#i woke up in a cold sweat yesterday and was like

[ceruark]

ensnared. (yandere! prince! sunday x gn! royalty! reader)

synopsis: prince sunday invites you to dance the entwine with him. if you evade capture, he’ll finally leave you alone. but if you get caught, you’re his forever. cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, implied stalking words: 3,991 disclaimer/inspiration: the dance “The Entwine” is not my idea! it's from the novel Entwined by Heather Dixon, an all-time favorite of mine :)

“The Entwine, also known as the Gentleman’s Catch, is an amusing and challenging redowa suitable for accomplished partners. [...] Similar to a trois-temps waltz, it is danced in open position with a long sash. The lady and gentleman each take ends of the sash, which their hands must not leave. In a series of quick steps (see below) the gentleman either twists the sash around the lady’s wrists, pinning them (also known as the Catch), or the lady eludes capture within three minutes’ time. STEPS. Twist (35), Needle’s Eye (35), Dip and Turn (36), Lady’s Feint (36), Bridge Arc (36), Under-Arm Swoop (37), Thread (37), Beading the Sash (38), the Catch (38).”

Excerpt from Entwined by Heather Dixon

It has been a year since the queen died.

You stand in the grand ballroom of your palace for the first time since your mother's death. It seems dimmer without her, lacking the light her laughter brought to it. Every shift of skirts has you looking for her, only to be disappointed when you catch yourself seeking out a ghost.

She ruled alone for nearly fifteen years. After your father died in battle when you were young, many other kingdoms tried to swoop in after she became widowed. They vied for her hand in marriage so they could expand their territory and get their hands on the lucrative gemstones that are excavated from your land's caverns. But the queen was unshakable, and she refused to remarry, continuing to keep her kingdom safe and opulent all on her own.

And she died last winter, an incurable sickness settling in her lungs seemingly overnight and stealing her final breath within the week.

You hardly had time to mourn her. With no one sitting on the throne, your mother's advisory court scrambled to find you a suitor so that you could marry and be crowned as soon as possible. There hadn't been a rush to find you one, but with the queen's sudden death, they need to get you on the throne before someone else came along to seize it.

Tonight, Welt— formerly your mother's personal advisor— had declared while you prepared for the ball. Tonight, we will find you a suitor. You will be coronated by summer.

You sigh as your gaze sweeps over the ballroom. Truthfully, you have no interest in any of the attendants. Most of them don't have anything noteworthy about their personalities, and those that do are individuals you've mentally decided are best kept at arm's length. You’re certain that more than half your selection pool were invited out of courtesy; none of them possess enough influence or value for your mother's advisory court to approve of a marriage between the two of you.

Except for one.

Penacony's beloved prince has been pursuing you for as long as you could remember. It started off innocent, a mere childhood crush. Long before you were adolescents, he would pluck flowers from the centerpiece vases on ballroom tables and hand them to you, ever the gentleman. You can still remember the sound of whichever court member was assigned to look after you cooing at the sight, endeared as you accepted the flower from his hands and spent the rest of the night at his side, discussing all the important matters that plagued the minds of young royalty.

And then, things changed.

As you two grew older, something about him shifted— you couldn't quite explain it. It made your skin crawl, the way his gaze trailed you throughout the ballroom, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long when he kissed your hand in greeting, the way anyone you shared mutual romantic interest with started avoiding you like the plague the second he heard of your budding relationship. There was something off about him— about his infatuation with you— and you distanced yourself from him as much as possible over the years.

Your mother's advisory court had been furious; they believed your eventual marriage to Sunday was set in stone given how taken you were with each other as children, and they planned for a prosperous future backed by Penacony's enormous and infinite wealth. They took your refusal to interact with him as rebellion and scoffed at your explanations, but luckily, you weren't alone in your suspicions. Your mother and Welt were also unsettled by the way he looked at you at formal gatherings, and your mother swiftly shut down her court's insistences on you trying to make amends with Penacony's prince.

We have no need for marriages of convenience. My child's happiness and safety will be valued above all else, she told them, and it was the end of the discussion.

Welt has upheld her and your wishes following her death, but the rest of the court are more willing to challenge him than they'd been to challenge the queen. Multiple court members have pestered you about marrying Sunday, stating that he would readily agree; you would get on the throne quickly, and the kingdom would prosper with his empire’s assets. Though they drop the topic the second you snap at them, you can tell they're still scheming, pulling at whatever strings they can to bring the prince back into your favor and push you into his arms.

And the undeniable proof of that stands across the room, piercing you with his golden eyes. Of course he's among the guests the court selected for you to choose your partner from. What else could you expect from them?

You sigh and swipe a glass of wine off a nearby table. It's going to be an incredibly long night.

As you sip at the bitter liquid and eye the blonde prince from Belobog, a familiar voice sounds behind you. "Something troubles you, Your Highness."

You turn around, relaxing at the sight of your faithful personal advisor. Veritas gazes down at you, face as neutral as ever.

"Someone," you respond, a frown tugging at your lips. "It appears the court is still refusing to let go of their little delusion."

He glances over your shoulder and hums noncommittally. "It appears so."

You swirl the red wine around in your glass, continuing your sweep of the guests. Certainly, Belobog's prince seemed like your best option right now. Albeit easily flustered, he was sweet and courageous— you would be able to fall for him given the time.

"Gepard Landau?" Veritas asks, his gaze having followed yours to the man standing beside his sister and her wife.

You look up, meeting his doubtful gaze. "Do you see any better options?"

He takes another glance around the room, then grimaces. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden laugh.

"Though he may be the most respectable of your options, there is not much Belobog can offer you." He tilts his head, still staring out at the crowd. "I suggest you reconsider."

You flash him a tight, sarcastic smile. "If that is the standard you suggest I go by, then my options are narrowed down to Aventurine and Sunday."

You get along fine with the blonde lord hailing from IPC territory, and he possesses charm like no other. He's gotten you more flustered than any other suitor has, but you know it's all fake. Something lurks beneath his picture-perfect exterior, and he keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to guess what his true intentions are. Someone like that can't be good news for you.

Veritas sighs. "I suppose Landau will have to do, then."

A flurry of movement and fabric draws your gaze to the dance floor. You light up as you watch two figures dance in the center of the crowd, one ducking and dodging out of reach while the other tries with fervor to capture them in their arms.

They've finally brought out the silk sashes used to dance the Entwine.

Your Entwine record is exemplary. When dancing as the gentleman, there were only a handful of people you hadn't been able to catch— Aventurine being one of them. Though your record dancing as gentleman is flawed, your skill when dancing as lady is unmatched and known far and wide.

In all your years, you have never been caught during a dance.

"Wonderful," you say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You could already feel the exhilaration that came with successful capture and evasion. You turn to your advisor, eyes glistening beneath the lights. "Veritas, would you be so kind as to humor me with a dance?"

You think it's the light playing tricks on your eyes when he flushes red. Before he can respond, though, Welt strides up to the two of you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps you could get to know your potential suitors better through the Entwine, no?" The man you've come to think of as a father figure smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing as he does. "You enjoy it so much, hopefully it can be used to bring you closer to someone— both literally and figuratively speaking."

Your smile matches his. "I think that's a great idea."

"Perfect." Welt turns toward the dance floor. "Allow me to announce—"

He stops dead in his tracks, freezing just in time to prevent himself from walking into someone. He backs up, and your blood runs cold at the sight left behind.

Sunday stands before you, pristine as ever, with a silver sash draped over his arm.

Welt finds his voice before you do. "Prince Oak," he greets, dipping his head into a bow. "A pleasure to see you again. We are very grateful for your attendance."

Sunday looks at him. The fond expression he had fixed on you smooths out into his perfect half-smile. He nods at Welt in acknowledgement. "Imperial Advisor Yang." He turns to your left, appearing less enthused to greet Veritas. "Imperial Advisor Ratio."

His eyes land on you again, and a chill runs down your spine. You force a polite smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly. "Prince Oak. An honor to see you again."

He sounds breathless when he responds. "The honor is all mine."

When his gaze starts to grow heavy on your shoulders, Welt clears his throat. He eyes the fabric hanging off of Sunday's arm. "I suppose you are here with... intent, yes?"

"Correct," Sunday says. He glances down at the silk, reaching up to pinch a part of it between his fingers.

He meets your eyes again, his face imperceptible. It's more terrifying than his openly longing and lingering gaze.

"I wish to dance the Entwine with you," he says, voice diplomatic and devoid of emotion. "If you are willing."

You clench your hands behind your back. "Will you be dancing gentleman or lady?"

"Gentleman." He pauses, voice lowering a bit. "I wish to try and catch you."

You smother a scowl before it can crawl its way onto your face. Of course he would want to dance as gentleman. How typical.

But there's something to his demeanor that tells you there's more to it than he's letting on. It's sitting on the tip of his tongue: his real intent behind asking you to dance with him.

"For what reason do you wish to dance with me?" In a quieter, harsher tone, you add, "Be honest with me, or I will refuse outright."

His fingers run over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles that snag them. He tilts his head to the side, and the desire that swims in his eyes leaves you shaking.

"If I catch you," he says slowly, "you will give me your hand in marriage."

Bile burns at the back of your throat, your anxiety clawing its way up and trying to escape. It's a bold declaration, especially when directed at someone who has never been caught before. Your faith in your skill is resolute, but the sheer desperation on his face is enough to make you hesitate.

Your voice trembles slightly when you speak. "And if you fail?"

He hums, flicking his gaze off to the side. "If I fail, I will never ask for it again."

You latch onto the statement like a moth to a flame. All you have to do is avoid capture— something you've done time and again— to get him to leave you alone. You've never seen him dance the Entwine, or show any interest in it; undoubtedly, your skill will lead you to successful evasion.

This is your chance to get him off your back, for good.

Before you can respond, a firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you backward.

"Your Highness," Veritas whispers into your ear, barely contained urgency lacing his words. "Please consider this carefully. Is this a risk you are willing to take?"

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. "I have never been caught," you mutter back.

His brows pinch together. "There is a first time for everything, and you cannot afford to let this one be that time."

You clench your jaw and cast Sunday a sidelong glance. He stares back at you, his posture perfect and features serene despite the way his eyes drink you in, ravenous. There is, as always, truth to what Veritas is saying; you've never seen Sunday dance the Entwine, but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know how, or that he isn't good at it. There's still a high chance you'll be able to evade him given your record, but the chance of him being able to successfully pull off the Catch, though small, is still a potential outcome that shouldn’t be overlooked.

After all, he wouldn't be asking you if the possibility was as slim as you believe it to be.

You bite your lip, hesitating. You look to Welt, pleading for direction. He locks eyes with you briefly, looking just as concerned as Veritas, before he steps forward and partially shields you from Sunday's view.

"Perhaps another time," he says, a polite grin finding its way onto his face. "We are just coming out of mourning, and though it is nice to be part of festivities again, perhaps dancing is still a bit too much for Our Highness right now— the late queen was very fond of the Entwine. Please understand."

Sunday's mask wavers, irritation seeping through the cracks at Welt's excuse. His sharp gaze cuts back to you, but you let your eyes drift back to the dance floor, refusing to meet it.

The tension is broken by the sound of clapping. You turn your head, frowning at the sight of a member of the advisory court approaching.

"Oh, how lovely!" She swoons, pressing a hand to her chest. Her face is flushed from the wine and she speaks loudly, drawing the ballroom's attention to the cluster of people around you. "Our Highness is going to dance the Entwine with Prince Oak!"

All eyes are on you. Your guests whisper to each other, their excitement tangible and filling the air with charged energy. A long time coming, they think to themselves, oblivious to the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. Sunday's affinity for you isn't a secret, especially not to the royal families who watched you two grow up at each other's side. To them, this dance is simply an age-old rumor finally coming into fruition, the first step toward solidifying your relationship with Sunday. And to the advisors scattered around the ballroom, watching you like hawks, it is their efforts finally paying off— the final nail in your coffin that will secure the future they envision for your kingdom.

Refusing him now, under countless pairs of hopeful eyes, would undoubtedly leave an ugly smear on your reputation and the integrity of your kingdom.

Your tongue sits dry and heavy in your mouth. You almost choke on it when Sunday's hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you toward the dance floor. He practically preens under the attention and pressure. It makes you sick.

Another hand catches your elbow in a bruising grip, and you jolt back, only barely catching yourself to make it seem as though you tripped. You angle your body in a way that prevents the crowd from seeing Veritas's vice grip on your arm.

"My Highness has not agreed to anything yet," he bites out in a low whisper, venom dripping off his tongue.

Sunday's eyes snap to him. His scathing glare does nothing to deter your advisor, who glares back at him in response.

When he looks back to you, the deceptively serene look has returned. With the arm not holding the sash, he extends a hand out to you, tilting his head to the side in question. The guests closest to you all coo fondly.

There's a hint of a smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

You place a hand over Veritas's, gently prying his fingers from your arm. You can't bear to look at him right now. "It will be fine," you murmur. "I promise."

You run your hands along your sleeves, wiping off as much of the sweat as you can. You inhale shakily, trying to keep the ballroom tile beneath your feet from swimming.

You look up, a practiced, graceful smile tilting your lips upward. You delicately place your hand in his, suppressing a shudder when he brings it to his lips and presses it to them. The steadiness and strength in your voice surprises you when you say, "Of course, Prince Oak."

The ballroom erupts into a mixture of chatter and cheers. Court advisors pester the crowd surrounding the dance floor, ushering them back and trying to clear a pathway for the two of you. You swallow thickly as Sunday closes his hand around your trembling one.

You turn to Welt and gesture at his pocket with your free hand. "If you would be so kind, Advisor Welt."

He nods stiffly, reaching into his coat and producing a golden pocket watch. "Of course, Your Highness."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as Sunday guides you to the dance floor. A numbness settles over you, and you robotically nod and smile at the guests that you pass. Their eyes shine with an adoration that you could never possess for this supposed relationship— for him.

Sunday releases your hand when you two reach the center of the dance floor. His eyes are dark as he holds one end of the sash out to you. You take it into your hands and back away from him, toward the other end of the floor. Sunday does the same, and you both stop when the sash is pulled so taught that it tugs you a few steps forward.

The familiar fabric and set-up do little to comfort you.

The crowd shifts again, and Welt emerges from it, standing front and center before the dance floor. He holds the pocket watch up to his face, and your breath hitches with anticipation.

"Your three minutes begins..." His voice reverberates off the ballroom walls, resounding clearly over the jubilant tune the orchestra plays.

"Now."

Adrenaline shoots through you like lightning, and you fly into motion. Your vision sharpens, focused in on every movement Sunday makes as you analyze the arc of his arms and the force behind his tugs on the sash. With each under-arm swoop, you dip beneath his arms and twirl away from him with ease, the steps of the dance coming to you the way breathing does.

He's an adept dancer, you'll give him that. Perhaps if his partner was anyone else, he would have already caught them already, within the first minute of the dance. But you are untouchable on an average night, and on this one in particular, you push yourself past your limits, propelled forward by a fervor and desperation to evade his every attempt of entangling you in his arms.

Twist. Needle's Eye.

"Two minutes," Welt calls out.

Approaching another under-arm swoop, you glance at Sunday's face just in time to see displeasure flicker across it at Welt's announcement. As you glide away from him once more, unfurling the sash between you two, he gives it a sharp tug, causing you to stumble a bit and lose your footing. Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly recover, forcing your limbs to move faster and smoother and match the rapid tempo he has now set for the dance.

Sweat beads along your upper lip as you duck under Sunday's arms repeatedly. You're managing just fine, but you've never had to push yourself this hard before; keeping a close eye on his movements while making sure the sash doesn't get tangled around your wrists is a delicate balancing act, and you can feel yourself teetering back and forth, dangerously close to falling off.

He's a far more formidable partner than you could have ever imagined.

Dip and Turn. Lady's Feint.

"One minute."

Sunday furiously yanks on the sash mid-twirl, and you stagger forward. The sash wraps around your wrists once, twice— three times before you regain your footing and lean back, narrowly avoiding Sunday's sweeping arm that almost hooks around your own.

A chorus of gasps ripples through the crowd at your near capture. It worsens your fraying nerves.

You exhale with exertion, trembling on unsteady legs as Sunday raises the stakes yet again. The tempo he sets is merciless, and your body is jostled between the last of your will and the harsh tugs from the other end of the sash. You grit your teeth. The silk digs tighter into your flesh and sends pinpricks of pain up your arms with each snap of his wrists.

Bridge Arc. Under-Arm Swoop.

"Thirty seconds."

The speed at which you weave in and out of spins leaves you dizzy, nauseous. The ballroom melts into incomprehensible shapes and colors around you. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, a pitiful attempt to ground yourself so you won't trip up. 

You do anyway; Sunday's movements are too fluid and swift to keep up with.

The sash binds around your wrists five more times, bringing you even closer to him— too close. You're not sure if it's skill, luck, or sheer force of will that allows you to continue to dodge his attempts at ensnaring you, but you know that you shouldn't be able to do it at this distance.

Frustration peeks through his graceful disposition. His golden eyes trail you, chasing after you as you elude his grasp once more.

Thread. Beading the Sash.

"Fifteen seconds."

You throw yourself into another dip, eyes locked onto the floor just beyond the arm obscuring your line of vision.

If you dodge this one, you'll be free.

Sunday lifts his arms suddenly and pulls, bringing the sash as far back as he can without letting go. Your arms twist in the air behind your back. A strangled gasp leaves you as you lose your footing. In a whirl of fabric, you stagger backward, away from the other side of his outstretched arm.

The Catch.

Your back slams into something solid, and before you can process what has happened, a firm arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you flush against the body behind you. Your hands, still bound together, dig into your collarbone, suspended at an awkward angle from the sash held above you.

The crowd erupts into noise.

In front of you, a little girl pulls on her mother's sleeve and points in your direction. "Mommy, he caught Our Highness!"

Behind them, Veritas stares at you, petrified and speechless.

Snapping out of your stunned stupor feels like coming up for air after almost drowning. You suck in a shuddering breath and writhe, yanking your arms against the sash and leaning forward, futilely trying to escape. Sunday gathers the last of the fabric in his hands and gives it another sharp tug, keeping you in place against him.

He lowers his head, and his lips brush over your ear as he speaks. "Magnificent," he whispers. His voice rumbles with pleasure, almost to the point of purring. "You are truly a talented dancer."

"Let me go," you rasp out. You're physically exhausted, and your racing, panicked heart prevents you from catching your breath.

Sunday hums again, bringing the hand holding the sash to brush your cheek gently. "Why would I do that?" He chuckles softly, and it's so genuine— not the slightest bit mocking— that it leaves you all the more unsettled. "I caught you."

He brings his arm down, settling it around your waist. His fingers brush over your bound hands, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.

"You're finally mine."

[thebestofthebestofthebestof]

I really need this sick to be over with =_= i just fainted knocking over all my doll boxes, breaking one in the process, and then threw up a bunch of bile. When i eat everything tastes bad...im hot and cold and sweaty...my throat is burning...my mouth is so dry...im in agony

[honestlyawesome]

I do still wake up very early and most of the time with a great weakness in my heart. But it’s ok

[avonne-writes]

happy b-day! 🍰

from the prompts: [ TUG ] receiver, trying to get ready for the day, is pulled back into bed by sender

Thank you, dear anon! 💕 Have some silly HS AU fluff. Set in the summer between Year 10 and 11, so they’re 16. Harding and Georgia have just started seriously dating.

~

Gale wakes up to the rumble of a motorcycle outside the window. Half-asleep, it takes his brain a moment to register the sensations around him. The stuffy air of Bucky’s room, hot and humid from the late morning sunshine that pushes the summer heat inside despite the drawn blinds. The warmth of an arm around his waist, sweat gathering where skin meets skin. His bare legs, tangled with Bucky’s, the ticklish feeling of hair catching on hair. Bucky’s peaceful breathing against his neck, where Gale knows a giant hickey blooms. They were going to steal a bit of make-up from Georgia to cover it up, but he doesn’t think they will get a chance now.

Gale’s eyes snap open in horror. She came home early!

“Fuck!” He swears and scrambles to get up. At the last moment, he remembers his nakedness, and feels the rush of blood to his cheeks at the realization. He’s not wearing anything. Not. A single. Thing. And neither does Bucky. This was the first time that they actually slept like this, and of course, of course this is the one time when she comes home before she said she would. Gale allows himself a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and purse his lips in that dreadful feeling of dismay that follows. He should’ve known!

Cursing in panic in his mind, he looks around the room. He’s too self-conscious to just stand up and search for his underwear like this, so he pulls the thin summer blanket around his waist as a cover. But he’s too slow - all the jostling around woke Bucky up too and, predictably, the first thing he does is wrapping his long arms around Gale’s middle and pulling him back down.

The way Gale lands on his back with his hair splayed on the pillow feels like defeat.

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky purrs, blinking at him lazily, unperturbed by the wide-eyed look Gale shoots him.

“Your mom’s home.”

“So?” Bucky rubs their noses together. “Not like she’s gonna come in here. Let’s cuddle for a few more minutes.” His voice ends on a whine.

“She’s so gonna come in.” Gale hisses at him, moving to stand up again, but Bucky holds him tighter in his embrace and starts kissing his cheek and neck. The way it makes Gale shiver and go boneless when those lips touch the hickey is super embarrassing, but he can’t help it. It’s so thrilling, so new, and his limbs seem to melt from the fluttering kisses, entirely out of his control. He lays his palm on Bucky’s biceps and gets lost in it for a moment, until he hears the engine shut off, then a man’s laugh from outside.

His blood runs cold in fear.

“Is that the guy?” He whispers as if Georgia’s boyfriend was standing just outside the door. “Bucky, is that the guy?”

“Geez, Buck, relax.” Bucky rubs Gale’s chest over Gale’s frantically pounding heart. “He’s not scary at all.”

Not scary, not scary. What does Bucky know about that? Gale grouches pettily in his own head but doesn’t say anything out loud. He knows that Bucky hasn’t had a male figure in his life since middle school, and even then, it’s not like his dad was ever around enough to show him how quickly a friendly hand could turn into a weapon.

“I need to get dressed.”

Bucky lets him extricate himself from the embrace, but he makes no move to follow him, not even when Gale steals the blanket to look for his clothes. He just sprawls there on his stomach, pale ass on display, without a care in the world. Gale avoids looking at him altogether. The clothes he wore yesterday are too wrinkled to be presentable and not exactly fresh-smelling, so he opens Bucky’s closet and rummages around until he finds the stuff he left here over the past couple of weeks, washed clean and smelling like the floral detergent Georgia uses. He puts them on, feeling better already as they cover his bare skin. He goes to throw the blanket on Bucky, but he doesn’t account for Bucky’s long-ass arms and his habit of pouncing on Gale out of pure affection. Before he knows it, his arms are grabbed, and he’s yanked back down on the mattress.

Despite himself, Gale laughs as he and Bucky wrestle, and then they're kissing, just like that. Gale is so into it that he completely forgets about everything else the moment Bucky presses him down and licks between his parted lips. He cups Bucky’s face and strokes his cheeks with his thumbs as they make out, pushing his chin up to take more, to get him closer. It’s been so intense lately, even painful sometimes because nothing feels like enough, and Gale is burning up with it. The past month has been nothing short of an inferno. He didn’t realize that having sex would affect everything else too. He didn’t know.

Downstairs, the front door opens.

“John.” Gale breaks away from Bucky's mouth with a sticky sound and a gasp. He rarely calls Bucky by his first name because it feels too serious, but when they're like this, in each other's arms, something in him longs to connect to him like that. “What if he comes inside?”

Bucky combs his fingers through Gale's messy hair, catching on a few knots and making Gale wince by accident. “His name is Chick.”

“Chick?” Gale makes a face. “You can’t call him Chick.”

“Why not?” Bucky grins, cocky in a way that's entirely for Gale’s entertainment. “That’s his biker name.”

Gale snorts a laugh. Biker name. Right. He can tell that Bucky’s already hooked on the cool persona this guy displays, regardless of how much of it is true. Something protective flares to life in Gale's stomach at the thought. It makes him braver. He doesn’t want Bucky to get attached to some asshole replacement of his father and have his heart broken all over again. “What does your mom call him?”

Bucky lays his head on Gale’s chest and cuddles him again. “Neil.”

Gale knows he shouldn't stay like this. He should try to sort out the tangle of his hair and come up with a solution to hide the love bite before Georgia sits them down to give them the Talk. He shudders just thinking about it. He knows that Bucky already got it once, last year when Gale stayed the night for the first time. Bucky claims it was the most embarrassing moment of his life, and although there's tough competition for that title, Gale is inclined to believe it.

But the weight of Bucky's head and arm feels so comforting that he can’t help but close his eyes again, smiling at the ceiling in contentment. He pets at Bucky's hair and marvels at the shape of his curls under his palm.

The front door closes and, to Gale's relief, the motorbike roars to life again and rides away.

"Johnny, I’m home!" Georgia calls out downstairs. Normally, Bucky would already be there, nosing around in her bags to see if she bought any food, but not today.

Instead, he groans, ducks lower in bed and attempts to wriggle under Gale’s armpit, between his side and the bed. Gale shifts to get up again, but Bucky continues clinging to him, and they laugh and push at each other too loudly to hear the stairs creak.

Next thing they know, there's a knock on the door.

Gale jumps up as if burned and takes a few steps away from the bed, but there’s nowhere to run or hide. His hair is a mess, there are clothes strewn over the floor, even the fucking lube is on the bedside table, he realizes with utter, blinding panic. But there’s nothing he can do about it - the door handle moves, and all they have time for is for Gale to slap a hand over the side of his neck and Bucky to drape the blanket fully over himself. A split second later, Georgia takes a step inside the room.

The moment her soft brown eyes land on Gale, she lights up. "Oh, hi sweetheart, I didn’t know you stayed the night."

Gale's face is aflame. Frozen in place like an idiot, he probably looks even more awkward than he feels. "Um, yeah. Hi Georgia."

"Is your neck all right?" She asks in concern.

"Yeah, just a crick." He laughs, too breathy not to give away the lie, but it’s overshadowed by the cry that comes from Bucky at the same time.

"Mom, go away!"

"I'm going!" She raises her hands apologetically, but her lips are wobbling into a smile. "Just wanted to check on you, darling."

"I'm not five!" Bucky exclaims again, holding his head with both hands in mortification.

"All right, all right!" Georgia gives Gale a fondly amused look, then shuts the door and walks down the hall to her own bedroom.

Gale grabs a random piece of clothing from the floor and throws it at Bucky's back. "I told you."

Bucky groans into his pillow.

[eimids]

Sickness and cuddles

Lionesses x reader

Part6?

It’s once again just a blurb

”Y/n, open up the door, let’s go to breakfast” Esme knocked on your door.

She knocked again but when you didn’t open the door, she left to go get breakfast. You were sound asleep in your room during a morning at the camp.

Last night you had went outside to the pouring rain with Ella and Alessia which probably wasn’t that great idea since it was a December. During the night you woke up multiple times to shivering. You were sweating cold sweat and overall you felt horrible.

Then around 8 you woke up shivering once again. You hadn’t heard Esme’s knocks but still you woke up soon after them. You knew you had a fever and the best thing to do would be to just call the Sarina and let her know but you were stubborn. You decided that you could make it to breakfast and after that you would see if your state got any better.

You slowly started to get out if bed, stretching your limbs slowly but as you stood up, you were quick to faint to the ground, hitting your head in the process.

Your teammates at breakfast quickly got concerned when you didn’t show up. Beth was the first to go ask Ella and Lessi if they knew where you were since you hang out all the time.

“I don’t know I haven’t seen her since last night” Ella answered Beth. She was a bit worried too now.

”Yeah I mean we were in the rein yesterday and after that she went to bed” Alessia explained

“You were in the rain? In the cold?” It was Lucy who spoke now. She was like a oldersister to you at camp. Always looking after you and taking your side.

“Well yeah but we didn’t thi..” Ella started

“She’s probably sick, maybe we should go see her in her room” Lucy stopped the younger girl.

“Leah don’t you have the keys?” Beth asked the skipper.

“Yeah I can come with you to check on her” She answered anfd got up.

You teammates found their way to your room quickly, shock put on their face as they saw you on the floor. You had a little bump on your forehead which they assumed came from you falling down.

Lucy was the first beside you. She quickly put her hand on your head and realized that you were burning up. You had a fever of at least 39 degrees.

“She’s burning up, we nedd to get her to the medical room” Lucy said and then the three girls carried you to the medical room which usually was used for sprained ankles and other sports injuries.

You laid there still unconscious as the team’s doctor checked you out. She checked you temperature to find it be 40,7 degrees. She was a bit worried for that but otherwise you were fine. A little dehydrated so she started an IV.

“She’s probably going to wake up soon, you can call me then I’ll be in the next room. I’ll give her some medicine then but now let’s just wait for her to wake up” The doctor said and left the lionesses alone.

“I’ll call Sarina and inform her” Beth said and stepped out of the room.

Soon after that you woke up and were given a shit ton of meds. Leah was kind enough to bring you water bottle to you and you happily drank from it.

You were still hazy and groggy from the fever but you didn’t want to stay in the hospital like room.

“I just want to go to bed please” You said in a tired voice. Obviously your teammates couldn’t resist that request and after checking with the doctor, they helped you back to your room.

“Lucia” You said as they were about to leave.

“Yes sweetie” She answered.

“Can you come cuddle with me” You asked half awake.

Lucy had a little concussion the other day so she wasn’t allowed to train that day.

“Of course, anything for you little” Lucy answered. She said bye to Leah and Beth who were ready to give Alessia and Ella a mouthful.

Lucy just settled next to you under the sheets and was met by your warm frame.

You loved nothing more than cuddling with your closest people. So that’s how you fell back asleep. Lucy laying next to you, playing with your hair.

[faeriekit]

Things Long Gone

for a phic phight prompt from @armed-with-knitting-needles

Edward Lancer woke up the same way he did every morning.

He rolled out of bed. Brushed his teeth. Changed into a button-up and a tie, and slacks he wouldn’t hate throughout the course of the day.

He made his coffee like he did every day: he stuck his thermos under the machine, waited with a slice of toast until the coffee maker stopped pouring, and capped it in one smooth motion that shook its contents until everything was relatively mixed inside. No sweetners. No sugar. No milk.

Great. Ed went to grab his keys…

…His keys weren’t on the hook.

He blinked, hand frozen in its attempt so reach what wasn’t there. His. Where were his keys? He’d had them yesterday.

…He was pretty sure he’d had them yesterday. Hadn’t he gone to see Lizzy and the new baby? His sister had been so excited to show Charlotte off to her new uncle. Ed had been excited to go.

…Whatever. Amity Park was relatively walkable; as long as he dashed, he could get there in time.

So, off he jogged, into the hot, early morning, sweating and puffing as he went.

*

Ed made to the school entrance just as the bell rang for first period. He sighed, struggling for air—but at least he’d be able to swap in for Mrs. Keppler’s math course this morning. Man, he felt as if he’d run every class at this point. They might as well make him the—

Something invisible SLAMMED into his face.

His nose crunched. Ed swore in every classic title he knew, stumbling back and grabbing at his nose—ugh, and his fingers were coming away wet. He had to go see the nurse, or, more likely, the hospital. He was later than ever, but he’d have to—

He tried for the door again. Again, something stopped him.

…Ed frowned. He rapped against the invisible boundary with his knuckles. It was probably ghosts, again, but this was unusually…static. Benign?

“Ed, good heavens! What happened to your face?”

Ed turned around, nose slowly beginning to swell up in his hands as Ms. Cathleen Rylant stalked up the walkway to the school. “G’Morning,” he grunted, unable to summon the capacity for proper pronunciation. “I…seem to be blocked from getting into the building.”

Cathleen frowned. Her shoulder bag was pulled higher onto her thin, elderly shoulder: a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ed! Is there anything…”

“Do you mind testing it for me?” Ed tried, carefully cupping the blood he could feel from dripping down onto his dress shirt. “If it affects you, or is unique to me…”

There were a few ghosts that targeted individuals. Ed had some surety that the genie ghost had gotten him to ‘call out from school’ today—there was a text today, and he would not put it past

“Got it,” the elderly science teacher offered sweetly. Cathleen was a gift, truly. “Was it…?”

Ed smacked a hand against the barrier. There was no visible sign of it—no distortion, no ripple, no change in color.

“Got it.” Cathleen—and her much more fragile bones—carefully put a hand out, expecting to be able to put her weight on it.

She just barely caught her balance before falling onto the concrete step. Ed reached out a hand to help her, and, of course, ended up with bruised fingers for the trouble. He swore.

“Huh,” she said. “…Well, I’m late for first period anyway; want me to tell Yuuko what’s holding you up?”

Ed sighed. He reminded himself that informing their principal would be best, considering the circumstances… “Yes, please. Thank you, Cathleen.”

“No problem, Ed.”

And Edward Lancer sat on the front step of the school, back leaned against nothing, and waited to see what could be done for him.

He took his hand away from his nose to reach for his coffee.

…His blood wasn’t red.

Ed’s blood went cold.

Wait. Why had—

—Screeching tires, metal SLAMMED into its final place, snapping, cracking, the lights cutting out, a choked last breath—

…Ed’d had his car yesterday. Why didn’t he have it this morning?

“I’m imagining things,” Ed muttered to himself. He wiped the green blood onto the back of his clean plants and resolved to wait for Principal Ishiyama.

*

Mr. Lancer was still outside the school by the time lunch rolled around.

“So he’s just…hanging out?” Sam asked around a mouthful of vegan-and-cruelty-free sushi, staring from their place under the tree at their teacher and his crowd of educational professionals.

Danny shrugged. He swallowed a bite of ham-and-baloney. “Looks like,” he observed. They watched as Mr. Lancer proved, again, that no matter how hard his middle-age-professional bulk heaved and pushed, there was no getting past the entryway into the school.

“…Huh.” Sam took a second bite. Across the yard, Mr. Lancer slipped on the invisible barrier, and everyone got closer to help pick him off the ground. “Any idea why this is happening?”

Danny put his sandwich down. He didn’t say anything.

Sam turned to look at him. “Danny?”

“…I saw an accident on the way home with Dad last night,” Danny offered quietly. He picked a little speck of nothing off of his sandwich. “The two cars were bent in half at the bottom of the ravine. There were rescue trucks and police all over the other side of the highway; cars were backed up for like four exits behind it. One of the cars looked like Mr. Lancer’s gray crapbox, but it’s not like I could get a good look…”

Sam went quiet. Danny stayed quiet.

They watched as Mr. Lancer explained, again, for the nineteenth time, that he couldn’t get into the school, and didn’t know why.

“…Oh,” said Sam. She set her chopsticks down.

“Mmhmm.” Danny swallowed. “Uh…looks like Mom’s updates on the ghost shields are working, though.”

“No kidding,” Sam echoed absently.

Eventually, lunch was over. When they went back inside, half-eaten lunches packed back up to take home for later, the distant figure of Mr. Lancer was still outside the school door, hoping to be let back in.

[freyarabbit]

Megumi who comforts you after you have a nightmare...♡

[2:44 am]

You woke up in a cold sweat, heart beating at an unbelievable rate, you couldn't stop yourself from shaking one bit, because you didn't even try. Your mind in so many different places...

As you finally calmed down enough to make a decision, you froze. You felt watched.

Beginning to doubt if you'd be able to sleep tonight, you were on the verge of tears. Before realizing that there's something you can do.

Shakily getting off your bed, it took a little bit for you to stand steady on your feet. Twisting the door handle as slowly as possible, pillow in hand, you slowly made your way to your boyfriend's dorm room. Thanking your immature teacher in your mind, for giving you a room number pretty close to Megumi's.

If he hadn't been there, you would've just sucked it up and suffered the rest of the night, too scared of losing your pride as a sorcerer, wanting to be seen as fearless, even by someone you'd consider a close friend.

The creaking of the wooden floor beneath you felt so loud compared to how usually you wouldn't hear it even if you tried with the way you were walking.

Finally at his door, you breathed in, before lightly knocking, in a way that if he were to be in a deep sleep, he wouldn't hear. You'd always been a considerate person, always wanting to not be a nuisance to other people.

Megumi's head perked up, he'd recognized you by the way you knocked. It could just be considered another one of his senses at this point. He felt concern washing over him, wondering what could've brought you to him this late.

He'd been awake for a while, having difficulty sleeping due to the cold. He found himself like this quite often, so deep down he felt relieved as well.

Getting up as fast as he could, he quickly made his way to the door, opening it up, to be met with your cute face. He could've sworn he almost got hard looking at you like that, but then he noticed the worry on your face as well. How your eyes were a little red and swollen.

"Hey...are you okay?" He asked, tilting his head a little to get a better look at you

"Can I...sleep with you? I had a nightmare..."

"You don't need to ask y'know, just come on in"

He gently wrapped his hand around your arm, pulling you inside.

You got into his bed, the heat from his body from earlier still lingering on it, giving you a sense of comfort as he got on after you.

His hands began pulling you in slowly, to which you responded by swiftly closing in the distance between you both, tightly hugging him.

That caught him a little off guard, but he leaned into your touch the moment you stuck yourself to him.

Laying there for a bit, letting the warmth build up, he gently stroked your hair. His breath tickling you, causing you to let out small sighs. All before he finally spoke,

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Kissing your forehead, he looked down at your vulnerable frame, as you slowly looked up at him with your eyes, which he always compared to those of a goddess in his mind, even if he never said it to you out loud.

You nodded, ready to reveal everything to him and finally spend the night in his arms, with your bodies glued together.

———

This is basically just what I wanted to happen when I had a nightmare yesterday. Delusions to the rescue, yay

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley hang out for a third time and are both left questioning whether or not a friendship could form between the two of you, or something else entirely.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley was still thinking about the quick kiss you pressed to his cheek last night, even a whopping sixteen hours later.

Your lips felt soft and unfamiliar, but he found himself wanting to feel them again. And again. 

You had only given him a small, friendly peck, but it was enough to have him driving back to the frat house with a semi that only got worse the longer he let himself think about you. 

It was quite ridiculous, the effect you have on him. He felt like a teenager again, getting hard from just a kiss on the fucking cheek. 

Still, you were his friend - at least he and you were on the way to being friends - and he didn’t want to let himself think about you like that.

He ended up taking a cold shower then going to bed, but to his surprise, he was still thinking about you when he woke up seven hours later. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He was supposed to be bettering himself so he could get Bri back, but he was barely thinking about her lately. 

Bradley grabbed his phone and sat up as he clicked onto his messages, and he saw that Bri hadn’t gotten back to him after he finally texted her a response yesterday. 

Typical. 

He wished he hadn’t texted her back, because now he had taken the bait she left out and looks like the one who can’t move on, when she so clearly had. 

Instead of getting annoyed at her, though, he let his thoughts shift back to you, and he was clicking on your contact before he even realized it.

Would it be too weird to tell you that I thought about you all night? 

Morning, by the way. 

He figured he had nothing to lose, and if you were weirded out by what he said, then it was a good thing you and he had only hung out twice, so he wouldn’t be giving up too much. 

But he should know by now that you two fit each other concerningly well, and how you weren’t one to be scared away by his forwardness. 

Y/n: No way, I thought about you, too. 

Y/n: Morning, btw.

Bradley felt a dumb grin form on his lips as he checked the time, seeing that it was nearing ten in the morning. He got up and lazily threw his sheets over his bed in a half-assed effort of making it, using his free hand to text you back. 

So we’re both thinking about each other. Any suggestions on where to go from here?

He dressed himself in dark jeans and a flannel before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and making his way across campus to his class, and when he found an empty seat and sat down, the text he received from you left him smiling for the most part of the two hour class. 

Y/n: Round three?

-

Bradley suggested a movie night at his place since his roommates won’t be home, and you were a bit nervous to go back there since you would be completely alone with him this time and not wedged between him and a wall like you were at the party. 

You were also excited, because hanging out with him had been the most fun you’ve had since attending university, and you were in your second year now. 

He didn’t need to know that, though.

You tuned out for most of your classes, and when you changed into a pair of sweats and a cropped tee, your phone went off. Thinking it was Bradley, you pick it up with a smile that immediately drops when you read the caller ID.

Luke.

Of course it was him. 

Even though you were actively ignoring him, he still wasn’t getting the hint that the relationship was over. You knew you needed to send him a final text and set things straight, because you were ready to move on, and he was making it harder than it should be. 

Please stop texting me. We’re done, Luke. I will always be grateful for you and our time together, but it’s time we both move on. I wish you the best. 

That sounded nice, right? You hoped so, anyway. You didn’t want to hurt Luke; you simply wanted him to get the message and stop contacting you until you were both over each other. Maybe you could be friends later down the road, but that was a hard maybe. You were never friends with Luke, you went from strangers pretty much right to dating. 

You wanted to take your time with your next relationship, whether that was with Bradley or not. Though, you couldn’t be blamed for hoping that he is your next.

With no further communication with Luke, you pocket your phone and start the walk across the reasonably big campus and towards Bradley’s frat house, and you smirk at the reminder of why you set his contact name as Fratley. 

You reach the front steps and knock on the door, second guessing your choice of outfit and wondering if it was too casual, but what else were you supposed to wear for a movie night? Comfy casual? Or uncomfortable non-casual? 

When Bradley opened the door in a similar outfit, you felt better about yours, and the not so subtle way he looked you up and down definitely had your worries disappearing and your face heating up. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” he said back and opened the door a bit further. “Took you long enough, I’ve been cleaning for the last hour and a half.”

You cover your mouth with a quiet laugh and step into the house. “You mean this place doesn’t look like the aftermath of a party all the time?”

Bradley playfully scoffed. “Do you think I enjoy living in that filth? I hibernate in my room half the time to avoid seeing what new mess the guys made,”

You laugh again and follow him into the living room. It looked a lot bigger than the last time you saw it, without all the people, and it was actually quite nice. “Well, I’m not sure how long you spent cleaning in here, but…” You turn to smirk at him, finding him already looking at you. “Good job.”

He holds his arms out and leans down in a bow. “Thank you,” he returned your smirk. “Did it all for you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was thinking about you.”

You blush and look away before he could see the affect his words have on you. “It’s nice to see this place not crowded,” you change the subject and move to sit on the couch. “I can’t believe we met at a party here.”

Bradley stays where he is, the smirk still painted on his lips as he crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, if I had known this was going to happen, I would have agreed to that party a lot sooner,”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re full of it,”

He laughs and gestures to the doorway that leads to the kitchen. “You pick the movie and I’ll grab the snacks. Are you feeling like soda or something stronger?”

You debate it for a few seconds and come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be drunk this time around, but one drink wouldn’t hurt. “How about one beer and one soda?” You suggest and he nods with a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Your face was still a bit hot as you sat by yourself, and you knew you needed to get a grip. Bradley was just another guy; a cute, funny and confident guy. 

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Bradley still hadn’t come back when your phone went off, and when you saw that it was Sam calling you, you declined it and opened your text thread with her to let her know that you were busy at the moment. Then she beat you to it.

Sammy: YOU BROKE UP WITH LUKE????

Your heart dropped a bit, though you’re not sure why. You didn’t just break up with Luke, the break up happened months ago, and Sam knows this. 

Sammy: Y/n what the fuck

Sammy: You guys were supposed to work it out.

You scoff and type out a response, and you were a bit annoyed that Luke went running to his sister and your fucking roommate instead of moving on and letting things go like an adult would. 

We broke up months ago, Sam. That’s not new news. I’m busy right now, so I can’t talk about this. And I don’t want to. I’ll see you at home later.

You lock your phone just as Bradley returns with three cans in one hand, and another can and a bowl of chips in the other. You were a bit impressed as you reached up to take the three cans from him with a laugh. “Wow, no need to show off,” you joked and he shook his head with a smile as he set the bowl down onto the coffee table. 

“I don’t like making more than one trip,” he replied and you hum in agreement as you take a chip and watch as he sits next to you. He left very little room in between you, but you didn’t care a bit. This close proximity allowed you to inhale the piney scent of his cologne and see every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.

Oh yeah. You were seriously fucked. 

-

Bradley’s plans of getting Bri back had been completely pushed to the back of his mind, and it’s been that way since he met you. 

The more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t miss her as much as he did that morning she broke up with him. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts of you, and that scared him a bit for a few reasons. 

One; he met you only a few days ago and has spent more time with you than he has with the majority of his friends.

Two; he was supposed to be focusing on trying to fix things with Bri but wasn’t putting much effort at all into that task at the moment as he sits literally right next to you on the couch. 

And three; Eli and Wes might start to believe he’s actually going through with the stupid bet.

Which wasn’t what was happening at all. Yeah, you were the girl he drunkenly and stupidly picked when he came up with the bet, but he was hanging out with you because he wanted to. Not because he was planning on getting money out of it. 

“Did you pick a movie?” He asked as you leaned back on the couch and opened your beer, and he couldn’t deny that he found the way you liked his favorite type of beer attractive. You were really attractive, there was no questioning that. 

You freeze for a couple seconds before giving him a shy smile. “I did not,”

He laughed and grabbed the remote from off the coffee table and leaned back as well. “Well, pick something,” he said and handed you the remote. 

“Why me?” You pout and flip through the possible options of movies. “I don’t know what kind of movies you like.”

“I’ll watch anything,” he shrugged and opened his beer, hoping the cold liquid would help ease his heated body. He had no idea why he reacted to you like this, but he felt like an out of control teen all over again for the second time this week. 

You huff and skim through a few more comedies before settling on a horror movie from the 90s, and Bradley lifted a brow at your choice. “What?” You asked as you tossed the remote onto the cushion beside you and crossed your legs. 

“Nothing,” he answered, nonchalantly draping his arm across the back of the couch. “I just didn’t take you as a scary movie girl.”

You scoff and glance up at him. “The scarier the better,” you say back and he swore you moved a little closer to him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who can watch a horror film then sleep peacefully right after,” he challenged, daring to move his leg just an inch closer to yours. 

You shrugged and gave him that unbelievably sexy smirk he loved seeing. “Like a baby,” 

He refrained from asking you to marry him right then and there, and instead he shifted his attention to the TV mounted on the wall and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “You’re crazy,” he uttered as he kept his eyes on the screen.

You laugh quietly and sip on your beer as the movie begins. 

Bradley had no idea when the small gap between his body and yours became non-existent, but as he held you against his side with his arm around your shoulders and your beers discarded, he didn’t care to know. 

You were warm, and it might’ve been from the blanket he threw over the both of you, but he liked to think it was because you were feeling the same way he was. 

Your body fits damn near perfectly with his, your height difference making it easy for him to hold you like this without his arm cramping up. 

About an hour into the movie you had fallen asleep, your head pressed against his chest and your arm draped over his lap. You had shifted like that in your sleep, and he borderline loved the way your body reacted to his, even while you were sleeping. He turned the sound down a bit until he could barely hear it, but he didn’t mind the fact that he had to really strain to be able to understand what was happening.

Bradley felt himself falling asleep, too, when your phone lit up from its place on the coffee table. He didn’t mean to, but his gaze naturally shifted to the lit up screen and he accidentally ended up reading the text you received. 

Luke: What a fucking waste of time, huh? We get into one fight and you just decide to check out? Fuck you, Y/n. Don’t talk to me ever again. 

Bradley could only assume that Luke is your lovely ass of an ex boyfriend, and he felt his brows furrowing as a warmth settled over his face.

Who the fuck did this guy think he is? No wonder you broke up with him.

Bradley never talked to Bri like that, or really anyone for that matter, let alone someone he loved. Luke loved you? As if.

He wanted to grab your phone and call the fucker, but you shifted again and drew his attention away from your bad choice of a boyfriend. You pulled the blanket up further and nuzzled your face against the side of his neck, and he felt himself calming down a bit as your quiet and even breathing met his ears. 

You were so sweet, how could anyone ever talk to you like that? 

Without meaning to, Bradley fell asleep with his chin resting on the top of your head, and the next morning he had a pain in his neck so fucking bad, he nearly got up to take enough painkillers to knock him back out again so he could sleep it off. 

Then he glanced down at you, still asleep on his chest, and he thought that maybe it was worth it since he got to wake up to the pretty sight. 

The TV had turned off automatically during the night, leaving the living room dark as he had closed the curtains before you got here yesterday. He grabbed his phone and squinted at the brightness as he checked the time. It was almost nine in the morning, and he knew he needed to get ready for his class that was in about an hour, but he really did not want this little moment with you to end just yet. 

Reluctantly, he gently began shaking your shoulder after a few more minutes had passed. “Y/n,” he quietly said, watching as you began to stir. “Wake up, babes.” 

He didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out, but the way you slowly sat up and grinned over at him made him want to call you that all the time. “Morning, babes,” you greet in a hoarse voice, reaching up to rub at your eyes as the blanket falls from your shoulders. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,”

You gasped, “In the morning?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed and began massaging his neck, trying to work out the kink he felt. 

“Shit,” you mutter and grab your phone, making Bradley remember the rude text you got from Luke. He hated the fact that he knew what you would be reading the next time you checked your phone, and he wished he could’ve done something about it but knew it wasn’t his place. He’d let you tell him more about your ex if you wanted to, and he’d keep his opinions to himself for now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep and stay over.”

“It’s okay,” he waved you off and slumped back against the couch again. “You must’ve needed it. You slept for quite a while.”

You blush and smooth out your hair. “I should get going, I have class soon,”

Bradley nodded and watched as you stood up. “Do you want a ride back to your place? I’m going that way anyway,” he offered. “I need coffee.”

You laugh and look down at your casual outfit, which was strangely sexy to him. “You know, usually I’d turn down a three minute drive and just walk, but I don’t really want to be seen in this so early in the morning, so yeah,” you answer and pull the blanket off him, folding it and setting it aside. 

He huffed out a laugh and stood up as well. “Let’s go then,” he said and began walking with you to the front door. “You look hot, by the way. You shouldn’t care what people see you in.”

You blush again and glance back into the living room, seeing the scattered beer and soda cans. “I can help clean up first,”

“No, it’s alright,” he grunted and grabbed his keys from off the table near the door. “I’ll do it later. I don’t ever make a mess, so the guys won’t get pissed at me for leaving it like that.”

Nodding, you step outside when he opens the door and walk out to the Jeep. Once you are inside, you turn to him with a small smile. “I keep saying this, but I had fun last night,” you say quietly as he reversed out of the driveway. “I know I fell asleep pretty early on, but still.”

Bradley laughed and put the car in drive. “I had fun, too,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘falling asleep after horror movies’ thing, huh?”

You covered your mouth as you laughed, too, and Bradley wondered why you often did that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Nope,”

The drive was a short one, and two minutes later he was pulling up to your dorm and regretting not offering to walk with you instead of driving as it would’ve given him a few extra minutes with you. 

He put the car in park then turned to you, meeting your eye as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say in a teasing tone. 

Bradley laughed quietly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek like you did with him after dinner at Five Guys, and when he pulled away he saw that a pretty blush had taken over your face again. “No problem,” 

You smile again and hop out of the car, getting to the third step and hesitating for a few seconds before you turn around and make your way to the driver’s side door. You pull it open and grab a fistful of his shirt, guiding him into a kiss he was all too willing to accept. It didn’t last long, unfortunately, but it still left the both of you wearing dumb smiles when you pulled away. “I’ll see you later?” You whisper and he nods, reaching up to gently tug on your bottom lip before your smile grows and you step away, closing the door afterwards. 

You give him a small wave before disappearing into the dorm and leaving Bradley with a heat deep in his body. He had to force himself to drive to the coffee shop a few minutes away, and then back home once he got his fix. 

When he entered the house, he saw Eli sitting on the couch with a smirk on his face. “Fun night?” He asked as he nodded towards the cans and empty bowl. “Was it Bri?”

Bradley scoffed as he put his coffee cup down and began gathering up the cans. “No,” he answered and put the cans into the bowl. “Y/n.”

Eli’s smirk grew at that and Bradley instantly regretted telling him about you. “Ah, Y/n,” he laughed. “You really want that money, huh?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes. “No, actually, I don’t,” he replied and grabbed his coffee again. “I don’t want your stupid money, okay? I like Y/n, really. She’s nice and so not the person I thought she was.”

Eli just nodded but was still wearing that stupid smirk as he looked back down at his phone, and it made Bradley feel a bit uneasy. 

“I’m not kidding,” he warned. “Let it go.”

Eli raised his hands in surrender. “I’m chilling, man,” he muttered but Bradley knew better. 

But he refused to waste his time trying to get his friend to understand him when he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. So he just left him there and brought the bowl to the kitchen before getting ready for class, still thinking about the kiss he shared with you that he wished was so much longer. 

He already couldn’t stop thinking about the peck you gave him on the cheek, but now he had gotten a taste of the real thing, and he was so close to throwing out every promise he made to himself about bettering himself for Bri and giving all his time to you.

[stellamancer]

considerate (reader x satoru gojo)

notes: blah blah blah comfort fic. lmaoo. um, i love steamed buns. i bought some frozen pizza buns from my local japanese grocery store during the writing process. they are indeed good. if you have never had them i hope you get to try one day.

contains: f!reader (inferred to be wearing lingerie), tsundere-ish reader, eating food, gojo. part of the infinite loop fic verse

wc: 2k || read on ao3 (account required)

All you want to do is sleep.

It’s been a rough week— three difficult missions back to back with no time to rest in between. By the time you’d finished the last one, you were practically dead on your feet. It’s times like these that you’re glad for the room you have on the campus of Jujutsu High; you think you’ll collapse before you can make it back to your actual apartment.

In fact, you almost do anyway– you’re barely through the door of your room when the exhaustion tries to take you by force. It takes every fiber of your being to at least shed your curse-stained clothes before you become one with the bed.

Your sleep is blissfully empty.

And it ends far too soon.

A loud series of knocks forces you from your slumber. You groan and pull the pillow over your head as if it’ll make the sound stop, but it doesn’t. After a few minutes of constant, incessant banging, you finally give up and crawl out of bed.

There’s only one person you know who would relentlessly pound someone’s door and when you throw your door open you find him— Satoru Gojo on the other side. He’s dressed casually, comfortably in sweats and a hoodie, for a day off, sporting tinted glasses instead of that blindfold he likes so much.

“What?” you demand.

Gojo peers at you over the top of his glasses, lips twitching as if he’s trying not to smile. “You need a minute?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

The smile finally makes its way onto his face and you can’t help but feel annoyed. Gojo points at you with a long, slender finger and says. “Matching set, huh?”

It’s then that you realize that you are only wearing your underwear.

Embarrassment surges through your body. You had forgotten that you hadn’t bothered changing into any sort of sleepwear— you’d only taken off your dirty clothes. Mortified, you slam the door in Gojo’s face.

If thoughts could kill, one of you would be dead on the floor right now; you haven’t quite decided who yet.

You shuffle around your room and throw on the first set of comfortable clothes you can find. Just as you’re fitting your head through the sweatshirt you hear him knock again.

“I’m still out here!” he hollers.

“Get lost!” you snap.

“But I brought food!” he whines. “I brought steamed buns!”

His words make you pause. When was the last time you ate? Yesterday morning? You don’t feel particularly hungry, but that could be because you just woke up.

“They’re getting cold!”

You weigh your options. Accepting food from Gojo is far from the worst thing in the world. It also saves you the effort of going to find something; it’s your day off, and the less you have to move the better.

With a heavy sigh, you finish dressing before opening the door again. The second Gojo comes into view, he beams at you and holds up a plastic bag from FamilyMart. You reach for it, but he raises it up, keeping it out of your grasp.

“Now, now,” he tuts as if he is reprimanding an overeager child. “I was thinking we could share. There’s way too many for one person, don’t you think?”

You don’t know how many steamed buns are in there, but you’ve seen Gojo eat: you know he could polish off that whole bag. Honestly, you probably could too. “Wanna bet?”

Gojo grins. “Sure. If you can’t finish them all then you have to spend the entire day with me.”

Not the way you’d want to spend your day off. “And if I can?”

“Then you get to have all the steamed buns I bought!” he says cheerfully. “Awesome prize, right?”

You scowl. “No, that's a shit prize and you know it.”

“Okay then, what kind of prize would you prefer?” There’s something ominous about the way Gojo’s looking at you right now; he’s smiling but you feel almost as if you’re looking at some sort of feral predator. Letting you choose your own prize sounds like some sort of trap and you wouldn't put it past him to twist whatever you choose to suit his own agenda.

“...can I think about it while I eat?” you ask.

“Sure.” Gojo shoots you a knowing smile, fully aware of the fact that you're just trying to buy time to figure out how to get out of whatever he's scheming. He hands you the bag of steamed buns and pushes past you into your room, settling himself against the wall opposite your bed.

You peer into the shopping bag and even though he said he’d brought steamed buns there’s other stuff in the bag. Some other miscellaneous snacks, candy and a few bottles of water and Gojo’s favorite brand of cola. A little excessive, but then again, everything about Gojo is excessive. You fish out the paper bag holding your food and hand the rest to Gojo before plopping back onto your bed. Knowing who bought them, you expect to find only red bean buns and custard buns in the paper bag; after all, his sweet tooth knows no bounds. But, to your surprise, there’s actually a bit of variety. You recognize the smooth tops of what are either red bean buns or custard buns, but also the crimped tops of what are likely pork buns as well as…

“Pizza buns…?” you mutter quietly, fishing one from the bag. Similar to the pork buns, they have a crimped top, but instead of a pale off white of a regular pork bun, the bread is a pale orange color.

Gojo chuckles and you look up at him. There's a cocky grin plastered to his face. “They are your favorite, aren't they?”

You gawk at him, heartbeat stuttering a little in your chest. He’s right; they are your favorite, but you’ve only ever mentioned it a handful of times.

It’s… surprising that he even remembered.

Gojo always manages to catch you off-guard when he remembers the little things like this. It really shouldn’t surprise you; he’s the same way with his students, and yet…

Your heart skips yet another set of beats.

“Did you finally fall in love with me?” he asks, sounding infinitely amused.

His question reminds you that, surprisingly thoughtful or not, Satoru Gojo still remains to be the most annoying man in existence. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, if you say so…” His tone makes it clear that he doesn't believe you and you know better than to try and convince him otherwise; Gojo can be as delusional as he wants. “Better eat up before they get all sad and cold!”

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumble. “Thanks again.”

You shove the pizza bun in your mouth. It's the perfect temperature: hot but not enough to scald your tongue. You finish it in a few bites and grab another. From the looks of it, there's probably a little over a dozen steamed buns in the bag. You think that's doable as you polish off your second bun (a juicy pork bun).

As you start to eat the third (a cheese curry bun), you notice Gojo staring at you over the top of his glasses. His eyes, unnaturally bright and blue as always bore into you; and something about his gaze is almost expectant, waiting— for what you don’t really know. It’s kind of weird, honestly, you would have expected him to play with his phone or whatever, not just… watch you eat. Without averting your gaze, you slowly take a bite into the steamed bun.

Gojo continues to watch you.

Creepy.

You keep staring back at him as you finish the third bun and you don’t break eye contact as you reach in for another one. Gojo continues to watch you, his expression focused. You’re starting to get a little unnerved now. It doesn’t even seem like he’s blinking. You shift a little to the left and his eyes follow the movement.

Halfway through the fourth bun (a custard bun), you decide to finally say something. “Do you have to stare?”

Gojo snickers, mischievous. That never means anything good. “Yeah? I mean, I have to make sure you eat them all, don’t I?”

“...do you think I’m going to shove them in my shirt and hide them or something?”

For a split second, his expression falters, the briefest look of shock crossing his features before he snorts. “You’re welcome to try, but it’s an automatic loss if you do!”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. No way that you’re going to waste perfectly good steamed buns. That just means you’ll have to ignore Gojo’s incessant starting.

Which turns out to be easier said than done.

After your fifth bun, you’re starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Almost like you’re an animal in a zoo. Not only that, but you’ve noticed that Gojo’s been slowly moving closer. He started over against the wall, but now he’s practically at your feet, staring up at you. HIs pupils are blown wide and it’s almost like he’s staring into your soul.

You stop eating.

You wait for Gojo to say something, some smartass remark or tease you about being full or something.

He says nothing.

Gojo only continues to stare at you, silent as his eyes look impossibly bigger. It doesn’t just look like he’s begging for one of the steamed buns, but for something else. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears as you try to figure out what it could possibly be. With each second, the thumping grows louder and louder and Gojo seems to be moving closer and closer despite being still firmly planted to the ground.

Is it you that’s inching toward him now?

The realization startles you. Why would you even—? Panicked, you reach into the bag and pull out a bun at random and shove it in Gojo’s face. He makes a surprised sound but it’s muffled by the bun.

“Just take one already!” you exclaim, pressing it to his mouth as hard as you can without smashing it to pieces. It occurs to you that he might gloat about you feeding him by hand but you’ll deal with that later. You need to get him to stop looking at you like that now.

He laughs, triumphant as he removes the bun from your grasp and takes a big, big bite out of it. “Looks like I win. As usual.”

You merely grumble, watching as he polishes off the steamed bun in no time flat. He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers and you hand him another. It’s fine. Just because you can finish all these steamed buns doesn’t mean that you should.

As for having to spend the entire day with Gojo… You try to look on the bright side and tell yourself that there are worse fates out there. After all, you could be working.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Gojo asks mid-bite.

“I don’t really wanna do much of anything,” you grouse. You suppose it’s nice of Gojo to ask, when you know the reality is that you’ll be at the mercy of his whims for the rest of the day. Mentally, you brace yourself to be dragged around Tokyo, shopping or whatever it is he likes to do on his time off.

Gojo chuckles softly and the sound of it makes your stomach drop. You don’t like it. Something about it is dangerous. “Okay, let’s just stay here then, play a video game or something.”

You can’t help but stare at him. Then you think of the snacks and drinks he brought along and the fact that he’s dressed more for lounging than going out. You wouldn’t put it past Gojo to intend to occupy your entire day, but could it be that he planned to just hang out in your room the entire time? Playing video games or watching movies because he figured you wouldn’t have the energy to go anywhere.

No.

There’s no way that the most selfish and annoying man you know is that considerate.

Gojo tilts his head to the side and offers you a gentle smile, eyes glimmering behind his glasses. You swallow thickly, nervously, ignoring the odd feeling in your chest. There’s just no way.

No way at all.

after many hours of playing video games with gojo you muster the energy to tell him you want to go out to eat. he pays. it's not a date (it's so totally a date).

[drakulana]

when you're sick // law x gn! reader drabble

⚝ summary: you get sick and law takes care of you, gn! reader

⚝ content: sick reader, no pronouns, no y/n, law takes care of you, very short and sweet!

⚝ wc: 855

⚝ a/n: i've been sick so this is just something a little fun i wrote. i hope you enjoy!!

✩࿐

you never really took getting sick seriously. it didn’t happen often, and when it did, it usually passed within a couple days. it started out as the sniffles. you thought it was just a cold, so you went and got some cold medicine from the infirmary. it wasn’t something you thought was worth telling your captain. you made it through the day completing all your tasks without any problem, thankful to fall into bed that night. the next morning, you woke up with a raging headache. it was undoubtedly from all the sinus pressure that had set in while you were asleep. you were hoping to sleep off the sickness, but instead it presented a new symptom. the headache. still, you didn’t tell your captain. there was no reason to bother him about a headache when you could just go into the infirmary and get some more medicine. so that’s what you did. you took the same cold medicine as yesterday, and took some with you for later on in the day. as the day went on, you could feel your symptoms growing worse. the stuffy nose turned into constant sneezing. the drainage turned into a bit of a nasty cough, and the sinus pressure turned into puffy watery eyes. for a second, going to see your captain crossed your mind, but it was so late now. so you went to bed, hoping to sleep off whatever ailment you had caught, once again.

you woke up in a cold sweat. your bedsheets and blankets stuck to you, and chills had overtaken your body. your body ached. the dim light pouring in from under the door hurt to even look at. your head felt like it had been split open. the sounds of your crewmates chattering and walking up and down the corridors getting ready to work was amplified, and was not aiding your headache in the slightest. it was time to get up. it was time to go to work, but you seemed to be almost bed ridden. you cursed yourself. you knew as soon as your captain noticed you weren't present he would come looking for you. he was not going to be happy that you failed to tell him that you were sick. until then, you decided that you were going to get some rest. you closed your eyes, and let the darkness consume you.

you spent the next hour in and out of sleep. no matter what position you were in, everything hurt. you could hear footsteps approaching your room. a knock sounded on the metal door, making you groan a weak come in, at whoever was at the door. you knew who was at the door before they even knocked. it was law.

the harsh white light from the hallway spilled into your room, making you shield your eyes. the light was blinding, and just as you thought it couldn't get worse, law flicked on the light switch in the room. "please turn the light off," you croaked out at your captain to which he complied, mumbling a soft apology. he walked over to your bed, looking down at your sick figure. "why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he tutted, reaching down to feel your forehead. he sucked in a breath at the feeling of your burning skin. his hands were cold, and you leaned into the soothing touch. "you have a fever," he stated the obvious. he removed his hand from your head and let out a sigh before turning on his heel and leaving, wordlessly. shutting the door behind him, the darkness of the room brought relief to the pounding in your head. however, it didn't last long. a few minutes later your captain was back. he had a wet washcloth in hand, a thermometer, some medicine, and some water in hand. he pulled up a chair next to your bed, laying the cool washcloth across your head. the coolness soothed the pounding just enough for you to be able to relax a bit. "open," law commanded you, and you complied, opening your mouth. "under your tongue," he commanded once again, as he put the thermometer in your mouth. you sat there with the thermometer in your mouth for a minute before law checked it, "102 degrees. you really should have come and gotten me whenever you first started feeling sick. we could have avoided this," he lectured. a quiet, i'm sorry, left your raw throat. law looked down at you, pitifully. "drink this water, and take these," law opened the water bottle, and poured two pills into his palm. he helped you sit up, his cool hands resting on your back. his touch almost relieved the aching in your back, rubbing light circles as you took the medicine. law helped you lay back down, fixing the blankets around you. "now rest," he told you as he reached over to the bookshelf across from the bed and grabbed a book, "i'll be here if you need anything," he told you. having no energy to protest, you closed your eyes and let the black consume your aching body.

✩࿐

@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

Taglist: @shuujin , @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa, @tokaio, @augustanna, @sukilovesyou, @mschoiyuki, @songinabottle , @starlightanyaaa, @elen-alambil, @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

[khristie16]

The fast and forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 4 Both are conflicted after their intimate experience. What Charles’s jealousy makes him act in a way is wasn't recognized even from his friends

warnings: 18+, masturbating, jealousy, angst

.........................................................................

That night was wild. As i went back to my room I felt embarrassment linger on my insides and I pushed my back to the right apartment door as I shut them behind me as if that would stop me from being hunted just by what happened. It never ever crossed my mind that literally my boss would have seen me naked under any circumstances. The cold shower did not help me from overthinking practically anything, it felt like I’m not even in control of my thoughts. I groaned in displeasure and went to my bedroom. Staying quiet to perhaps hear something from his room and cursing myself for even doing that after what has happened. Getting in my bed didn’t quite help me, it made my feelings for Charles even worse.

The next day I wake up with sweat covering my body, I hold my chest as if something has convinced me this body is no longer mine because it wasn’t when was Charles touching me. His fingers laced on my hot skin and my legs trembling as if he is the owner of my body and my body is no longer mine. His sinful eyes full of uncertainty of what’s to come and I believe I’m going to shatter right at the spot I was sitting on my bed here in a hotel. His touch was getting lost in my soft skin, and I swear I felt something inside of me, something that was growing and when I looked down it was him, entering me again and again until I screamed and woke up from this dream.

I thought I’m going to be sick. This is a lot to take, and I cannot function like that on daily basis. If there is one thing that I’d love, is to be able leave this dream pass but it feels like I took the most out of the dream. And I seem to cannot go back.

A sound coming from my phone startled me till I jumped on the seat still covered in sheets. I stand up with a hold of breath to look of who is it. Part of me was scared it might be Charles and I would have to approach him. But instead, a little disappointment filled my body when I saw the guy from yesterday has messaged me. What was his name again? Ah yes, Patrick.

His comforting questions about my well being made me pause for a sec and made my body to relax. But it was soon replaced with anxiety. What am I supposed to do with this man now? I cannot shake the feeling of the..., dream, perhaps nightmare, I cannot say. I still have the perfect image of Charles on top of me doing all of those…. In and out movements. It makes me sick, and ashamed. God damn, I shouldn’t be dreaming about such things. But I shouldn’t be hard on myself that much, it’s enough that Charles was hard on me…literally.

I shake my head to somewhat shake the thought off and I finally saw clearly the words typed down on my phone again.

Hey! Yeah, I slept well.

I toss the phone on the couch again and make my way to a bathroom. In the mirror reflection I see flushed cheeks and dirty hair. How can someone have passionate sex and look good meanwhile? It was just a dream and yet I look like if I had truly experienced that. Maybe it is because it felt like that.

Charles’s POV

Charles couldn’t sleep immediately after YN has left. He didn’t understand why he was wide awake, but he caught himself afterwards he is still going back to the image of YN being naked in front of him in his bedroom. It made him feel some shivers running down his spine and he couldn’t judge if it is good or not. All his awareness was filled with her and after staring blanky on the ceiling he gave up on sleeping and went to bathroom to jerk himself off. He tried hard to not make it obvious to him that he had a certain image in front of his eyes in his mind, but he couldn’t hide it that well. He knew this delusional act and pretending wouldn’t last long. So, as he fell to his bed again, he felt a sudden emptiness in his body, and he fell asleep with the last thought of YN in the blank space he fell in his stomach.

Charles now has found himself in a cafeteria lobby with his friend Joris. As they were casually talking about tonight’s upcoming night out, he finally felt good about being able to think just about anything else but her. But it didn’t stay that long. As if Joris knew since the beginning there is something of with Charles related to YN, he took a good look at Charles before speaking up. Joris knew Charles has changed and that is why he even offered for a personal assistant position to take place, but his cold demeanor to her was something everyone saw. Either if it was Carla or Andrea. Everyone saw through him that it was a weird thing to watch at. And as so for Joris as one of his best friends, he wanted to push Charles to his limits.

‘I saw YN yesterday.’

Charles stuck a little in his movement before trying to smooth his behavior to a more relaxed one. Good for Joris he has and excellent eye for a detail and it didn’t run from his attention.

‘Okay. So what?’

Joris chuckled rather quietly and liked this game already. Pushing your best friend about a topic his friend is clearly passionate about was something thrilling. To be honest, there is a very fine line between passion and hate. And with hate there comes anger or resentment.

‘She was with a man. A fine man, luxurious car and stuff’

Charles stuck in his movement again but swiftly get back to his previous position. Now the chuckle left Joris’s lips. He was met with a furious gaze from his best friend as he asked.

‘What?!’

Joris laughed and tried so hard to hide it but failed. He put his fist in front of his mouth to mask it with a cough, but his eyes couldn’t lie.

‘Nothing, just nothing’

Charles didn’t like what was Joris doing. He is not dumb, he knew. But he wasn’t mad at Joris, he was frustrated with himself.

‘Well, she can do whatever she wants.’

Joris eyes went high on his forehead as he couldn’t believe Charles let himself be this obvious.

‘Something happened Charles?’

An awkward silence filled the space as a waitress approached their table to refill their drinks. Both acted as if nothing happened and Joris was getting curious if there was something more in this situation between those two. As the waiter left their table Joris made it clear what his intentions are with a loud cough and gesturing for Charles to talk.

Charles refused to give in and acted like a little bitch.

‘Nothing happened!’

He reached for his refilled drink just to spill it on his jeans and grunted in pure discomfort. Not just about jeans, but about his best friend pushing him. He took his mobile phone and went upstairs, leaving Joris in awe.

During the day Charles focused on trainings and both acted like the other didn’t exist. But as much as Charles has tried to forget about what is happening inside of him, the more he lingered back in thoughts to her.

YN POV

It made me sad to be in such a position. The last thing I thought was that Charles would be acting so cold towards me. On one side I get it that it’s for the best, because of what had happened, but I remember fondly his remark from the evening. What a shame you’re leaving. I really don’t know what to make out of that. It looked like he was toying with me. And I don’t like that. But at the same time, I am the ‘victim in here’. I was put in a vulnerable position and even though Charles has nothing to do with how badly I took this experience, he didn’t have to be so cold towards me. Not more then before. I wasn’t well aware why I feel this way, but I definitely didn’t like it. That is why I shift my focus on Patrick. I deducted since Charles is completely ignoring me, I will be free tonight, as the same as yesterday, what won’t be the same is my naïve brain leading me to his apartment.

I’ll pick you up at seven;)

As I was preparing the beautiful dress for tonight’s event with Patrick, I added some light blush on my cheeks that matched with my red lipstick going well with long gown dress, perfect for a night out in a luxurious restaurant with a handsome man. For the first time this day, I smiled softly to myself and put on high heels. With all the pain conflicting inside of me I forgot the pain of wearing heals. At least I gained something from this fiasco with Charles. Or whatever it is.

I reach for the door to head out and with the swift of air brushing my hair I see Charles with his fist in the eye level to knock, I suppose. I stay still and watch him in confusion.

‘Hi’

He made an awkward presence with his greeting; this was another level of confusion. How can one act to cold and then when they open their mouth, they sound like a lost tad?

‘You’re heading somewhere?’

I stopped the thinking cycle happening again in my head and composure well.

‘Well… yes? I was planning to head out, I assumed you don’t need me today.’

He titled his head and furrowed his eyebrows as If I had said the dumbest thing ever. I scoff internally.

‘And why did you assume that?’

That’s where he got me. I didn’t ask, He didn’t tell me. I was naïve again to think that. Or more of so it was his fault he did not say a thing. But I am under him and If I want to pursue my dreams, I need to have this job. At least to keep it for a month or two.

‘I’m sorry, I interpreted the message wrong. You need me for today’s evening I suppose?’

He just nodded and start with his eyes looking at me closely from head to toe. It was hot suddenly. *gulp*

‘I see you are ready already. Let me change and we can go,’

‘Where?’

He gave me a wink and left me speechless on the mid way from my room to the corridor. I was getting more and more mad at him. I gritted through my teeth and went inside to sit down and write a message to Patrick. I was sad at one point that I’m going to miss on this date.

Hey Patrick, I’m sorry, but work came into my plan for this evening. I would love to dismiss such obligation, but I cannot unfortunately:( xoxo.

Left with my thoughts, Charles opened his door and came out in full tux. He looked hot. And my mouth agreed since I had to fight it hard to not gape. Put yourself together.

‘Let’s go’

That’s all he said and there was just silence between us. I didn’t know where he is taking me, but I really didn't have much of a choice so instead I stayed silent till the full ride to the destination.

Another boring event. A lot of people, too many champagnes and too much obnoxious talk. Or am I just hateful? I couldn’t care less right now. All I wanted to be spared of this, but I guess I have some job to do here as Charles’s personal assistant, which I couldn’t quite put the finger on the reason for bringing me here.

As we stayed by side and observing what’s happening around us, some old man approached us. The next thing boiled my blood. Charles’s hand landed on my waist on the back and pushed me closer to him, just a little but it was known to me. I was too lost in confusion to say anything about it, plus I didn’t want to make a scene. Not because of Charles, but because of me. I prefer peace rather than conflicts. So, I obeyed and acted however I was supposed to do in this moment. It is not like anyone expected me to talk so I wandered around the room to see a familiar face. Patrick.

My eyes almost fell out and the anxiety that numbed my limbs was almost too much to bear. Patrick was clearly confused and did not understand. I started shaking my head as a try to tell him it is not what it looks like. He stayed looking at me but then took his focus on Charles. He eyed him up and down. I don’t’ know what I wanted in that moment, but I was clearly just stuck. My mind and my body.

‘Hey YN’

I turn my head around to see Joris. The anxiety level rose high, and I scarred looked on Patrick again, but he was fortunately not looking at my direction now.

‘Are you alright?’

I turned again to talk to Joris. Charles was aware Joris came in and he left the embrace on my back. I took this opportunity to escape to Joris instead.

‘Hi, sorry. I’m just overwhelmed.’

His eyes went straight to my back, looking straight through my middle and right back up.

‘I can see that.’

I shook my head and excused myself to go to the lady’s room.

*inhale* *exhale* again and again

Did it help? Temporarily. I escaped now but I cannot keep running from myself. I should have said something before. In the car on our way here. I should have said more to Patrick so this situation wouldn’t escalate to something bigger than it is. But what I know? I don’t know what Patrick thinks.

‘Whatever’

I got fed up with the same second and opened the doors to walk back, yet again, the same pair of green eyes hunting me everywhere.

‘What happened YN?’

At this moment I was feeling sorry for Charles. Because I was furious. And I raised my voice. At my boss.

‘What happened? You are asking me?’ I scoffed so hard it was visible for anyone to know how furious I am, ‘You’re the one who should be answering that question! What was that about huh? The touching? Holding my waist?’

Charles’s eyes showed conflict and fear as he didn’t know how to react. This was the first time I saw him not knowing what to do or say, his confidence far away from him now.

‘I- ‘

‘WHAT’

He shut his mouth immediately and looked mad. I exhaled and let my shoulders to fall to relax.

‘I’m sorry for raising my voice at you.’

Charles was still silent, but no in his mind. There was clearly something happening. He opened his mouth but shut it again.

‘YN?’

We both turned our gaze to the right to see Patrick. In the field of my eyes, I saw Charles’s composure to stiffen, and his face hardened.

‘And you are doing what exactly?’

A visible mockery in his voice lingered its way to Patrick who stopped walking towards me, confusion transformed to disgust and took a defensive composure.

God help me.

[bowandcurtsey]

hihi! posting this another time because anony slid into my dms with verification :3 Thank you for that and thank you for the loooong wait! I've been busy in irl stuff like dealing with house reno shits. sigh.

Also this request came from HERE. And also, Nozel is already in there so we'll do Fuego and some other characters that I wanted to try, hehehe

Characters: Black Clover : Fuegoleon | Zora x f! reader Haikyuu: Ushijima | Kageyama (post time skip) x f! reader tw: nsfw-ish, minors dni. Unchecked works. I'll try not to describe too much of body size but reader is in a body size that can fit into the men's clothes.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

The sun was already high up in the skies, a rare occurrence for Fue to still be in bed. But it was his day off and he was happy to snuggle in bed with his beloved, you.

He reached out his arm to pull you closer, taking in the scent of your hair and - wait. There was a musky scent. It was coming from your clothes.

His eyes fluttered open in confusion, you smelt manly and familiar.. you smelt like him. You were wearing his sweat shirt from the night before.

Then he recalled, the late night love making session ended with the both of you falling asleep in each others arms naked.

Seeing you in his clothes, you must have been cold, which covered your frame nicely like a cute night dress turned up a flame in him. The fabric covered all his markings that he left on your skin from last night, yet you in his shirt meant that you belonged to him - wholly.

He found his member harden against your behind, wanting more of you, wanting his clothes wrapped around you, your skin full of his marks and your womb full of his seeds. Again.

Zora Ideale

Well this man hardly wore anything on usual days so he was pretty caught off guard when he woke up, finding you in one of his old hoodies one morning.

He stood there for awhile, looking at you in his hoodie, barely covering your ass. Your butt cheeks stuck out a little as you walked around the kitchen.

His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, giving your ass a little squeeze.

"where in the world did you find this hoodie?"

"mhmm from your side of the closet? It was pretty cold this morning so I just put it on~" you gave him a peck on the lips as you returned to your cooking.

"with nothing inside?" your boyfriend was feeling you up from above the hoodie.

"well this was warm enough- "

you didn't finish your sentence because he turned off the fire and carried you onto the dining table

"maybe breakfast can wait pretty girl," he lifted the hoodie a little, double confirming that you were indeed wearing nothing.

"baby! it's cold today!" you protested as your squirmed under his hold.

"I have no problems fucking you in my hoodie babes."

Ushijima Wakatoshi

There was a gala last night and you were dressed to the nines, looking sexy and beautiful in your maroon dress, while your man looked a sharp and smart in his maroon suit.

Of course everything came off the moment the both of you came home; you both couldn't keep your eyes off each other throughout the entire gala.

But this, was another thing altogether.

He called you, telling you to wake up because he got your favourite breakfast on the way home from his morning jog. But what he didn't expect was how you looked so fucking sexy in your bed head, sleepy face and in NOTHING except his huge white shirt.

"You're back from running? That was fast.." your words were still slurry from sleep.

"You look sexy like this." your man was not a person of words so he was always simple and straight to the point.

"I have no idea where my pjs are and this is the only thing I could put on..." you were trying to explain but you were scooped up in his huge arms as your thighs was wrapped around his waist.

His member was already poking at your entrance from under his trackpants.

"Toshi I can't, I'm still sore from yesterday..."

He didn't answer you, he was already pulling the cloth apart, exposing your breasts and sucking on them.

Kageyama Tobio

Your boyfriend was set to leave home again, to represent his country this time, for the olympics. You're proud of him, but you always miss him badly.

And on the mornings that he has to leave, you find yourself unable to let him go.

After rounds of love making last night, you were exhausted but you had to see him to the door. You hear fumbling around the house, him taking a shower and making some final packings. The car would be here soon to pick him to the airport.

You got out of bed, and put on one of his old jerseys.

"I'll miss you," you said sadly, standing at the kitchen doorway as he refilled your water bottle - something he always did for you before he left, so that you'll remind yourself to drink more while he was away.

He turned around blinking a few times at your outfit, or rather whatever that was barely covering your naked body.

He looked at his old karasuno jersey, he loved this particular one, in black and the number 9, and you looked so good in it, but all he could think of was your body and how he savoured it the night before.

His cheeks flushed a tint of pink, even after all the years together he was still flustered with you sometimes.

He pulled you close, pulling you up on the kitchen counter.

"I have a little more time.." he spoke quietly, his hands and fingers swiftly going underneath his shirt, pulling your panties off again.

His car was coming to pick him, but before that, he thought he'll coat your insides with his seeds again. How could he resist when you were in his favourite jersey?

[she-whatshername]

Thoughts while in my cold medicine induced haze

Prompt: how absolutely terrible the Marked Ones would be at taking care of you. Because they can’t be perfect at everything

Xaden:

The fault: too overprotective

“Tell me again,” he asked, “who were you with yesterday?”

“Huh? Xaden, why?” You grumbled hoarsely while pulling the covers up to your chin. It had been ten minutes since Xaden came into your room with a cup of tea and all of it was spent asking weird questions. The bedside manner this man had was…questionable. Pun intended. You just wanted him to snuggle and pamper you, was that too much to ask?!

“That Ridoc kid was sneezing this morning. Didn’t even cover his mouth,” he explained. He stood up from the edge of your bed, practically pacing. “Saw him yesterday didn’t you? I knew he was behind it.”

“Love. Please just lay with me.”

He grumbled while laying next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Finally. This was the comfort you were seeking. You begsn to close your eyes and settle for a nap.

“…want me to stab him a few times for you?”

Oh for fucks sakes! You let out an annoyed groan and threw the covers over your head, not before throwing Xaden and his ridiculous theories out of your room for the rest of the afternoon.

Garrick:

The fault: too handsy

“Thank you so much for the tea, Garrick.” You mumbled from the nest of covers you were under on the bed.

“Aww, you say my name so cute when you’re all stuffed up like that.” He smirked while sitting on the bed next to you. “You know, you look really hot for being sick as shit.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he serious? You were in the middle of a cold sweat, “I haven’t even showered today.”

A glint if mischief appeared in his eyes, “dirty girl.”

“Enough. Keep it in your pants Tavis, I’m sick!” Gods, normally you would find his libido and teasing tolerable but today? not the day.

But this was Garrick. It was a losing battle, “You’re so hot when you order me around like that. I’m kidding - don’t look at me like that. Just get some sleep okay?”

You rolled away from him and closed your eyes, hoping a nap would make you feel any bit better. After about an hour you woke, rising from the bed to head to the bathroom. You walked past Garrick who was lounging on a chair by the washroom door. It was nice he stayed with you while you slept. But that affection quickly ended once you felt his hand careen against your ass in a playful slap.

And while you’d normally find love taps like that endearing, you decided to return the favor and throw Garrick out of your room on his own ass.

Bodhi:

The fault: none! Angel this one is

Though, he’s probably such a hovering partner lolol

“I got your tea, love.”

“Thanks Bodhi.” You smiled at him while snuggling into your sheets. Now that you had some tea a nap wouldn’t be too far off. Just want you need.

“Of course. Need anything else? A book?”

“No, darling. I’m good.”

“Fluff your pillows?”

“You’re so sweet. I’m fine.”

“Need some more medicine?”

“All good.”

“Want me to get you lunch? Have you eaten?”

“No, and yes. I’m all set.”

“Need a massage?”

“No.”

“Want some help reorganizing your blankets?”

“Bodhi.”

“Can I get you some water?”

“Please-“

“Can I help you clean up in here?”

You groan and throw the blankets over your face as you attempt to silence the sounds of his questions and the other noises as he began to clean your room.

[jeannineee]

Intertwined (Ⅱ)

Batboys x Reader

a/n: part two is heeeeere!! Hope you guys enjoy!! Part one can be found in my masterlist. This was quickly proofread, sorry for any errors.

Side note: my requests are still open, I have 2 smut fics in the works for Azriel. Working on part 3!!

PART THREE

warnings: canon-typical shit, misogynistic Illyrians, sexual suggestiveness

You gawked like a fish at the three men in front of you, where you still stood in Rhys’s foyer.

That…feeling had subsided slightly. But it was still there. A pulling sensation, in your chest.

No, deeper than that. In your soul. In your very being.

You didn’t dare consider what it was. Couldn’t bring yourself to—

“Y/n?” Azriel called to you, brows furrowed with worry. Cassian and Rhysand shared the same look on their own faces.

“You checked out, for a minute there,” Cassian said, smiling sheepishly. “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yes.”

Rhysand studied you, as though he were trying to piece together what just happened. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You inwardly checked your mental shields—not that Rhys would intrude, but you checked anyway.

You stepped back, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I’m fine. ‘M gonna head back to the house. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day, so…”

They knew something was wrong. Did they feel it, too? They didn’t act like it.

“Well, let one of us fly you,” Rhys offered. There was nervousness in his voice, now.

“No,” you said, the word coming out harsher than intended, judging by the way all three of them flinched. “I just mean—I can winnow. I’ll winnow myself.”

You didn’t give them the chance to reply before you followed through, finding yourself back at the House of Wind within seconds. You went straight to your bedroom, ignoring the growling of your stomach as you readied yourself for bed.

You were sure any food you ate would taste like ash in your mouth, anyway.

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

The next morning, you woke early, dressing yourself in fleece-lined Illyrian leathers.

You didn’t dare go downstairs. Not yet.

You sat on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to ponder on what happened, yesterday. You knew what you felt. Knew what that snap was.

The mating bond.

Or was it? Was it even possible to have three mates? You’d heard stories of two…but three?

An insistent knocking at your door jolted you from your thoughts, sending you to your feet.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart!”

Cassian.

You took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants, before opening your door.

Cassian stood there, in his leathers, red siphons gleaming. He looked down at you, a lopsided grin plastered to his face. You interrupted him before he could speak.

“The next time you pound on my door, you lose your kneecaps,” you told the general, silently praying to the Mother that he couldn’t hear the way your heart was racing.

“Mean,” Cassian said, daring to dip his head even more. His warm breath tickled your face.

“You haven’t begun to see ‘mean,’ Cas.”

His grin widened. “Gonna show me?”

Your face reddened. Cassian smirked, his body almost flush against yours, now.

“Don’t back out now, sweetheart,” he murmured, tracing a calloused hand down your side. “Show me that attitude again.”

Your leathers were far too tight.

Mor’s voice echoing downstairs snapped you both out of the moment. “Get your sorry asses down here!”

Cassian moved from your doorway, allowing you through. But once you reached the top of the staircase, he grabbed your arm, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “This isn’t over, y/n.”

Mother save you.

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

Saying the Illyrian Steppes were cold was an understatement.

Icy. Frigid. Bone-chilling.

You couldn’t think of a word that would do justice to the way it felt.

The shivering, teeth-chattering cold, despite being in Azriel’s arms as you flew to Windhaven. He was warm. So warm. But even that wasn’t enough against this frozen hellhole.

Azriel’s bridal-style hold on you tightened, his hazel eyes scanning over your form.

“Won’t be much longer,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring. “They’ll have a cabin ready for all of us. A fire, warm food.”

“You’re teasing me,” you replied as you pressed your face against his chest, greedily absorbing his body heat.

Azriel’s voice was calm and quiet as he said, “This isn’t teasing, trust me.”

‘Trust me.’

You tried not to let your mind wander towards the ways the Shadowsinger could really tease you as you descended upon Windhaven.

Rhys landed next, and then Cassian, with Mor in his arms.

Lord Devlon already waited, a couple of Illyrian grunts on either side of him. He didn’t spare you, or Mor a single glance as he acknowledged Rhys.

“We’ll need accommodations,” Rhys said, sounding almost bored.

“Already done,” Devlon replied.

You tried to ignore the way the men around the camp eyed you and Mor, like prized mares. Rhysand caught on, a low growl leaving his throat as he spoke again to Devlon.

“Tell your men that if they value their hands, they won’t touch y/n or Morrigan. If they value their eyes, they won’t look at them for too long, either.”

Devlon looked inclined to protest, but thought better of it as he nodded. “You have my word.”

You doubted his word meant much as your group was escorted to the cabin.

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

Mor stole the warm bath first, leaving you, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel to pile around the fireplace.

Those three tethers that snapped into place yesterday roared in their presence. Even more so as Rhys spoke in your mind.

There are other ways to warm up, besides a bath, you know.

So go find an Illyrian woman to warm your bed, you quipped back.

There’s only one woman I want in my bed.

Rhys looked at you pointedly.

Poor baby.

You swore he chuckled faintly in your mind.

“So, are we going to discuss what happened yesterday?” Rhys questioned you aloud.

Cassian and Azriel both perked up at that, waiting for your response.

Shit.

“After the meeting tomorrow,” you finally said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Rhys hummed. “Leaving us in suspense, darling?”

“Cope.”

Cassian snickered at that, and even Azriel’s lips twitched up. Rhysand’s violet eyes gave you a painfully-slow once-over, the gesture sending heat pooling between your legs.

“Tomorrow, then.”

[hectorthedoggo]

aight i really don't feel like editing today so i'm just gonna give the unedited enyu thing for y'all :)

Tw: horror imagery

The warden took a swig from their glass of water, and turned their eyes back to their work, ignoring the slightly throbbing headache. It doesn’t matter.

Last time we went to get our daily check-up, Shidou told us to sleep, as we hadn’t slept in… a day? Yeah, that was a day ago. Hm… I don’t think that’s healthy. That was, what, yesterday? Hm…

They had whittled the two days away, only going for occasional breaks; they had requested more work, so they could be kept busy.

They had tried to sleep once in that period of time, and that hadn’t ended well.

Their rest probably lasted around 10 minutes, before they were promptly woken up by a nightmare. No way we should let that happen.

Jackalope didn’t seem opposed to the idea, as it would let him have less work. It was a win-win situation, because the more work they had, the less thinking they had to do.

However, the urge for sleep was pulling on them desperately. They didn’t remember the last time they sleep.

I suppose that I must, lest I randomly pass out. Again.

They sat up from the couch, setting their clipboard next to them.

They walked robotically to the bed, sloppily getting ready for bed and tucking themself under the sheets.

They decidedly didn’t look at the mirror while doing that, of course. We’re not an idiot.

They closed their eyes, but didn’t immediately fall asleep. It was ironic that they would be so tired yet not able to go to sleep.

They attempted sleep anyway.

That was idiotic of them.

After an indeterminable amount of time, they opened their eyes in their darkened room.

A feeling they were being watched clutched at their throat. No, that’s silly. Who would do that? Besides, we locked the door. There’s nobody in here, I’m- we’re just being paranoid.

However, out of some sort of twisted curiosity, they moved their eyes away from the ceiling.. 

A large black shape was in the middle of the room, slightly swaying.

They tried to get up, but couldn’t. Their body was immobilized by something. That shape wasn’t there before, oh god-

It started to float towards them, and it felt like their point of view shifted up. It slowly inched across the ground, two hanging limbs dragging across the ground.

Those are… those are feet, right?

They looked up, and a chunk of tangled golden-brown hair came from the head of the entity. It came to their bedside, and towered over them in the bed.

A cold sweat ran down their face, and they started to shiver. What? That’s-

Mahiru giggled, and they heard it. It was real.

But, she’s not alive, there’s no way this could be real.

Her hanging body resembled that of her boyfriends; an image subconsciously gifted to them by her MV.

A pale, ghostly hand reached toward their face, brushing their cheek. It felt so, so real.

They looked around the room, trying to find any way out, and ‘she’ started to hum her song. But, it was distorted, off key, and they started to try to cry.

It was a combination of fear and grief, but they couldn’t sob. They could never let it out, simply shaking and feeling the soft whisper of skin against their cheek.

Eventually, the sensation of the hand faded, and they woke with a start.

The first thing they did was scamper from under the bedsheet, as if it was the perpetrators of their distress.

They clutched their knees, and started to weakly sob. They didn’t have the energy or hydration, but they did have the raw emotion.

Oh god, and she seemed happy. That version of Mahiru was happy.

Right before she died, she was injured, and unhappy. She was faking happiness. I put her in such a state that she wanted this release. It’s my fault.

They clutched a pillow, and it simply deflated. I- I can’t do this anymore, but I can’t die.

I’m not going back to sleep. I’m not going back to sleep. I don’t want to see her again.

It’s all my fault.

It was dead quiet, excluding their own pathetic noises of fear and grief. They were so, so tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep.

They stared at some of the unfinished paperwork on the table. I’m having trouble thinking right now, but if I go back to sleep…

They let out another weak sob. I really don’t want to work… We’ve done that all day. But we should, shouldn’t we? It would take the pain away.

They kept clutching onto the pillow, but started to reassure themself of their authority, that it was all going to be okay, but it didn’t work.

The fear that Mahiru would pop up again, the monster would stare at them, remind them of their guilt. Why do I even see her as a monster? That’s horrible.

She just wanted to love people, and look at what we did to her.

The warden heard light footsteps, and hoped that whoever it was would open the door, check on them.

However, that hope was mixed with fear. But, we can’t let people see us like this. I-

They couldn’t repress their tears; not when there were so many. But, they did try to quiet them the best they could. It didn’t work; the attempt was half-hearted.

It was like a cry for help.

The footsteps stopped in front of their door.

Please. Please. But, they couldn’t directly admit it to themself.

They were relieved when they heard a knock on the door, and soon, an inquisitive head popped in. It’s Kotoko.

She’s going to see me like this. I’m not sure how to feel about this.

This is shameful. We can’t be doing this?

But, what do we have to lose? It feels like we won’t survive this any longer. We can’t.

That shut the warden up.

Will she protect me? She’s good with that, but my verdict’s ruined it all, as always.

She slowly stepped closer to them, but they didn’t protest. They were like an injured animal, though untrusting, had to rely on whoever’s around, no matter how they felt about that person.

They were somewhere else, staring at the spot where Mahiru appeared. Will she appear now? Kotoko will abandon me. Maybe she’s just here to admonish me or something.

I would deserve that. But, can the monster appear if she’s here? Am I at least slightly safer in her presence?

She approached their shaking form.

“How does this keep happening to you? Es, you should understand that you can’t keep this up.”

They shook their head, weak voice punctured by their gasping sobs, “But… Mahiru… she’ll come if I… if we try to… I can’t, I-”

The warden decided to stop their speaking before they revealed more weakness.

Kotoko stood over their curled-up, vulnerable form, eyes widened in a mix of anxiety and despair. The walls started to grow eyes, and they further curled into themself. “She, she’s, they’re all…”

Their cries came to be unapologetically louder than necessary, but she still didn’t save them.

Eventually, she overcame some of her own mental barriers, and scraped them off of their place of terror, up into her arms.

It was almost too easy, and they relaxed. She’ll protect me better than we can protect ourself.

She looked down on them. “Why did you do that?”

They passively looked at nothing, cries quieted now that they were safe. “We… we had to work.”

“That’s not helping anything, or anyone. You won’t be rational enough to decide life-changing verdicts. Idiot…”

Es looked ahead, at the eyes that watched them in the walls. 

“If we do the work, the more time we do it the better. I don’t have to feel anything when I’m working. Besides, I’m not… I’m not the one that chooses the verdicts, anyways. We-, no, I don’t matter.” Their speech and filter were slurred on their tiredness.

Sleep started to overtake them. I don’t care if this is Kotoko, I’d rather pass out here than on the floor.

She tried to lightly shake them awake, but it was futile. “Wait, the verdicts what?”

They lost consciousness, finally not worrying about working.

I guess she knows now.

I’m not sure how we’re supposed to feel about that.

-

When the warden woke up, they were, of course, back in Shidou’s room. Why do we keep ending up here? This is bothersome, and-

They tried to get up, hazily registering their surroundings, but was stopped. They scowled at the offender, Kotoko, again.

She pushed them, slightly roughly, back down. They tried to resist, but she held them still.

“Es, stop that. You’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

They kept their angry face on, but blocked the light from reaching their tired eyes. This is humiliating. Why is she treating me like a child that can’t take care of themself?

We’re perfectly fine.

Another voice, Shidou Kirisaki, chimed in from the background. His voice sounded a little choked up. “You’re really worrying us, Es. I- please stop doing this.”

Why would they be worried? “Why?”

“Why, what?” Kotoko’s stricter tone of voice.

“Why do you even care? What we do is none of your business. Again, I’m the warden, you’re the prisoners, there’s no reason for this irrational behavior.”

That left the adults in silence, and they let their pounding head adjust to the light the best it could.

They stared over at the two adults, who seemed like an unlikely duo. Didn’t they hate each other last time we checked?

Well, I suppose the verdicts might have changed things. Maybe Kotoko has lost her big ego, good.

Kotoko looked like a mess, her usual hair slightly out of place, and restraints all messed up. Shidou, despite his innocent verdict, looked even more pathetic.

His eyes were puffy from crying, something the warden hadn’t seen much of, other than that one time. Ah, those tears are for Mahiru. That’s right.

The air was thick with tension. Shidou broke the silence. “Es, we care about you.”

That is an outright lie. Does he really care about ‘me’? Or his kids. “No, you don’t. Why would you? All I do is boss you around.”

Kotoko sighed. “Es. Listen. I understand where you’re coming from; I used to be like this, but it didn’t work out for me, you should know. 

I wouldn’t want to lose you as a warden, despite- no, um, you’re an adequate warden. Your faith for your… cause, is admirable. I… I guess I don’t want to lose you.”

It must have taken a lot out of her to say that. Some of that seemed genuine, but…

The warden flicked their eyes over her vulnerable self, trying to justify her actions. Wait… The girl in her MV… Ah! I get it now. She just sees me as a weakling, a damsel in distress, out of her childish belief. That’s why she’s caring about me.

To her, we’re something to protect, out of a complex to make her feel better about herself. There’s no way she’d actually care for us. We can’t listen to her and feel vulnerable.

We were so pathetic last night. “I’m not falling for such a fragile pretense, Kotoko. You just see me like a weakling, like that girl, Keiko, was it? You’re no different than that man.”

They pointed at Shidou, who stared at them with a little heartbreak in his unc

This got straight to her heart, and she clenched her fist. “Stop that. That doesn’t matter. Caring about you aside, what about caring about your integrity as warden?”

This caught them off guard, as she brought up their own vulnerability, ignoring them. She’s bringing up the warden thing now. Are we going to survive this without having a mental breakdown?

That didn’t happen last time.

Yes, yes, we got this. Just ignore her words.

“You can’t be a good warden if you keep passing out like that. Even I slept when I was on the hunt; and I wasn’t the epitome of health. Shidou, you’re the health expert here.”

He cleared his throat. Are we just going to get scolded like this? “Alright, you’re 15, right?”

No response. Shidou continued on anyways. “I know full well you haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep in a while. Adults, yes, adults, can barely function on the amount of sleep you’ve been getting. And, you’re not even an adult.”

He shook his head, sighing. “You’ll do your work much faster on the highly recommended 8-10 hours.”

The warden detested this feeling, of being held down for something they knew full well was their fault, so they tried to avoid it. “I-”

Kotoko came to their defense, but also interrupted them, “In their defense… I don’t think their lack of sleep was fully their fault.”

Shidou turned to her, like a parent getting his authority questioned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you were having nightmares, right?” Her tone was almost accusatory. This woman…

They stared between her and Shidou, classifying her as ‘insufferable’, the category in which Shidou and Amane already had an annual membership to.

Shidou’s anger melted, which was way worse than his previous anger. “Right… don’t you have to watch murder happen in front of your eyes? I mean, that would be nightmare material for anyone…”

The warden had no sensible defense for that, so they simply sat up while Kotoko was too off-guard to push them down and bunched themself together. “I don’t think that that’s any of your concern.”

“If that’s affecting your sleep quality, a small dose of sleep medication will really help, but… No, I suppose that the situation calls for it.”

I- no, we can’t accept anything non-essential from this man.

We’re losing ourself. We really need to get more sleep, but…

This is self-contradictory. How are we going to get out of this one?

The stress of the situation was unmanageable. But, I can’t rely on anyone. But, I’ll have to rely on someone if I can’t sleep.

Okay, but we can’t cry, too. It’s just what we have to do.

This is so stressful.

They teared up, despite their best wishes. We- I can’t do this anymore.

They started to sniffle, but couldn’t exactly stop their tears. They’re going to see us during the interrogation, and this is all they’re going to think about.

We’re so pathetic, Milgram should just replace-

No, no, what am I thinking? I- we can’t do any of that. We can’t think like that. We are no use to Milgram dead.

Surely if Milgram didn’t want us, they could just get rid of us. Like they did Mahiru’s body.

Her body was never in the garbage, so where else could she have gone.

So, Milgram must care somewhat for me. We’re useful.

No reason to be crying. We’re alright.

Shidou reached out to them, trying to pat them on the shoulder, and they slapped it, as harshly as it could. “Get away from us.”

The cycle restarted.

But, they couldn’t exactly leave. So, they simply hissed threats under their breath, to try their best to get the two interferences away from them.

They’re the causes of this inept weakness.

Kotoko sighed. “Jeez. Listen, we’re not going anywhere, and you can’t even do any lasting damage to us; calm down.” A little bit of bitterness slipped into her voice.

Shidou shook his head, trying to gently approach them, to wipe their tears. They hit him away, truly set off.

Their eyes drooped, but they forced them open. We’re in danger right now. These are murderers.

Though, they did know, deep down, we’re the only danger here, to ourself.

“Es, please, we can’t keep doing this.”

I’m the warden. We’re the warden. We’re the warden. “We’re the warden.” It was a hoarse whisper.

“Christ, they’re insane.” Kotoko looked mildly horrified. “This isn’t Es, isn’t it?”

The two adults stood on opposite sides of their bed, within hitting range, but their reactions were delayed.

The walls began to grow eyes, due to their sleep deprivation. They stared back, as if challenging the audience to question their authority.

The eyes started to close. They’re scared of me, aren’t they? They don’t like me, don’t they? 

Will they stop watching now? If they don’t like us, we’ll be rejected as well.

Are we interesting? Are we good entertainment?

That’s our purpose, as the prison warden of Milgram.

They shoved and beat down their last shards of discontentment.

a/n: they literally can’t act tough anymore they’re so sleep deprived 💀#get this kid some therapy that’s not two adults with savior complexes PLEASE-

(@kani-miso)

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears a Suit

part Ⅱ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Mention of murder, Sexual harassment?, Explicit content, Curse words, Hot devil's son, Not proofread.

A/N: I tried my best, hope you enjoy.

A long night passed and the morning came. Well, if you can trust the clock. There were no windows at the Outpost for sunlight to penetrate the room, although even if there were some, it would not matter since after the bombs the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of fog. Fog of death.

I woke up with chills and sweat. Something haunted my dreams all night, making me shiver like a little lamb. Even though it was an unpleasant feeling, it added color to a pathetic parody of life that I have been having for the last 18 months.

Yesterday’s events bothered me. Moreover, they annoyed me. It was bright as day, that Langdon was messing with all of our minds, yet some part of my silly brain wanted me to believe that I was truly special. That he saw something, that no one else could.

I slowly walked to the bathroom. My bare feet touched the cold marble and I involuntarily shivered. I was tired. A mess. I washed my face and sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I noticed a motion somewhere behind, I turned my head and flinched. Snakes. They were crawling from the bath. Devilish creatures hissed showing me their poisonous fangs. I quickly ran out of the bathroom shutting the door behind me. What the hell? I caught my breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Are there snakes in my bathroom? I felt like I was going insane. Something cold touched my feet. Snakes. I jumped on the bed with a gasp. My closet and floor near it were full of them. They swarmed, intertwining with each other. Dozens of snakes. The other second I was already at the door, running to the hallway. Still barefoot in a white Victorian nightgown that Ms. Venable made us wear. I backed away from the room door and my back hit something soft. I turned around quickly, facing Michael Langdon's piercing blue eyes.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, preventing me from falling.

I stared at him for about a minute before words rolled out of my mouth.

“Snakes. There are snakes in my room.” My voice was hoarse, my fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was clearly amused by my state, studying my expression. Langdon chuckled, "Oh, really? Snakes, you say?" His eyes shone with a sly glint. I watched as he pushed me aside and glanced toward the room I had just run from.  

"May I?" he asked, and entered the room without waiting for my reply. I slowly followed him. To my horror, as we entered I saw nothing. Snakes were gone. Impossible.

“They were here. I swear to God they were here.” I mumbled looking around the room.

I noticed Langdon’s face contorted in hostility. 

“Don’t say such stupid words, Ms. Y/S. It’s unnecessary here.” 

I closed my face with my hands and sighed. Considering my appearance and edgy state, I totally looked like a mad woman. Nobody believes a mad woman.

“I believe you,” Langdon said, approaching me as if he read my thoughts. “Strange things sometimes happen. But it’s just… interesting that it happened in your room.” 

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my gaze searching his face.

“You probably know that snakes have always been representing sin. It’s their main dignity. Servants of darkness… if you believe in symbols, of course.”

I let his words sink in briefly, my gaze drifting to the ground lost in thought. Snakes… sin… Snakes slithering in the garden of Eden… temptress Eve... I understood where he was going.

I huffed at that, scoffing. "Is that your way of calling me sinful? A corrupted soul? Please, spare me the Bible lessons."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my comment, a playful smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I'm not calling you sinful," he said, leaning against the nearby wall, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “But as you said it… it would be amusing to see you getting corrupted.”

I rolled my eyes. "Then what are you calling me?" I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to regain some composure.

Langdon chuckled at my defensive stance. His eyes gleamed with amusement. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me.

"Are you always so feisty in the mornings?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I gulped as he came closer, a mix of annoyance and something else stirring inside me. His intense gaze made me feel cornered and yet, strangely… excited? My breath hitched as he was now standing directly in front of me, the space between us barely existent.

He raised his hand, a single finger tracing an invisible line down my cheek. "Or is it just my presence that gets you going?" he murmured, his voice dripping like honey.

The touch of his fingertip felt like a small electrical shock to my system. I tried to control my breathing, determined not to let him see me flustered.

"Your presence is hardly something exciting," I retorted, my voice a bit shaky. "It's more... irritating."

He smirked at my response. His finger trailed lower, down my jawline, and stopped at my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“Well, as I recall it was you, who fell into my arms with fear, m?”

I hated how his words were effective. I hated how true they were. I hated myself for being so affected by his presence.

I tried to compose myself, my jaw clenched tightly. "I was just surprised," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating too hard for any nonchalance. “There were snakes all over the room.”

Langdon chuckled, his thumb left my face and he slowly started walking toward the door. 

"Indeed there were," he replied, casually leaning against the door frame. He seemed relaxed as if the topic was of no real importance.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his nonchalant behavior. He was enjoying this, the way he was playing with me. The way he was playing with everyone. 

"Are you going to explain what happened here, or just act like it's normal for snakes to appear out of nowhere?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

Langdon chuckled at my question, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. "Isn't the mystery part of the thrill?" 

He walked out, closing the door behind me, leaving me again excited and annoyed. Silence engulfed the room after he left. I was left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind replaying the events that just occurred.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with a thump. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the steady beat of my heart. I couldn't shake off the feeling of… anticipation. Anticipation for the next time I would see him. That son of a bitch.

I quickly dressed up and went to the day room. We didn’t have breakfast there. We barely ate at all. Some kind of nutrition cube at lunch and water. Balanced diet. 

No one yet tried to break the rules of the house that Ms. Venable had set, so when I entered the room almost everyone was already there. Same people, same walls, same music. I was going insane.

I took my usual seat, the conversations around me blending into a dull murmur. I felt suffocated as if I was drowning in the monotony. All I could think about was the next part of the interview with a representative of the Cooperative. 

Sanctuary could be a lie, who can verify that? All this can be a way to manipulate us. Even Ms.Venable was afraid, she didn’t trust him but obeyed. We were a flock of sheep in a pen with a hungry wolf. 

I was lost in thought when I noticed someone settling into the seat beside me. I turned my head to see Mr. Gallant.

"You seem lost in thought," he noted, his voice soft. "Everything alright?"

“Yeah, just… had an unpleasant morning,” I answered shortly, not wanting to tell him anything. I replayed all morning and yesterday's events in my head again and felt anger in my body. It made my blood hotter. 

He had no time to answer, as Ms. Venable walked into the room. Her presence immediately silenced the conversations. Her expression was stern, and she scanned the room with a critical eye.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady and authoritative. She leaned on her cane and raised her voice a bit. “Today we are having a special treat. Don’t be late for lunch.” She turned from us and slowly started walking away, her heels echoing through the walls.

“Oh, by the way,” she stopped for a second but hadn’t turned her head. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Langdon is waiting for you in the interview room.” She said harshly as if his name was disgusting to her.

I could feel the eyes of the others on me as they turned their gazes in my direction. I stood up slowly, trying to seem unbothered.

The walk to the interview room seemed longer than usual, the silence only interrupted by my footsteps and my rapidly beating heart. I will beat this motherfucker.

I knocked on the door of his cabinet and entered. There he was, sitting on the table, as he was waiting for me in that position intentionally. His pose was casual but deliberate. His gaze met mine, a smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N," he greeted, his tone mocking yet playful. "Sit down please." 

I tried to retain my composure, refusing to let him see any hint of my nervousness. I sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to maintain some distance, yet feeling the closeness of the cramped room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.

“Well, It’s the second part of your interview-” He began but I interrupted him. 

"Cut the act, Langdon.” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “This psychotic bitch with her ridiculous rules is already sucking our blood, I don’t want another arrogant dick here, who thinks he can intimidate us. We both know this isn't a real interview. Even if Sanctuary is true, selection is just part of your manipulation." 

Langdon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?" He stood from the table and slowly started to circle me, like a shark circling wounded man in the water. I instinctively followed his movements with my eyes. "And why would I come to the Outpost then?" He stopped behind me, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I felt my breath hitch as he came closer, his breath sending a shiver through my body. I resisted the urge to lean away, instead sitting ramrod straight in my chair.  

"You tell me," I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I was feeling. He continued to circle me, his presence making the room feel even smaller.

Langdon chuckled at my response, his footsteps echoing around me as he completed his circle. He stopped in front of me. Smile gone.

“You are scared. It’s okay to be scared.” His calmness filled my mind with anger.

“I’m not.”

He smiled and leaned closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in with his arms.

“Of course you are,” he chuckled. His gaze fixed on mine. “And you should be.”

His arms on either side of my chair made me feel trapped. I could feel the power radiating from his body, and I had to fight the urge to lean back. I inhaled his smell, expensive cologne. Sweet, yet bitter, he smelled like dominance. It was hypnotic.

His chuckle was almost mocking as if he knew the effect he was having on me. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Why would I be scared of you?"  I retorted, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “You are nothing more than the obedient dog of The Cooperative.”

As words rolled out my mouth, I almost immediately regretted saying them. His smirk faded, eyes flashed with irritation and something even worse. I felt fear scratching my heart.

"Careful," he warned, calmly. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my bravado wavering under his intense gaze. His threat lingered in the air like a shadow, and I knew he meant it. 

"I'm not intimidated by your empty threats," I managed to say, without thinking. Dumb bitch.

Langdon chuckled darkly, and the sound made goosebumps rise on my skin. Before I could say anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, not really choking me, but just enough to be a warning.

"Empty threats?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm bluffing?" His grip tightened slightly, causing a gasp to escape my lips. I could feel my eyes widen in panic, but I tried to maintain a brave expression. “Tsk, tsk, I can already imagine how nice it would be to cut out that pretty tongue of yours.”

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips at his threat. His grip on my throat was strong, constricting just enough to make me gasp for breath. 

"You... you wouldn't dare," I somehow managed to squeak out, my voice sounding weak and fearful. 

“Oh you think your pathetic life costs anything?” he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I could stab your stomach and rip out your little heart with my bare hand and no one could stop me.”

His words stung like a physical blow, and I felt my heart race in panic. He was deadly serious, looking at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please don't."

Langdon's hand tightened the grip around my throat. He smiled at my pleading, a cold, cruel smile. 

"Begging already?" he asked, his voice mocking. "And after you so bravely challenged me."

My hands scrambled to pull away his wrist, trying to loosen his tight grip on my throat. I couldn't speak, could barely gasp for air.

His smile widened at my futile struggle, he enjoyed playing. He leaned closer, his face inches away from mine. 

"This is what happens when you challenge someone with power," he murmured. "You get humbled."

I was unable to say a word, strangled by his hand, tears starting to well up in my eyes. The room started to spin, and my vision became disoriented.

“Still, have hesitation about my authority?” he asked, his tone almost soothing.

"N-no... no..." I managed to choke out.

His hand released its grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for air. My body slumped against the chair, trembling uncontrollably. I took a moment to recover from his grip, my heart still pounding and my breath shaky. I felt smaller under his gaze, like a mouse trapped under the eye of a snake.

Langdon chuckled at my reaction, his eyes glinting with cruel enjoyment. "Pathetic," he said, the word dripping with derision. 

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I knew he was relishing every moment of my humiliation.

Langdon reached out, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. His touch was rough, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he spoke. 

"Now can you listen to me?"

I nodded weakly, my throat still sore from his assault. Langdon saw the fear in my eyes, and his smile widened at the sight.

"Good," he murmured, his hand slowly releasing my chin.

His gaze never left me, his eyes scrutinizing every reaction I made.

"You were smart enough to figure out the whole interview thing," he said, his tone casual yet calculating. "But you're not smart enough to know when to keep that pretty mouth shut." Langdon chuckled, a twisted sound that made me flinch. "Still, I appreciate the fire," he said. "Most of the other 'interviewees' are a little too... shallow, I’d prefer most of them dead by evening." 

His eyes never left mine, studying me intently. I tried to hide any emotion.

"They all tremble before the thought of going to The Sanctuary and willing to please me in any way. But you're…," he continued. "You're unfortunately not satisfied with just being an obedient pretty face. No, you have an attitude. And that, my dear, is your undoing."

“M’sorry.” I breathed out quietly.

"Apologies mean nothing," he said smiling. "The main thing is understanding how everything works. So tell me, did you truly understand the lesson here, or does your pretty little head need another reminder?" His tone was cold and condescending, making me feel even smaller. 

The fear that had subsided slightly came rushing back, cold and constricting - raw.

"No, no, I..." I stammered. "I understand." 

Langdon chuckled. "See, now that wasn't that difficult, was it?" he crooned, his hand reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. His touch was mocking, a cruel gesture that sent a shiver of disgust through me and I diligently tried to hide it. It was hard not to move away. He seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now we can have a productive talk.” He said, turning away from me. “You have brains, I’ll give you that. So why not put them in use, hm?” 

I could feel a slight sense of relief as he turned away from me, but it was quickly replaced by a wary uncertainty. His change in demeanor was unpredictable, and I had no idea what was coming next.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

He began pacing back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're clever, resourceful... more useful from. And I hate to see potential go to waste."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me intently. I could practically feel the gears in his mind turning as he weighed his words.

"But the problem is, you're stubborn," he said finally. "And that stubbornness leads to insolence."

He leaned in, his face mere inches away from mine. The smell of his cologne hit my nose again. Crisp and masculine scent.

"And insolence, my dear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is a trait I don't tolerate."

“I understand that.” I said semi-calmly.

“Oh, you are a quick learner as well.” he murmured. “Good girl.” His tone was still mocking, and I hated how the praise sent a flicker of warmth through me. I tried to remain stoic, but his words were starting to chip away at my defenses. 

He stepped back, his gaze still locked on me. 

"I have an offer for you," he said. "An offer that could benefit us both, if you play your cards right."

“What offer?” 

“I want you,” he began. “To work for me.” 

“Work for you?” I asked dumbly.

He chuckled at my confusion, enjoying my surprise.

"Yes, work for me," he confirmed. "You'll be doing research, digging up information on others, doing necessary tasks, anything I need. Think you can handle that, hm?"

“But… how?” I wasn’t expecting that offer at all. And how the fuck should I dig on others?

Langdon smiled at my question, obviously finding it amusing that I wasn't catching on.

"How?" he echoed. "You seemed smarter a few minutes ago."

He leaned against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, gathering intel for me. You'll tell me everything you see, hear or feel. And in return… I’ll put in a good word for you with the members of the Cooperative." 

I sat there, watching him silently.

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in. He was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," he began. "You're thinking about all the possibilities, aren't you? Life at The Sanctuary is heaven if you are friends with the authorities." He smirked.

He was right. The possibilities were spinning in my head like a whirlpool. 

But I knew there was a catch. People like Langdon never offered anything without expecting something in return. Something much bigger than collecting information. 

“What’s the catch?” 

He smirked at my question. His eyes were glittering with satisfaction, clearly enjoying his little game.

"Ah, are you always so suspicious or am I an exception?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“You think I shouldn’t be suspicious of the man who almost choked me to death a few minutes ago?” My tone filled with venom and I bit my tongue, afraid to anger him again.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it was just a friendly reminder” he said leaning closer to me, whispering. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, you are bad at hiding it.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment rushing through me. 

"Enjoy that?" I shot back. "Why would I enjoy being strangled by a sick psychopath?"

He smirked at my outburst, seemingly unfazed by my anger. 

"Now now, no need for name-calling," he said with mock hurt. "You can lie to yourself if it gives you comfort, but I saw the way you reacted, the way your body tensed, and the way your pupils dilated."

His gaze roamed over me in an almost predatory manner, making me feel exposed.

“Anyway, we have more important things to discuss than your sexual desires.” He smirked. “Accept my offer?”

His brazen, almost predatory manner was as infuriating as it was intoxicating. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I refused to look away. 

"Accept your offer..." I echoed, trying to sound strong. "You haven't exactly explained the full extent of this 'job' you're offering. I need more details before I can even consider it." I forced the words past my lip.

“It’s easy. You are loyal to me and I promise you protection. It’s always useful to have an intelligent, pretty head on your side.” he said, looking me up and down. “Before me, you were all alone among bastards, but now I offer you my hand and I really don't recommend biting it.”

“So I have to become a backstabber?” 

"No, my dear, you're thinking too low. You won't be backstabbing anyone. You'll merely be... helping me to form a new society. " He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Don’t tell me you are afraid of getting your hands bloody, I saw the way you look at Ms. Venable. You are bloodthirsty."

My eyes widened at his observation. I wasn't surprised he had caught on to my hatred for Ms. Venable, but hearing him say it out loud was another matter. 

"I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty," I said, my voice firm despite the shiver that ran down my spine. "I'm just not fond of being used."

Langdon sat on the edge of the table and smiled, almost genuine, he looked at me like I was a little kid.

“Come here.” he said calmly and beckoned me with the nod of his head.

I hesitated, not sure whether to obey his command or not. I slowly stood up and walked over to him, stopping a few feet away from him. It was crazy how he was radiating comfort and dominance at the same time. 

“Closer. I won’t bite.” 

I stepped closer and his hand reached to stroke my hair.

“You are special.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You can achieve a lot or… stay here and rot with others.”

His words were like a cold bucket of water, snapping me out of the odd comfort I found myself in. I knew he was right, of course. Staying here meant settling for a life on the sidelines, living in fear and boredom. Or just die.

"You don't play fair, do you?" I said, my voice tinged with irritation. "One second you're choking me, the next you're stroking my hair and promising me the world."

"And why should I play fair, hm? Rules don't work anymore here, chaos has won." He leaned closer. 

I found myself smiling despite myself. It was probably still a shock. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. There was a dangerous charisma to him, an irresistible charm that I couldn't quite explain.

"That’s a convenient excuse for you to do whatever you want," I shot back, trying to sound defiant. "No rules means no boundaries."

Langdon chuckled again, his smirk widening. His hand slid down from my hair to rest on my throat again, his thumb brushing against my pulse.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I might start thinking you're enjoying this a bit too much." I freeze. “And about the rules… I prefer bending them, instead of breaking."

I didn’t answer, waiting for him to continue. He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. His thumb traced lazy circles on my throat, making my pulse quicken involuntarily.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” He whispered in my ear. “It would be a shame if such potential would remain undisclosed…” His hand moved lower, gently touching my collarbone. “In this body.”

His touch ignited a strange fire inside me. I desperately tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him, the way my heart raced and my skin tingled where he touched me. 

"You make it sound like I'm a ticking time bomb." My voice came out a little breathier than I intended.

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, darling," Langdon purred. "You’re more like a grenade. A beautiful, deadly grenade.” His hand caressed my skin. “So… Do we have a deal, Ms. Y/N?” 

I stared down at the floor, then back at Langdon, my gaze calculating. After a few seconds I nodded. “Deal.”

“Wise.” He smiled. “Now let’s make that official.”

His left hand went to grab my waist, while the other reached out to take something from the table. Small dagger. I instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on me was unwavering

“No need to be scared, little lamb.” He handed me the weapon with the hilt forward. 

“Official?” I echoed.

“Yes. Deal in blood.” His answer made my body flinch.

The cool metal of the dagger felt heavy and unfamiliar in my hand. 

“Aren't you afraid that I would stab you?” I asked him, trying to hide my fear.

Langdon chuckled darkly, liking the question. 

"You wouldn't dare," he said with absolute confidence. "You're far too smart and too… intrigued by me to do something so foolish."

His eyes glittered dangerously like he was daring me to prove him wrong. "And besides... I have a feeling you're far more interested in finding out what it would be like to be on my good side."

He directed my hand, in which the dagger was clutched, and leaned the tip against the palm of his left hand. “Cut.”

I watched in fascination and slight horror as the blade made a small incision in his hand, a thin line of blood forming on his palm. He didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on mine the entire time. It awakened in me something feral.

“Now you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

He grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and guided the knife to my palm. The sharp pain was muffled by his lips on my cheek. The warm blood slowly pooled in my palm. 

He pressed his wounded hand against mine, the touch inflicted pain. The blood from his hand mingled with mine, the warmth and stickiness of it a strange and yet somehow comforting sensation. 

 "And with that..." he said, his voice hushed. "Our deal is sealed."

I felt the burning urge to press my lips to his. Without clearly thinking I leaned to his face, kissing him hungrily. He didn’t return the kiss, but didn’t pull away either. 

"Now, now, dear," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don't get ahead of yourself. No need to complicate things…"

His gaze flicked down to my lips, his own curving into a smug smile. I was ashamed of my bold move and confused by his stubbornness. He was a man after all, wasn’t he?

"Complicate?" I repeated, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "Says the one who just made me swear a blood pact."

Langdon chuckled, amused by my attempt at irritation. "Ah, don't pout," he said, his hand moving to gently cup my jaw. 

"Just because I'm not giving in to your every desire doesn't mean I’m inaccessible.” He leaned closer to my ear. "But keep pushing, darling. I do love it when you act up, maybe next time you wil get lucky." He carelessly brushed his lips along my wound, making me whimper quietly, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment. God, he is killing me.

Langdon pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His hand left my jaw, and I found myself missing the feel of his touch already. I leaned forward, wanting him to touch me.

"Ah ah ah," he tutted, his voice mockingly chiding. "I can practically feel your eagerness, my dear. But I'm afraid I can't have you slacking off on our deal."

He gestured lazily to the door. "You should return to your routine. Can’t have Ms. Venable catching you slinking around here for too long."

I bristled at his order, but I knew he was right. I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

I started to walk toward the door, my wounded hand throbbing a little from the recent events. But before I reached the threshold, Langdon's voice stopped me.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

I turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

His eyes were glinting mischievously.

"A word of advice," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Try to control that urge of yours. It's going to get you in trouble..." He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. "Or is it already too late?"

“Check it yourself next time,” I answered boldly and grabbed the door handle.

I couldn’t see his face, but was sure that he was amused.

"I might just take you up on that offer." I heard his smooth voice, as I left the room. "Off you go, little lamb." 

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it with my back. Probably that’s what it feels like to sell your soul to the Devil.

Have a good day <3