to the area on your body in a general motion of your hand.

“That’s going to look fucking sick.” He reaches forward, cupping his hand around yours to get a better look at the image on your screen. You’re in denial with how flustered he’s making you, distracting yourself from the warmth of his hand on your fingers by looking up at his face. Your eyes are captured by the fond smile tugging on his lips as he zooms in and out of the picture with his index finger and thumb. “Man, as much as I would love to do this for you — and as much as I hate to say this —  I think Jake might do a better job.”

You’re entranced in his aura, only mere inches away from his face, sucked into the gravitational-like pull he has. Somehow, you manage to ask in a quiet voice, “Jake? Does he do pieces like this?”

He straightens to a standing position, breaking the closeness between you. “Yeah! Well, he will fight me on it, but he tends to do more black and gray. Actually…hold on. Lemme pull out the books.” He leans down behind the counter and lifts two leather-bound books that are similar appearance to photo albums. He opens one that has “Josh” written in gold script across the front, and starts flipping through it. “See, I’m more of a lettering and bold line work guy myself. A little more color than Jake does.” He hums to himself and shrugs. “Flowers like the ones you want aren’t out of my comfort zone though.”

You are in awe of his talent as you watch him flip through each page, “I see that. It’s really beautiful work, and I’m guessing you’re Josh?”

He flashes an award-winning smile, revealing the tiny gap between his two front teeth and the dimple on his left cheek. “The one and only.”

It earns him a bashful smile and a soft giggle from your lips, creating an undeniable moment of tension between you. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, causing your eyes to drop down to your hands while he grabs the second book to open and flip through. He’s pausing on each piece, giving you the time to study Jake’s portfolio of work. You wish you could say you were paying attention at first, but your eyes seem to act on their own, drifting up to Josh’s mouth instead. Deep in concentration and unaware of your shameless gawking, he plays with the ball of his tongue ring against his teeth and lips while flipping through each laminated page. 

Your eyes never stay on the artwork for long before they flick back up to Josh, and as if the universe is playing a cruel joke, he catches you the last time. Embarrassed, you quickly avert your eyes to anything else in the room, but before you can, you catch a glimpse of the grin forming on his lips.

You’re positive a telltale blush shows on your face as a wave of heat rises from your chest, and your train of thought is completely derailed. 

After sitting in a too-long moment of silence with the only sound filling the room is the pop! of his gum, he shuts the book, and clears his throat before asking, “So, what are you thinking?”

“Huh?”

An airy laugh flutters from his throat. “Which artist would you like to book with?

“Oh!” You consider your options, even if you're afraid to disappoint him by ultimately taking his initial advice. “I think I agree with you on picking Jake.”

“Solid choice. I promise I’m not offended.” He nods and shoots a playful wink. You stiffen and scramble to come up with an explanation, but he cuts you off before a word leaves your mouth, “Hey, I’m just playing with you. Relax, mama.”

The gentle touch to your arm and term of endearment makes your head spin.

“Okay. So, let’s look at his next availability. Which seems to be…hold on.” He clicks his tongue over his teeth as he scrolls on the mouse. His eyes light up and meet yours, “I think you lucked out! Looks like he has an opening next week, but it’s the last booking of the day. Is an evening appointment okay for you?

“Yeah, I think so. What time does the shop close?”

“We aim for eight depending on who’s working that day, but Jake likes to stay late and fit people in when we can.”

“Will you be here?” You blurt out the question before you can reel it back on your tongue. You’ve found a sense of comfort in his presence and taken the chance it might put your mind at ease to know the answer. 

As if he can see the gears in your head turning, he adds, “I will. Don’t worry. Jake is one of the best artists here so trust me on this, but he’s also booked for the next six weeks, unfortunately. And besides, having the shop to yourself is always great, and you won’t have to stress about anyone else popping in.”

You’re beginning to understand why he’s working the front counter here; his beautiful smile and kind eyes can probably sell you anything. Hell, he could pitch an offer for the giant glass bowl filled with mints that are sitting on the counter and you’d take him up on it. You didn’t need much convincing because this tattoo has been something you’ve wanted for months and months. He just happened to whisk away any morsel of doubt that had been lingering over your head. 

You hum in thought despite the fact that your mind is already made up. “That’s true…okay, let’s do it.”

He reaches out and gives your hand a tight squeeze. “Fuck yeah! Let’s get you set up.” 

Josh spends the next ten minutes discussing the details of your design and quotes you on a price based on the time and space required for the piece. You fill out paperwork as he takes a deposit, reserving your appointment for the following week. He suggests emailing your ideas and images to Jake directly and hands you one of the business cards that has his information on it. 

You flip the tiny rectangle-shaped cardstock in your fingers. “Could I have yours as well?”

“Sure!” He reaches over and plucks his own card from the stack and hands it to you. “If you have any questions, concerns or if something comes up and you need to reschedule, please don’t hesitate to call or text me. You can call the shop too, but good luck on getting someone to pick up.” 

You giggle at the thought and start making your way toward the door. With your back pressed up against the glass, you wave with a farewell. “Thanks for everything, Josh. Guess I’ll see you next week, then.”

He gives a final smile and waves back as you push the door open. “See ya around.”

A week later you’re back in the shop thirty minutes before your scheduled appointment time. You frown when Josh isn’t standing behind the counter, but you wait for someone to greet you, checking out the selection of jewelry in the glass display case as well as the flash albums sitting on the counter. You hear the faint sound of music and footsteps coming from upstairs. 

Maybe they didn’t hear me come in. 

You walk towards the stairwell and call up to the second floor, “Hello?!”

A male voice echoes back, “I’ll be down in a second!”

After a few minutes, you hear the shuffling of feet coming down the creaky stairs. You see the worn black vans first before you’re greeted by the rest of the man wearing them. Once he comes into full view, he says in a friendly tone, “Hey there!”

He closes the distance between you and extends an open hand for a shake. He’s another young man like Josh, dressed in dark wash jeans that are cuffed at the ankles, and an almost entirely open chambray button-up, rolled up to the elbows to expose his tattooed arms and chest. 

How many cute guys work here?

“Hey!” You offer a hand and ask, “So, you must be Jake?”

He accepts it, wrapping his other hand around yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and flashes a smile that seems a little too familiar as he answers, “That’d be me. You’re my eight o’clock?”

You nod, making him release your hand and shift a little on his feet while he sweeps his fingers through his long chestnut brown hair. “So, uh, I’m just wrapping up some of the finishing touches on your design, but it should only be a couple more minutes.” He gestures to the stairs behind him. “You can follow me upstairs to wait on the couch… if that’s more comfortable for you?”

You suppose you are a little earlier, so the extra wait doesn’t bother you. “That sounds great!”

You follow him when he leads the way up the wooden staircase, stopping to admire all the artwork covering the narrow walls. To your surprise, the second floor opens up into a large open space. A subdued glow coming from desk lamps illuminate the room, casting everything in a brooding, gothic feel. The wood flooring brings out the richness of the emerald green painted walls, and in the center, there is a dark, studded leather sofa that matches the wall color. Framed artwork and oddities fill the space. Your eyes scan over a variety of things like flash, band posters, mounted bugs, taxidermy pieces, swords, a vast collection of records with a turntable, dried flowers, and everything in between. Looking around, there appears to be two main work areas set up in opposite corners, with the furniture breaking up the space in the middle. 

Turning to you slightly, he gestures to the couch with an open hand. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. It shouldn't be longer than a few more minutes.”

You sit down, dropping your purse by your feet to settle into a more relaxed position, anticipating that you might be here for a while. You pick up one of the tattoo magazines off the coffee table and start flipping through it to pass the time. Glancing over the pages, you see Jake sitting at a desk working away on an iPad. It’s deathly quiet except the music that’s set at a low volume playing over a Bluetooth speaker. 

You try not to stare, but you can’t help watching a talented artist at work. His long hair has fallen from his shoulders, causing the wavy, slightly-knotted tendrils to frame his face as he looks down at his work. You’re mesmerized by his graceful beauty, noticing little details like how his full, bottom lip pouts out from him being so hyper-focused. His hand sweeping across the screen with the pen being held between his fingers is the only thing pulling your attention. At one point, he becomes annoyed with his hair being in the way, and combs it back in a loose bun, securing it with the hair elastic that was wrapped around his middle digit. The way he's bent over, gives you a view down his chest from his shirt being so open, but you’re too far to make out any of the tattoos covering it. 

When it seems like he’s about ready to finish drawing, you try to busy yourself with anything else but him, so he doesn't catch you as Josh had done a week prior. You end up scrolling aimlessly through your phone, flipping through several apps until you hear a chair being pushed out across the floor. At first, you are startled by the scraping sound of metal against wood, but the reaction shifts to excitement when you look up to see Jake walking over to you. 

By the expression on his face, you can tell something is bothering him. “Sorry about that. The last guy took longer than I expected and — uh, never mind, you don’t want to hear about that.” He shakes his head, shooing away the thought. “Honestly, I really just wanted to make it perfect for you.”

“I appreciate it! And it’s okay, I didn’t mind waiting.”

He sits on the couch next to you and hands the tablet over with the design displayed on the screen. “What do you think?”

The amount of raw talent he has blows you away, exceeding every expectation you could have, like he’s plucked the vision straight from your brain. You gasp in awe, zooming in and out of every detail. “It’s so beautiful!”

A prideful smile forms on his face and he settles a few more inches, getting close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body as his leg presses up against yours. The proximity allows you to smell the teakwood notes of his cologne and the cinnamon candy that he’s rolling around in his mouth as he talks. “You sure? If there is anything you want to change, I would be more than happy to do that.”

You swear you’re able to feel his breath fan against your neck. “I think it's perfect.”

He leans in more, pointing to the different details of the design with the pen, “See, I thought that this part would be a nice touch, right?” He pats your knee before giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think it makes it unique to you.”

The way he emphasizes the last word with that low gravelly tone to his voice sends a chill through your spine. You squeak out while handing the tablet over, “I love it.”

“Okay, great. I’ll go ahead and get the stencil ready then. We can go from there to see how it fits in the spot you want.” He stands to his feet with the tablet in hand, and disappears into a hallway out of your sight, leaving you alone on the couch. 

Another door on the opposite side of the room opens and closes, and a trail of footsteps follows it, growing louder and louder as they approach. You hadn’t seen Josh yet, but you weren't aware that anyone else was here in the building. You twist around on the couch and see a recognizable face presented in front of you. 

He’s dressed differently tonight, wearing a white t-shirt that showcases more tattoos than before, jeans, and a pair of scuffed white vans. The things that haven’t changed are his welcoming eyes glimmering in the light when they meet yours. He chimes across the room in an upbeat voice, “Hey, you!”

“Hey, Josh.” You keep your voice light and casual, hiding the embarrassment from how he’s already making you feel.

He stops in his tracks and turns towards you with a pained expression on his face. “Okay, now I feel bad that I don’t remember your name.”

You wave him off through your giggling, “I don’t think I gave it to you.”

He rolls his eyes, albeit playfully. “That doesn’t change the fact I’m the dumbass that didn’t ask.”

You give him your name and hear it called back to you in his voice. To avoid feeling flustered like you did the last time you spoke to him, you dare to change the subject. “Ya know, you and Jake look like you could be brothers.”

He huffs a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back with a hand placed over his chest. “It’s funny you say that. We’re actually twins.”

Your mind connects all the dots, comparing their similarities and differences the second the words hit your ears. You allow a grimace to spread across your features when you realize how awkward it was for you to say they were related just now. “Oh shit, how many times a day do you hear that?”

He shrugs as walks over to the couch you’re sitting on and props his elbows on the back of the furniture. Leaning forward, he teases you with that cheeky smile, “Don’t worry, you have plenty of time to come up with original material.“

You scoff and just as you’re about to face away from him, he reaches out and taps your shoulder. “Can I tell you something?”

“Shoot.” Your heart starts racing with the possibilities running wild in your mind.

The smile on his face shifts to a nervous one and his eyes drift up to the ceiling for a few seconds before they fall back to yours. “I’ll be honest, I half-expected you to cancel tonight.”

“You thought I would wuss out?”

His eyes widened from the implication, afraid that he offended you. “No! No. Nothing like that.” He pauses, searching through his mind to find the right choice of words, “It’s…you just didn’t seem all the way committed to getting it when we talked last week. Like I was pressuring you into it or something.”

You didn’t realize you were being that obvious about it. 

Your eyes drop to your hands as you pick at the cuticle on your thumb. “I guess I am a little nervous.”

“Yeah? That’s pretty normal for a big piece like this.” He shifts back on the heels of his feet and brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing the muscles, “I still get nervous sometimes.”

“I heard it was in a painful spot too?”

“Yeah, it can be with any sensitive spot and anywhere you don't have a lot of padding over bone is going to be a bitch. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Jake is a gentle lover.” He suddenly makes a displeased face, giving away that the last part accidentally slipped out when he forgot that you were still a client. 

You control the smile that’s threatening to show on your face as you unwrap the mint that you’ve taken from the jar downstairs, popping it into your mouth, “And what about you?”

His mouth falls open, but no words come out. Instead, he decides to watch the way you roll the candy around on your tongue.

“Okay, let’s go ahead and see how these look-“ Jake’s voice echoes from the hall, but he cuts himself off once he sees you and Josh staring at each other. It only takes a second for a knowing grin to spread across his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

Josh clears his throat and pushes himself off the edge of the couch, fighting back the smirk that’s creeping up with each passing second. “No, just chatting.”

You notice that Jake’s changed from the button-up into a comfortable black t-shirt, showing you the extensive work that covers both of his arms. He turns to face you, offering you a warm smile and a gesture of his hand over to the mirror. “Shall we?”

You leave your stuff where you are while he gathers his supplies and follows you to the full-length mirror set up along the wall. 

Standing before it, you remember the area you’ve chosen for your tattoo, and ask, “Should I take off the thong too?” 

You thought it was a reasonable question, but you second guess yourself when he coughs loudly. A heat of embarrassment flushes in your chest when you watch both of Jake’s brows raise as he swallows harshly, “Uh, well, no... I-I don’t think you need to do that. Just lifting the dress will be fine.”

He gathers a disposable razor and a plastic squirt bottle that’s filled with a light green solution in his gloved hands and crouches before you. You pull up your dress in your hands for him, bunching the fabric up in your fists right under the band of your bra to reveal the black lace thong you’re wearing. 

“May I?” He asks softly, and you nod in approval. You feel anxious, jittery even, like every inch of your body is buzzing with nervous excitement to the point you think you’re shaking uncontrollably. 

A shiver rolls through you the second the squeezes the bottle of green liquid onto your skin. “That’s cold.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, while he wipes away the soap solution that’s running down your legs with a paper towel. “Guess I should have warmed it up for you.” 

You blush at the thought, watching him in the mirror while being completely transfixed by the simple action until his next question whips you back into the present. 

“Is it okay if I move this strap?” You glance down to see his large, dark-chocolate brown eyes looking up at you. 

“S-sure,” you mumble back when you process the fact he’s referring to your underwear. 

He hooks his thumb under the lace band and lifts it over your hip bone, moving it away so it won’t get wet. The stream of water ventures further into your inner thigh and the valley of your hip. Satisfied, he begins to glide the razor in precise strokes across your leg, pressing into your skin every so often with his fingers to get a close shave. It feels wildly intimate to have him do this, even if you’re convincing yourself that it's standard for his occupation.

You peek over your shoulder to see Josh staring at you, hands folded lifelessly in his lap across the screen of his tablet. His eyes are fixated on your backside, making you realize that your ass has been on full display for him the entire time. You’re thankful that you chose to wear this set tonight, especially the panties because of the heart clasp where the straps meet in the back. His gaze climbs up the curves of your body until it finally meets your eyes. He’s far enough away, but you swear you see a blush pinkening his cheeks. 

You cock your head to the side, silently calling him out. His dumbfounded expression shifts into a devilish grin, but Jake interrupts his thoughts before he can say a word.

“Hey man, could you give me a hand over here?” Jake calls out over his shoulder as he dries you off with another paper towel. 

Josh stands from his chair and pads over, well, nearly skips over to you in a matter of seconds. “What’s up?”

“Can you grab that stencil for me?” Jake asks him as he peels the gloves from his hands, pointing to the table, Josh hands them to his brother and walks behind you. He flips through them, and says, “So, I blew this up to a few different sizes.” 

Josh’s fingers ghost up the small of your back to collect the parts of your dress that have slipped from your hold. You catch the pitchy breath that wants to escape your lips, but you can’t suppress the arching of your back to press your ass into him. 

“You like that?” He whispers inches away from your ear, sending a shudder down the length of your spine. 

Jake holds up the largest stencil to your leg for you to look in the mirror, walking you through the process. “I think this one is the best because of how it fills out the space here.” He wraps his now bare, yet steady hand around your hip, pressing softly into the supple flesh to rotate you slightly. He turns his head to the mirror as the pads of his fingers graze you, trailing across the sensitive skin of your upper leg with a barely-there touch. 

“Black?” Josh taunts in an amused hum, quiet enough for only you to hear, “I definitely took you for a pink or red kind of woman.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a moment, you worry that your knees might buckle under you as Jake goes on explaining as though Josh isn’t practically purring in your ear. “It just flows perfectly with your curves here.” He meets your gaze directly with the darkened pupils and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth, giving your hip a deliberate squeeze. “Whaddya think?”

“He’s right, y’know? Your body was made for this.”

Jake’s crooked, half-smile causes you to believe that he might have heard his brother. It’s a miracle that you haven’t melted into the cracks of the floor beneath your feet. The ability for you to concentrate on anything is thrown out the window with Josh’s warm breath cascading across the back of your neck with his twin kneeling before you, but somehow you’re able to release a shaky sigh, “I think it looks amazing.”

He nods and looks up over your shoulder. “Josh?”

Josh hums in thought as he peers over you and down at the reflection of the stencil held up to your upper thigh. “I agree with that placement. It’s gonna look fucking sick.”

He’s so close that you can feel the tip of his nose against the shell of your ear. “Might have you bend over the table so I can double-check his work from the back.”

Your face flushes with heat and you clench your thighs together in need just as Jake sets the stencil on the table. He claps his hands together in excitement with a pleased breath of laughter to himself. “Fuck yeah. That settles it then.”

You catch the cool scent from his mint when he asks, “Still need my help with your dress?” 

You don’t need to respond. He already knows the answer. 

Jake gloves his hands again, taking his time to clean and prepare your skin with an antiseptic soap. He proceeds to spray a solution to the area and begins the process of laying down the stencil. You’re able to keep the strap of your thong out of his way with Josh helping you hold up the back of your dress. With a careful touch, Jake presses the thin transfer paper to your skin in its chosen spot and starts smoothing it across your leg with gentle sweeps of his palms. 

He slowly peels it away to reveal the dark purple outline of your design, giving you a little preview of your new tattoo. He releases a heavy sigh of relief once the paper is completely off, “We even lucked out on only having to do the stencil once.” 

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Just as quickly as it all happened, it was over. You’re left standing alone, feeling flustered and in disbelief that it even happened in the first place. As you question the grip you have on your sanity, Josh saunters off back to his work desk while Jake escorts you over to the table he has prepared for you. 

“Go ahead and lay down on the table here. Get as comfortable as you can, but I know that’s easier said than done on those fucking things.” 

You crawl up on the Saran-wrapped vinyl furniture that resembles a large massage table. It’s padded enough, but you can tell that it’s going to cause your muscles to ache after a few hours. 

Once you find a relaxed position that’s mostly laying on your left side, you lift the bottom of your dress so that it’s cleared away from your hips and legs. 

Jake’s back is to you as he sets up his station, and asks over his shoulder, “What kind of music do you like?”

You blank out for a moment, forgetting everything you’ve ever listened to, which makes him chuckle under his breath. “Think about it while I get this set up. I’ll have Josh play whatever you want on the Bluetooth speaker.” 

You let nervous laughter flutter from your chest. “I saw you had a record player and a collection?”

He spins around in his chair with his face lit up, beaming with enthusiasm from your observation. “We do! We use it a lot when we aren’t in the middle of a session. It just really sucks having to get up and flip it over.” He lifts his hands to show you the tight black latex covering them. “Gloves and whatnot.”

“Oh, I gotcha.”

The next ten minutes go by quickly as he explains the process to you, step-by-step. While he rambles on, you look around the spacious room as he goes onto the next steps of wrapping his work area, and machine, filling tiny ink capsules, and gathering all his supplies together. 

Once he has everything laid out in front of him just the way he likes, he scoots in close and flips on the machine, firing it to life. “Ready?”

You sigh through a weak smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He pats your leg in reassurance, “The first few lines are the worst, but it gets better…well, until the very end. Just let me know when you need a break, okay?”

You reply with a final nod.

He’s right. The needle puncturing your skin is a hot thrumming scratch as if a pissed-off bee has stung you and decided to drag its ass across your flesh. It’s painful, but not unbearable. Soon, your adrenaline and endorphins kick in, and it subsides into a dull sensation after a few minutes — just as Jake predicted. You’re thankful he doesn’t have too heavy of a hand, and that he works quickly starting from the bottom portion of your thigh. 

Josh has put on the music you requested before he starts to clean up around the space, assuming it’s to close up the shop for the evening. He doesn’t hold your attention long when Jake engages in some small talk, asking you mostly about your family, friends, and work. 

When your answers begin to trail off and shorten, he picks up the slack in conversation. He talks about his passions outside of tattooing, which you find out are music and cooking. You learn that he’s a confident guitar player as he tells you about the band he’s formed with his brothers, including Josh, as well as Sam, who you find out is the shop’s piercer, and that they happen to play local gigs on the weekends. 

You listen to his soothing voice over the harsh buzzing roar of the tattoo machine, allowing your eyes to close as you find the calm space tucked in your mind. As the minutes turn into over an hour, it becomes harder for you to stay in that place. He checks in on you a few times, but you’re adamant to say that you’re fine and that you don’t need the break he suggests. 

You’re fighting your body’s signals, struggling to stay still on the table while he works. When a low groan of discomfort escapes you, he suddenly lifts the needle away from your skin, noticing that you’re grimacing in pain with your face buried into the crook of your elbow. He taps your shin instead of bringing the machine back to your leg, and you pull your arm away now that it has become damp from your hot tears.

You prop yourself up on your elbow, and the confused look you give him makes him take a deep breath and push away from the table. He looks at you with an expression that’s filled with concern like he’s tossing around the thoughts in his head for what to say. “So, here’s what I’ll do-“ He pauses when you stiffen, but holds eye contact. “We’ll get through this outline tonight and then I think I’ll have you come back in a week or so to do the shading and color.”

Come back in a week. 

A pout slips through and tugs at your bottom lip. 

He laughs softly through a joke to reassure you, “No charge of course.” 

“You just want an excuse to see me again,” you quip back, allowing a weak smile to break through your disappointment.  

He gives a half-hearted shrug with a nod. “That might be true, but it’s clear that I’m hurting you right now.”

You try to save face with a joke of your own, “Isn’t that what they say? ‘No pain, no gain?’”

His shoulders fall and he gives you a look of defeat. “Why is it always the pretty girls that say stuff like that?” He scooches the chair on its wheels, close enough that he’s almost hovering over you. “Listen, It’s only going to get worse and I can't in good conscience — torture you for the next couple of hours just to get it all done tonight.”

You’re a little upset at yourself for giving him the impression that you can’t sit through an entire tattoo, releasing a deflated sigh from your lungs, “…Okay.”

Sensing the instant shift in your mood, he adds, “Hey, you’re doing great, okay? I do not doubt in my mind that you could power through this with no problem….but I’m also not gonna lie to you and say it’s not killing me to see you cry.” A playful smile makes an appearance when he mumbles softly, “…at least like this.”

Your jaw drops and hangs open, making him laugh and raise his hands defensively. 

He straightens and huffs, “Oh I’m sorry, is Josh the only one allowed to flirt with you?”

“I heard that!”

Jake’s eyes stay locked on you as you both smile at each other, and while completely ignoring his brother, he asks, “You’re okay with that plan?”

“I guess so,” you say through a heavy sigh. 

“You’re killing it.” He sets the machine down and stretches his muscles while still sitting in his chair, wincing in pain. “Although, my back is fucking killing me.”

“Because he’s a bitch that doesn’t stretch as much as he should!”

You giggle at the brotherly banter, craning your neck to look for Josh. Jake lowers himself and whispers, and you nearly moan at the feeling of his breath hitting your skin, “Don’t listen to him. He complains more than anybody here.”

“Somehow I believe it.”

“You have no idea.” The scent of cinnamon hits your nose with how close his face is to yours. He doesn’t linger long before rolling back to his position by your legs to rinse off the area. “So, let’s take a fifteen-minute break and knock out the rest of this outline.”

You were hopeful that the short break would help, but it hasn’t. Your skin is so raw and sensitive that each pass of Jake’s steady hand feels like a white-hot knife being dragged across your leg. 

Your hands are balled into fists as you desperately try to find your calm, happy place deep in the folds of your mind. Despite your best efforts, whimpers of pain and discomfort start leaving your mouth more freely.

You don’t notice Josh walking up to the table until you barely hear his voice over the machine. “Nice. It’s looking great already.”

Their voices seem distorted and far away like you’re stuck in a type of lucid dream state. 

“I’m trying to wrap this up for her. She’s fucking over it, poor thing.” 

Josh hums in agreement. “How long?”

Jake clicks his tongue a few times, wiping over the area with a paper towel that feels like eighty-grit sandpaper. “Hmmm…I dunno, maybe thirty if she’s got it in her.”

Josh grabs a chair, settles in on its cushion, and pulls it right behind the head of the table. He gently taps your arm, getting your attention, and coos softly, “You doing okay, sweet girl?” 

You nod, sniffling back the tears. 

He rubs your arm that’s still draped across the middle of your face. “You’re doing great. You think you got another half an hour in you?”

“Yeah,” you answer, muffling the sound of your voice into your forearm. 

“Atta girl.” You can picture the smile on his face as he says it, making your heart skip a beat. 

Josh hooks his left arm under your head to hold your right arm while rubbing circles across your shoulder and down your back. At first, you flinch and lock up, making him say, “Try to relax for us, it hurts the tenser you are.”

You welcome the embrace, melting into his comforting touch. He adjusts with each deep breath you take, and you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his bicep to smell his cologne and the fresh linen scent of detergent off his t-shirt. 

You feel his breath hit your temple, “You’re such a badass. It’s gonna all be worth it, I promise.”

The next thirty minutes feel like a blur thanks to Josh distracting you from the pain. Although, the way you’re melting into his body with Jake’s arms pressing against your thighs stirs a unique feeling between your legs. 

“Okay,” Jake says finally, shutting off the machine. The blanket of quiet calmness that drapes over you feels like a blessing. “I think you’re done for the night.”

Josh mumbles into your hair, “You fucking did it.” He loosens his embrace and slips his arms out from you. 

Jake takes extra care in rinsing off your leg with the same green solution as before and dries it with paper towels. As soon as he feels you’re cleaned up enough, he offers a bare hand. “Wanna take a look?”

You’re pulled to a sitting position with his help, and you take a minute to stretch out your stiff muscles. Your feet hit the ground like you’re a newborn baby deer, almost toppling over if it isn’t for Jake holding onto your hands. He walks you to the mirror and your jaw drops to the floor when you see your reflection. 

The mixture of emotions you’re experiencing hits you like a freight train. You’re not sure whether you should cry, laugh hysterically, or stand in complete shock in front of the mirror for hours — perhaps a combination of all three. 

“Holy shit! Oh my god! This is incredible!” You take a few steps closer to the mirror, turning your leg side to side to see how the new addition of ink looks on your body. 

He’s standing behind you, peering over your shoulder when he asks softly, “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” you squeal in excitement, turning around to face him. You’re not sure what comes over you at this exact moment, it could be a mixture of desire, tension, or even fatigue with some leftover adrenaline, or maybe it's just pure attraction to him that motivates you, but you reach out and cup his face in your hands. Bringing him forward, you smash your lips into his in a more aggressive kiss than either of you anticipated. He must not have expected it from how he flinches back slightly, but only for a second before he reconnects the kiss, deepening it. 

He brings his hands up to weave into the tresses of your hair and snake around to the nape of your neck. The hours of build-up from sweet praises and gentle caresses are making you feel bold, and you flick your tongue across his lip in a hungry need for more. 

His full, pouted lips part without a second of hesitation, and he slips his tongue across yours. You’re both trying to be mindful of the massive, fresh tattoo on your right thigh, but your impulses take over for a few seconds longer than they should’ve. You tug him forward with a hand around his hip, and for a fleeting moment, you feel him harden beneath his jeans when he presses up against your left hip. 

Jake is the one to break the kiss through a low groan, eliciting a whine of complaint from you. He doesn’t let go, however, but instead smiles against your lips, releasing a breathy laugh, “Whoa. Hold on, dove.” The pad of his thumb sweeps over your cheek as the spiced, smokiness of his breath fans across your lips, “Trust me when I say we wanna fuck you, but I need to wrap your leg up first. Can’t go destroying my best canvas, can we?”

You’re not sure if you hear him correctly, so you pull back, confused, and mumble, “W-we?”

He cocks an eyebrow and licks across his bottom lip. “Oh, I just thought Josh here was making it painfully obvious how bad he wants you.”

You glance over Jake’s shoulder to see Josh sitting in the same chair as before, now with a leg crossed over the other and his hands locked behind his head. The expression he’s wearing on his face is a smug one, and he only responds to your questioning look with a playful grin and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. 

Your knees are wobbling for an entirely different reason as you walk the short path back to the table. The air is heavy to breathe, thick from the borderline-ferality between the three of you. Jake places a kiss on your lips while you lift yourself on its edge, and scoot back enough for him to wrap your leg. 

The next sound you hear is the chair behind pushed out from under Josh’s legs as he stands to his feet. 

He leans in on his extended arm placed behind you, and lowers himself to whisper in your ear once again. “I’m impressed. I was beginning to think you were just gonna walk right out of here after all that teasing.”

You want to say something back, but all you can do is mewl from the relief of cool water from Jake’s bottle rolling down the sides of your leg.

Josh nips the soft spot below your ear, causing you to lift your hips and clench your thighs before Jake places a firm hand on your belly. He breathes in a deeper voice that makes the wetness pool between your legs. “Are you gonna be a good girl? You’ve done such a good job for us tonight.”

He follows it with a sultry growl vibrating against the shell of your ear. “I bet that pussy is so fucking nice and wet, isn’t it? How bad do you want two cocks tonight, sweet girl?

Jake snaps at his twin, “Josh, would you cut it out? She’s squirming all over the place and I’m trying to lay this fucking Saniderm down.”

Josh huffs an irritated laugh, but behaves to the extent that he’ll settle for placing wet kisses on the path between your shoulder and your ear. 

It takes all of Jake’s attention for him to apply the giant cling-wrap-like bandage to your tattoo with delicate precision. And knowing what’s about to transpire, he takes extra caution and adds a second gauze sheet over it for padding, securing it with black, medical foam tape. 

Josh cheers the second Jake finishes wrapping you up, “Finally! I think it’s about time that we fucking celebrate. Wanna smoke?”

As much as you love to share a cigarette with him, you decide against it and shake your head to turn down his offer.

Without skipping a beat, Jake wheels his chair over to his work desk. “I have some whiskey that I only break out for special occasions. Want a drink instead?”

Josh places an open-mouth kiss on your neck as you are about to respond, causing the sound to come out more like a pitiful moan than a real word, “Sure.”

While his brother digs around the cabinets of his desk for the bottle of liquor, Josh walks around the table to stand in front of you, holding his open hand out for you to take, “C’mere, sweet girl.”

The staggered walk over to the couch is interrupted by Josh kissing you like he’ll never get the chance again. You can’t help but note how it’s completely different from his brother, how it’s not gentle or paced, but rather a clashing of tongues and hungry nips to your lips. It’s an insatiable type of hunger you’re not familiar with, but find that you’re craving every second of it.

He balls up the fabric of your dress and yanks it over your head in a swift motion, tossing it somewhere behind his back. He grabs a generous handful of your ass, squeezing it into his palm before sliding both hands along the curves of your body. His dull nails drag up the length of your back until his slender fingers meet the tiny clasps of your bra. With a flick of his tongue across your teeth paired with a precise pinch of his fingers, the garment is free from your chest. 

He doesn't break the kiss as he guides you to the couch, laying you across the shined, leather furniture on your back. Slotting himself between your legs and propping his weight above you, the frenzied kisses finally leave your lips to trail across your jaw, to the sweet spot of your ear, and down the side of your neck. They’re wet and sloppy, touched by the warmth of his breath through each heavy pant against your tacky skin. The soft hairs of his mustache tickle you, turning you into a writhing mess as his lips explore the intricate details of your body. Acting from your desires, you hitch your left leg around his waist as he rocks his hips into you, catching his concealed erection against your lace-covered pussy. In the passion of tangled limbs, he’s still careful of your freshly tattooed leg draping off the side of the couch. 

His lips graze from the hollow point of your throat, feeling the erratic beating of your heart against his mouth, down between your breasts until he wraps them around one of your bare nipples. Your hands fly up to find his face, and you let your fingers feel across the plush, buzzed hair along the sides of his head before they dive into the loose curls. 

A pull of his locks between your curled fist sends a raspy groan from his mouth onto your skin with his nose pressing into the supple flesh of your breast. He laps his tongue over the sensitive bud, rolling it into the intoxicating heat of his mouth.

As much as he wants to stay here worshiping your naked chest for hours with no end in sight, he’s too impatient to finally taste you. His tongue leaves your overstimulated nipples to trail down the center of your abdomen, across your navel, and down to your left hip. He sucks a splotchy pink love mark on the thin skin, soothing the sting of it with a delicate lick of his tongue. 

You couldn’t care less from the way his breath fans across your body, clinging to the wet lace of your thong between your thighs. He’s only inches away from where you want him most, and he’s making sure to keep you on edge as long as he can. 

Between chasing the feeling of his mouth, and him sinking to the floor on his knees, you are now sitting upright against the back cushions of the couch. You’re in a special kind of daze, pulled under the current of your circumstances. You don’t even notice Jake’s presence until you feel his weight shifting across the leather next to you. 

You watch as Josh leans back on his heels, and tugs his white t-shirt from his body. Your blurry, out-of-focus eyes start at his beautiful smile, scanning to his floral tattoos covering his neck, and down over where they connect to his chest piece where two sparrows are placed among a bed of flowers, one on each side. He takes away the chance for you to look farther down when he brings his lips to your inner thigh once again. 

“I hope you didn’t forget about me, dove,” Jake croons in such a delectable voice that makes you feel like you’re vibrating from the inside out. His fingertips trace across the softness of your jaw just as Josh eases your thong carefully down your legs. 

“No! No… not at all — oh my god!” You cry out the second Josh licks a languid stripe over your once-hidden clit. Somehow, you have forgotten about the existence of the piercing until he presses the tiny metal ball to your bundle of nerves, making you nearly leap in the air. 

“Fucking show off,” Jake curses under his breath, causing Josh to chuckle with his face buried between your legs. 

Feeding off the spark of jealousy, he guides you into a heated kiss with a hand around your neck, cupping your chin in his fingers so you feel the cool metal of his rings. It’s different from the first he had given, and as you fight in this sinful dance for dominance, it’s clear to you that he’s winning. Maybe it was meant to distract you from his brother, or maybe it’s due to the fact he’s no longer holding back like he was before. 

He sucks a mark of his own beneath your ear, one that will be sure to turn a lovely shade of purple by tomorrow morning — another thing to remember him by. The sensation of Jake’s teeth raking across your throat as Josh rolls deliciously slow circles over your clit, overrides your brain’s basic functions. Every thought and every one of your senses is consumed by them, even to the point where the throbbing pain of your tattoo ceases to exist in your mind. 

“Feeling a little thirsty?” Jake hums into your cheek as he caresses a middle finger from your throat and down the center of your chest. 

“Mmhmm.’” The whimper you give is pathetic at best, just as he likes it.

An expert flick of Josh’s tongue makes you roll your head back and clench your thighs around his head, but the soreness in your muscles makes you wince. “Careful now, dove.”

Through your fogged vision, you peer through half-closed lids to watch Jake take a swig from the bottle. He leans in, placing his thumb on your bottom lip, signaling you to open for him. You’re eager, allowing him to spill the shot of whiskey into your waiting mouth. It burns in the best way as you swallow it down, feeling the warmth in your belly, with his palm resting around your throat. The grasp tightens right as he licks across your mouth, wiping away any of the liquor that has spilled from your swollen lips. He hovers right at your ear, sending the growl straight through you, “You do exactly as you’re told, don’t you?”

The way Josh is sucking your clit, babying it, nurturing the building orgasm in the safety of his mouth like no one has done before causes the bindings of your composure to untether without anyone there to save you.

Pleased with the sounds rattling from your chest, Jake taunts the two of you, “We can’t leave Josh out, can we?”

The mention of his name causes his eyes to open and flick up to meet yours. The lust-blown pupils are almost black with unbridled desire, abandoning that playful, rich-toffee color you admired earlier in the evening. Now that you are taking in the sight of him more clearly, you see his right hand wrapping so tightly around your leg, that his fingertips are pressing hard enough into the thickness of your thigh to leave little indentations. You’re able to make out the tattooed letters on his knuckles now that he has your focus, reading the letters, “L O V E” on each finger.

Jake brings the lip of the glass bottle to your sternum and tilts it slightly to pour the amber liquid onto your smooth skin. It drips down your belly in cascading streams, causing you to suck in a sharp gasp between your teeth from the sensation. Before you can react, Josh rushes to leave his spot on your clit, lapping up all the spilled alcohol that tries to trickle down your sides. Jake huffs an amused laugh that drapes across the sticky skin on your neck, “Another one of his party tricks.”

You’ve now brought a hand up into Josh’s hair, using the loose, messy curls as reigns. The smooth, undoubtedly-expensive bourbon mixing with the taste of you, and the way you’re yanking on his hair has flipped an internal switch. The movements of his tongue are no longer gentle and delicate, because he’s devouring you as if his life depends on it, and the lewd noises he’s creating should’ve embarrassed you if you weren’t too bothered to care.

Your eyes are clamped shut so tightly that bright splotches of color begin to burst behind your lids as the impending orgasm twists in your belly with each passing second. Jake is already taking note of the signals your body is giving, telling him that you’re close; watching how your cheeks and chest flush a vibrant pink shade, the raggedness of your breathing as your lungs ache for air, to the way you’re clawing at the top of his thigh and fabric of his shirt. Enamored by the sight of you, he leans in and bites at the tender flesh of your neck, sucking a pattern of marks over your breasts while he plays with your hardened nipples between his fingers.

Jake breathes in a sticky voice like it's coated in golden honey, “You enjoying yourself, sweet dove? I bet you taste fucking phenomenal. I gotta make sure to have you all to myself next time.”

Another pair of fingers tease around your entrance, causing a pathetic plea to rip its way from your lungs, “Josh…please!” 

The teeth of his perfect smile press against you as he considers making you beg again since your voice sounds so pretty saying his name, but he decides to give in by slipping his fingers inside. The warm, wet strokes of his tongue paired with a coaxing curl of his two longest digits along your sweetest spot almost cause you to unravel in that very moment. The hard bridge of his nose is nestled right against your clit when he starts to thrash his head back and forth, not caring that you’re nearly ripping his hair out from his scalp. 

It’s merciless. 

The passion at which he throws you into the wall of your first orgasm is unprecedented. You could have been coming for three seconds or three hours on his tongue, but it made no difference in the end. You might’ve even blacked out, but you’re not entirely sure about that either. He stays there, regardless, with a clamped hand around your leg, licking you up until the point where overstimulation starts to take over. 

When you finally regain the ability to open your eyes, you look down to see him smiling at you with the bottom half of his face drenched in your arousal. The shine on his lips glistens in the light, and it almost makes you sad when he starts to wipe it away with his hand. 

“Now it’s my turn to play,” Jake declares into the humid air as he starts to shift his position on the couch.

You shake your head, and before he can ask why, you place your hands firmly on his chest and push him back toward the arm of the couch. He tumbles on his back, taking you with him. He doesn’t complain nor resist in the slightest from you taking charge. Returning the favor, you lick and bite your way down the vulnerable skin of his throat, feeling his adam’s apple move beneath your lips. Kissing your way along his jawline to his ear, you roll the silver hoop decorating his lobe along your tongue. He grabs you by the waist, rocking you over his lap while a whiny moan from him echoes in the room. 

Breaking away from his neck, you sit back on his thighs and start pulling the embossed leather strap through the large buckle, trying your best not to get distracted by the outline of his cock hidden beneath the dark-wash jeans. 

You whip the belt through the loops with an aggressive yank of your wrist and toss it somewhere across the wooden floor, hearing the metal clank against its surface. Once his jeans are unbuttoned, you slip your hand beneath the denim as well as the cotton of his boxer briefs. The exposed band of stomach showing beneath the bottom of his shirt quivers from your gentle touch. Your fingertips run around the warmth of his body, passing over the trimmed hair beneath his waist until you feel the suede-soft skin of his cock. You glance up to see his eyes fixed on your hand as tiny puffs of air leave his open mouth. There isn’t much room for your hand to move in his pant leg as you reach farther down, but you’re shocked by his length when you feel only him. Through an arguably smug laugh, he lifts and helps push his pants down enough that you’re able to release him from the restriction of his clothing. 

With the sheer weight and size of him in your hand, you can’t help your eyes from widening in unfiltered awe. You begin stroking him, watching the beads of precome leak out and catch the light as they drip down. You settle on the couch, lowering your body across his legs in a more comfortable position. 

Right as you’re about to bring the head of Jake’s cock to your waiting lips, you catch the sight of Josh walking past you with the zipper of his jeans opened, stroking himself in lazy pumps of his hand. He doesn’t let your eyes linger more than a second or two before he’s out of your line of vision. 

I guess they really are twins.

Jake’s fingers sweep the fallen hair from your face to get a better look at you. You look up through your lashes just as you flick your pointed tongue along the underside of his length, watching as his eyes roll back behind his heavy lids. 

It might be your only chance of the night, so you jump on the opportunity to tease him. The combination of barely-there brushes of your lips and kitten-licks of a soft tongue is making him shift and squirm beneath you. It’s obvious he’s fighting the urge to take control as his fingers fidget on his lap in building anticipation for what’s to come. 

“Come on, dove. You know I’ve been thinking about those pretty lips wrapped around me all night.” His voice is thick, laden with pure eroticism.   

The confession disguised as a praise  sends a wave of aching need for more. Without wasting another second, you guide him along your flattened tongue, swirling it around every inch of his length. Adjusting to how he fills your mouth, you bob your head slowly with your hand stroking what your lips can’t reach. 

Your attention is drawn away from Jake when you feel the weight of Josh’s knee pressing into the leather as he climbs on the couch behind you, but you still don’t stop the movements of your head. His fingertips are the first thing to touch you, making your back arch from the feeling. They dance across your spine, tracing down the finer details which causes a pitched moan to vibrate around Jake as he nudges the back of your throat. A firm hand kneads your ass, and you swear you can hear his breathing start to quicken over the sound of Jake’s. 

You’re startled when his open palm cracks against it from a forceful slap without warning. It stings as the blood rushes to the surface to leave a reddened print, making you clench your thighs together.

It’s when those fingers roll over your overstimulated clit, that you gasp, gagging on Jake’s cock. The sound and feeling cause a curse to slip from his parted mouth, followed it a loud groan, “Fuck! That dirty little mouth of yours.”

If the tears welling in your eyes that coated your lashes didn’t cloud your vision, you would be able to see Jake’s head whipping forward with his thick brows pinched together when he pushes your head down on him. 

With his hand wrapped around the thick base of himself, Josh taps the head teasingly on the swell of your ass a few times. You wiggle your hips, chasing him as he inches closer and closer before his twin takes notice of his intentions. 

Annoyed with him, Jake scoffs, “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

Josh huffs a dry laugh, quipping back, “Because I do everything first, you prick. I’m five minutes older.”

“That’s a stupid fucking rea-Ah! Oh, fuck!”  A certain lick of your tongue as you ignore their banter causes him to grunt the curses mid-sentence, stopping the thought in its tracks. He pauses to collect himself, gripping your hand as he warns through shallow breaths, “Slow down, baby, or else you’re gonna make me cum soon.”

Josh takes the cue and glides himself into your pussy with a deliberate push of his hips. A ragged, borderline-primal growl rips from the back of his throat the second he bottoms out. The position of his hands slips from your hips down to your waist with a roll of his body with his cock buried deep inside. 

He whines, succumbing to throes of pleasure already, “Oh my — fuck! Fuck, you feel so so good, baby.”

The feeling elicits a similar reaction from you, making you crane your neck so you can watch him slowly retreat from you. His eyes are fixed down at himself being coated with you, slick from your arousal. The unhurried push back into you causes his eyelids to flutter closed. The lean muscles of his abdomen, ones hidden beneath the tattooed skin, flex, and twitch with each stroke. The image of the two large roses on each of his hips, placed on the curvature of his slender stomach, snags your attention the longest before Jake’s fingers hook your chin. 

The slow, subtle grinding of his hips transforms into powerful thrusts, knocking the air from your lungs and causing Jake to slip from your mouth. With your face resting on the softness of his tummy, the strokes of your hand are listless at best. Your cries mix with the distinct sounds each time Josh’s ink-decorated thighs connect with your ass. The broken phrases from him are incoherent, but by the way his movements are starting to stagger in rhythm, he’s closer than you expect. 

Suddenly, with his hand gripped tightly around your waist, he pulls himself from you. You might have complained about the empty feeling you’re left with if you didn’t feel his knuckles brush across your skin with each frantic stroke of his loose fist. His trimmed nails scratch along the small of your back as he falters through a violent shudder, and spills his warm release over the curve of your ass with a breathy string of curses tumbling from his lips. 

Breaking the silence between you, Josh mutters in a strained voice as he pats the other cheek, “Don’t move.”

He stands to his feet, collecting himself through steady breathing as he walks across the room completely naked without a care in the world. Jake takes the moment to tip your chin up and lean down to place his lips to yours, persuading you into a sensual kiss. You don’t dare move an inch as you feel Josh’s release dripping down the back of your leg. Thankfully, he returns within the minute, bringing a warm, damp towel to clean you with. 

After his brother is done taking care of you, Jake bolts upright on his knees, sending you crashing into Josh’s chest, pinning his brother beneath you against the opposite arm of the couch.

You erupt into a fit of giggles as Josh curses from the new position you’re both in. You’re wearing an expression of shock, but Jake only reciprocates with an amused raise of his left brow. “You really thought I was gonna be patient all night?”

Just as Josh had done minutes beforehand, Jake reaches back between his shoulder blades, and rips his black t-shirt off, throwing it somewhere onto the floor into a crumpled pile.

It’s the first time you’re able to see his bare torso so close to your face. Even so, your eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing in particular with the lack of lighting, but what you’re able to see is the distinct outline of a skull with a sword through it in the center of his chest, surrounded by roses and plumes of smoke. It would take you hours of tracing over every line, every inch of the art-covered skin to fully appreciate it all. 

He looks above you, locking eyes with his twin through a silent exchange as if they communicated in an unspoken language. Josh hums in approval, and rubs his hands down the length of your arms before wrapping his long fingers around your wrists. He lifts your hands, and folds them over each other to pin them both behind your head. 

Jake’s eyes find yours for a second, and you swear you can see darkness swirl within the irises like the unforgiving waters of a rough, uncharted sea. His gaze floats down from your face, pausing on your rising and falling chest before it eventually settles between your legs. He wraps his arm around your left thigh, leaving your right untouched, and pulls you up onto the tops of his legs. 

He slips the head of his cock over your clit, causing it to shine in your wetness. With a nudge of his fingers at his base, he guides himself in a teasingly slow pace down to your entrance. You’re impatient and desperate, lifting your hips to take him in. He bites his lip through his intense focus, finding that he doesn’t even have to push, and lets the release of your muscles do the work for him. He slides in effortlessly, stretching you inch-by-inch to the hilt. You both exhale through a strangled gasp, and he stills for a minute, feeling the tightness of your walls clench around him. 

His eyes close just as his head rolls forward with a breathless laugh escaping his chest, “I fucking hate when he’s right, but oh my god your pussy is incredible.”

Josh sings into the tresses of your hair, “Like heaven.”

The skull on his hand stares back at you when he places his palm on your belly while he thrusts deep and slow in each calculated roll of his hips. The added pressure on your stomach as the head of his cock brushes against the special spot with the pad of his thumb rubbing over your clit drags you off the edge into your second orgasm. 

Your upper arms ache as they strain through each flexing muscle you have to endure. It seems rather inconsequential because you don’t even feel like you're present with your physical body with time itself feeling irrelevant. Sounds become muffled like you’ve stuffed balls of cotton into them, even if at one point you’re sure you were screaming.

Jake’s not far away from that place himself, catching up quickly as he rides through the crashing waves of your climax. You wish to have each sway of his tangled hair or how a thin sheen of sweat has coated his body burned into your memory. 

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with his temptations from the look in his eyes that are hidden behind his furrowed brows. He hisses through clenched teeth when reluctantly pulls out from you, and because of the timing, it doesn’t even take a full stroke of his hand before the ropes of his warm come splatter across your stomach. You flinch at the feeling, and Josh releases his hold around your wrists so you can relax them by your sides. 

The three of you take the following minutes to come down from the collective high as your breathing starts to calm down to a normal level. No one has said anything for a while, so you decide that you’ll be the one to break the tension first, “So… do you take credit cards?” 

Josh barks out a hoarse laugh, “Shut the fuck up.”

Jake adds to the laughter, and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He slowly maneuvers off the couch to a standing position beside you. “I think it’s safe to say this one might be on the house.”

Tucking himself back in his jeans while simultaneously looking for the washcloth, he turns to his brother and instructs, “Josh, go ahead and disinfect this couch again.”

Josh groans in annoyance while falling back against the arm of the couch, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

You’re given a new towel to wipe the evidence from your stomach as Jake collects your dress and underwear off the floor and hands them to you. “Here, dove. The bathroom is down the hall and to your left if you want to clean up a bit.” He then looks to Josh, addressing him directly, “Let’s lock up so we can get her back home for round two.”

You feel like you’re weightless, floating across the room, and only making it halfway to the bathroom when you hear Josh blurt out, “Round two?!” 

I think we have something here. 

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