#someone tell me why this is 3k words

[babytarttdoodoo]

Jamie’s afraid of making a big deal out of being hurt after everything that happened in season 1 - he doesn’t want everyone to think he’s being a prick again. But then one day either in season 2 or 3 he actually is genuinely hurt badly (the reason is up to you) but doesn’t tell anyone and shows up to practice anyway. It’s bad enough that he collapses on the field and that’s when everyone finds out.

I could have made this so much easier on myself and literally just written the conversation at the end. As it is, I started hating this about a third of the way through.

I hope that's just hyper-criticism of my own work and that this is still an enjoyable request fill.

---

It wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose.

A lack of sleep, a dark hallway, and a half-forgotten set of steps had all converged into a little tumble in the middle of the night. That was all.

A bruised side. A knock on the head. No big deal.

That’s what Jamie had told himself as he’d inspected the damage in the mirror. He would be fine. He could put his kit on at home and wear a beanie to cover up the dark smudge of skin at his temple.

No one would notice. No one needed to know. It would be fine. Hardly the first time he’d pushed through an injury to stay in the game, was it?

He didn’t need to miss training. He didn’t need to turn up at Nelson Road and tell Ted he couldn’t play. Just the thought of trying to do so sent a thrill of unease through Jamie that he wasn’t keen to examine too closely.

So he took some ibuprofen, slowly and stiffly got changed into his Richmond gear, and called a taxi to get himself to the training ground late enough that no one had time to question his appearance.

(Driving was out of the question. He could admit that.)

Roy all but sneered at him when he stumbled in - that wasn’t anything to write home about, though. He caught a few looks from the others and had to wave Dani off on their way out to the pitch but, otherwise, Jamie was able to keep his head down and not draw attention to himself.

Drills were awful. Just stretching out his legs had him biting his tongue against making any pained sounds. When they started lunging, the hot-sick pain in his side necessitated swallowing down bile.

Sprints weren’t the worst, though Isaac definitely noticed he wasn’t starting from a crouch as he normally would. Then Nate had them doing a coordination exercise, hopping sideways and throwing balls between each other.

Lifting his arms was bad enough. Then each hop jolted Jamie’s whole body and made his head throb.

He managed, somehow, but Jamie wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was being slow and clumsy. He was being useless. Fuck.

Panting, sweating, and trying not to throw up, he hovered at the back of the group and prayed no one called him out. No such luck. 

“You alright, mate?” Colin had sidled over while Ted called out their scrimmage teams. He was speaking quietly, which Jamie appreciated, but frowned at him with an unusual level of seriousness. Shit.

“Course I am.” Jamie forced himself to straighten up and smile. It felt wrong on his face. Too many teeth. “Just got a stitch. Didn’t drink enough.”

Colin looked doubtful, like he was about to question him further, but Jamie pushed forward to accept his yellow vest from Beard and positioned himself as far away from the Welshman as he could.

He was careful to stay in the formation they were practising, though. No sense in fucking up training for everyone more than he already had.

Roy hollered “WHISTLE!” from the side of the pitch and everyone lurched into action. Running around wasn’t so bad and Jamie soon lost himself in the game, following the movement of the ball and players with a preternatural instinct, ignoring any pain as the inconvenient distraction it was.

The few times the ball came his way, he took control of it as if by second nature, barely having to tell his feet what to do as he passed to Dani, then to Sam ten minutes later.

He was being a good teammate. He was playing like he was supposed to. And then he heard someone shout his name.

Jamie didn't need to look around to know that the ball would be sailing through the air towards him. He didn't need to deliberate about what to do. He would catch the ball on his chest and send it to Sam again before Richard could make it close enough to tackle. It was the only option to get it in the net.

He didn't need to think about it. He just did it.

And his sore, battered ribs only crossed his mind when he jumped up and twisted mid-air.

The yelp of pain was completely involuntary and Jamie would have been horrendously embarrassed by it if he hadn’t immediately crumpled into a heap on the pitch.

Something had grinded in his torso. It fucking hurt. It felt wrong.

He distantly registered the sound of an actual whistle over the rushing white noise in his ears as he lay gasping on the damp grass. A hand grasped his arm and Jamie realised Richard had skidded to his knees beside him, ball forgotten.

“Jamie? What’s wrong?” More hands were on him, trying to turn him over, but the slight pull sent another wave of sick pain through his side and he keened, curling up further to stave off the harm. “Merde, get the medics.”

“Colin’s already gone.” That was Isaac, a lot closer than he’d been less than five minutes ago, defending the box on the other end of the pitch. “He’ll need a stretcher if we can’t move him ourselves.”

“Fuck.” The notion of needing to be carried out of training brought Jamie back to himself. “I don’t need… Fuck it. I’m fine.”

“No, you are not.” Sam was standing over him as well, Jamie realised as he tried to force himself up to his knees at least. Most of the team were looming around, actually, and Ted broke through their little huddle right as a spike in pain brought up the vomit Jamie had been desperately holding back all morning.

“Hoo boy.” An American accent could really cut through the crowd, apparently, since Jamie had no problem hearing that low exclamation over twenty or so sounds of disgust.

Someone stopped him from pitching forward into his own sick and Jamie finally, limply, accepted help back upright onto his own shaky legs. Ted’s hands were one of the several pairs supporting him and Jamie could feel the humiliation and shame rising up in his gut like another bout of nausea.

“Sorry, coach,” he mumbled, even as he let Isaac put a secure arm around his waist. Sam tried to prop up his other side but Jamie shied away with an apologetic shake of the head. “Ribs. Don’t- Can’t lift me arm right now.”

He silently begged the younger player to understand, to not take it as yet another personal slight. Because Sam Obisanya was a much better person than Jamie would ever be, he only took a firm hold of Jamie’s elbow instead, face belying nothing but concern.

“Okay, folks, let’s give him some room.” Ted shooed gently at everyone not currently vital to keeping Jamie vertical. “You fellas got a good hold of him? We can get a stretcher out here, tout sweet.”

“Don’t want a fucking stretcher. I can walk.” Jamie bit out, choosing not to acknowledge how heavily he was still leaning on Isaac and Sam.

“Well, son, I’m not all too keen on taking your word for that right now.”

Ted’s tone didn’t change at all from the pleasant, practical way he’d just addressed the others. He didn’t raise his voice even a little. Jamie still felt the admonishment like a physical blow and hung his head with a wince.

“We’ve got him,” Sam spoke up. “Treatment room, right?”

They made an awkward threesome, hobbling off the pitch behind Ted and down the tunnel. Colin jogged out to meet them with a medic in tow and (surprise, surprise) Roy peeled off from the other coaches to join the entourage hustling Jamie towards the now-not-haunted medical suite.

Settled uncomfortably on the edge of the reclining bed, with a hovering audience whose eyes he couldn’t meet if he tried, Jamie numbly answered the medic’s questions about his pain level and location. He allowed her to gently remove his hat and examine the bruise underneath, went through the concussion tests without complaint, and was even honest about when he’d last eaten or drank anything.

When she pulled up his shirt, there was more than one sympathetic wince around the room. A quick look down confirmed that the bruise, though still quite small, had deepened in colour since he’d last poked at it and his skin looked oddly swollen around the area.

Even the barest methodical prodding with careful fingers made Jamie flinch and hiss through his teeth. The medic (Jennifer, Jamie vaguely recalled) hummed thoughtfully.

“Two are definitely broken. You’ll need to stay off the pitch for a few weeks, at least.”

The prognosis tightened Jamie’s throat like a hand was clamped around his neck. 

“Weeks? Nah, fuck that,” he choked out. “I were playing fine until I took the chest ball. I can still score.”

“Are you actually thick?” Roy demanded, loud and angry as per usual. There was something wild in his expression as he stepped closer to the bed. “How fucking stupid do you have to be to try and play with broken fucking ribs.”

“Fuck off, you won’t even coach me,” Jamie snarled at him, all attempts at mending bridges forgotten in the wake of pain and frustration. “Don’t act like it matters if I play hurt or not. I’ve done it plenty times before.”

“Alright, alright!” Ted cut in between them before Roy could retort with whatever words had conjured up that twisted, outraged look on his face. Nothing good, Jamie was sure.

“Roy, why don’t you take five, okay? In fact, let’s clear the room. Y’all got things to do, I’ll stick with Jamie while the good doc here gets him set up with what he needs.”

Even with Ted partially blocking his view, Jamie could see Roy was about to argue. Surprisingly, it was Isaac’s hand on his shoulder that seemed to take the wind out of his sails.

“Fuck! Fine!” He shrugged the hand off and pointed damningly at Jamie’s face. “But you’re not putting a toe out on the grass until I say so, you bloody fuckwit.”

With that, Roy stormed out of the room, sending the door bouncing off the wall with the force of his exit. Jamie’s teammates followed much more sedately, all with looks back over their shoulders and quiet murmurs Jamie couldn’t discern.

“Here.” He jumped slightly when maybe-Jennifer reappeared at his side with a bundle of items. “Drink this and take two paracetamol. Hold the ice pack to your side for twenty minutes. If the swelling hasn’t gone down, I’ll send you home with a few extras, okay?”

“Thank you kindly, doc,” Ted answered for him. “I’ll make sure he stays put for a bit.”

“Not a doctor,” she corrected mildly but gave Ted a smile and nod. “I’ll need you to sign an incident report and there’s some insurance paperwork to go through. I’ll go get the ball rolling on that and check in later.”

Jamie didn’t really like the way they were talking around him, rather than to him. He liked the idea of being alone with Ted after having caused a scene and an extra load of work for him even less. Still, he couldn’t think of any reason for the medic to stay and just watched her walk away, gently closing the door in her wake.

“You should probably do as she says,” Ted said softly after a moment of quiet, indicating the bottle of water and packet of tablets. “Doesn’t strike me as the ‘take it or leave it’ kind of advice. Rarely is, from those of the medical persuasion, even if they don’t have a fancy title.”

Moving like he was underwater, braced for the other shoe to drop, Jamie silently went through the motions of taking the painkillers. He tried not to move in any way that would agitate his injury but his hands were still shaking by the time he reached for the ice pack.

“Oh, here, let me…” Ted stepped in closer, his own hands outstretched, and Jamie flinched violently. The sudden jolt caused his abused ribs to make themselves known all over again and a small shout fell from his mouth unbidden.

“Alright, okay, no touching, got that memo, loud and clear,” Ted rambled on while Jamie waited for his vision to clear from the haze of pain. When it did, he noticed his coach frozen in place, hands still hovering in midair and significantly less threatening than moments before.

“Sorry,” he croaked, embarrassment and discomfort robbing his voice. “Didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Now, hey, no. That one’s on me.” Ted glanced around and pulled up a chair to sit near Jamie’s knees. “How’s about you get that ice where it needs to be and you and I have a little heart-to-heart, that sound okay?”

Jamie nodded and gingerly wrapped the frozen pouch in the towel provided before applying it to his side. The relief was almost immediate and he felt his shoulders relax from the tense position he hadn’t even registered amongst everything else.

Ted clearly noticed too, since he smiled up at Jamie. There was still a furrow between his eyebrows, though.

“Ain’t it great when stuff helps the way it’s supposed to?” he started and Jamie tried not to let the dread of what was coming show on his face. “You know, when you’re sure that, in theory, something should do you good but you’re not quite bought into the reality yet? It’s a damn good feeling when the bet pays off.

“Course, sometimes it goes the other way. The thing that’s supposed to help you doesn’t do anything at all. Or, hell, it just makes everything worse…”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie blurted out again in a panic. “I weren’t trying to do that. I swear, I know I’m not supposed to mess up training or nothing. I… I…”

“Whoa, whoa, Jamie!” Ted’s smile had dropped clean off his face. “I think we’ve got some wires all muddled up here, somewhere. I’m not fishing for an apology. Matter of fact, I’m kind of wriggling on the end of the hook, myself.”

Jamie really, honestly tried to wrap his head around that one. He failed. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Ted told him firmly. “We all knew something wasn’t right with you out there today and let you play on through anyway. That’s no bueno. If you can’t rely on your coach to help you out when you need it, well, then, that’s not a sign of a very good coach, is it?”

Jamie stared at him, dumbfounded. “But… I didn’t tell you I were hurt.”

“There is that,” Ted agreed easily, nodding and settling back in his chair. “And I’d sure like to hear how you got knocked around so good in the whole twelve hours you were out of our sight. Any particular reason you didn’t share that with the class this morning?”

“I…” The hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack to Jamie’s ribs started picking at the disposable paper sheet on the bed. “I fell. Down the stairs at me house. Last night. I. It didn’t hurt too bad, I thought.”

Ted hummed. “Well, you see? Accident like that, it ain’t anybody’s fault. And you felt okay after?”

The excuse hung there so temptingly that Jamie was almost inclined to think they were back to mind games. He could tell Ted that he’d been sore, but fine, up until he got out on the pitch. But that would be just another lie, wouldn’t it? And all lying had done for him today was drag more and more people into his shit.

So, instead of agreeing like he so desperately wanted to do, he shook his head slowly.

“No, no I weren’t okay.” He swallowed and looked down at his shoes, dangling just shy of the floor. “Couldn’t even drive myself in, could I? But I thought being here and acting normal was better than… better than saying I couldn’t train today. More important.”

“Oh. Now, that’s another thing to chalk up in the ‘no bueno’ category, I’m sorry to say.” Ted’s voice had softened again but Jamie couldn’t bring himself to look up. “Jamie, if you’re hurting, ever, practice or no, I’d really rather you say so. Nothing’s more important than that.”

“Team is,” Jamie objected quietly. “Being here is. I don’t got anywhere to get sent back to now, do I?”

That sullen admission hung in the air. Jamie heard Ted suck in a breath.

“Okay. Alright. Could you do me a favour and try to lift that handsome as all heck face of yours up, just a smidge? I’m getting the feeling eye contact is going to be real important here.”

With very few options of avoidance available to him, Jamie forced himself to meet Ted’s gaze. His expression bore a startling resemblance to Roy’s wild-eyed reaction before, which did nothing to set Jamie’s mind at ease.

“Jamie, when you turned up to practice last season and said you weren’t going to train, I assumed you were mad because I benched you. That sound about right?”

The player nodded, ready for the familiar prickle of shame that clawed through his chest at the memory.

“So you weren’t actually hurt? Or did I get that wrong?”

Jamie shook his head this time, then clarified: “Were being a prick.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Water under the bridge.” Ted scrubbed a hand over his face, looking relieved for some bizarre reason. “Can we agree, though, that there’s a difference between someone pretending to be hurt, for whatever reason, and someone actually being badly injured? That a middle ground we can settle on?”

“Yeah…” Jamie agreed cautiously.

“Outstanding.” Ted took a deep breath. “So, let’s just take a little hop, skip and jump from there to how things might’ve played out a little differently today than they did last year?”

“Oh.” Jamie blinked a few times, processing. Slotting that bit of logic into the missing gaps of the day. “You’re not angry at me for missing training?”

Ted’s face broke back into a genuine, if tired, smile. “No, sir, I am not angry at you for that. Or for any other reason, while we’re on the subject. I am… mighty disappointed that you didn’t feel like you could come to me, or even call when you took your little tumble. But I think maybe we can both agree to do a little better next time, how about that?”

He held out his hand for a shake - his left, in deference to Jamie’s occupied right. That small concession alone was enough for Jamie to wordlessly grasp Ted’s palm with his own in a firm hold.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

“I know, Jamie,” Ted assured him. “That’s all any of us can do.”

[hihomeghere]

Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage

Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed. 

“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.

“Name?” The man asked with a smile.

“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.

“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.

“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast. 

Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur. 

“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.

“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below. 

“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”

“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.

“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.

“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.

“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table. 

“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.

“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.

“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face. 

“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled. 

“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.

“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.

“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him. 

“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. 

The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. 

You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow. 

Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile. 

Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.

“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.

You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.

The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.

The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered  the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.

“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.

One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.

Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.

You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat. 

“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up. 

“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe. 

“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”

“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.

Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants. 

“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.

“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.

“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls. 

“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.

“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.

You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him. 

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly. 

You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple. 

“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.

“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt. 

“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”

“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.

“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance. 

Jesus Christ he was big. 

He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick. 

“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours. 

“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks. 

“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock. 

“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered. 

“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips. 

He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off. 

“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips. 

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw. 

“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest. 

“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”

[ramonathinks]

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference. 

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you. 

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that. 

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis. 

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit. 

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position. 

 Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.” 

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you. 

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought. 

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes. 

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below.  Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards. 

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.” 

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him. 

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked. 

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come. 

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down. 

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound.  “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you. 

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center. 

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it. 

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up. 

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~

You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme. 

You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless. 

Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days. 

But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even? 

Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home. 

The home that wasn’t Velaris. 

You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris. 

Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep. 

He was everywhere, everything. 

But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance. 

With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading. 

Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.

It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel. 

You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed. 

You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys. 

It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long. 

The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.” 

The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips. 

Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest. 

“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?” 

The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.” 

That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure. 

And of course he had sent Azriel of all people. 

“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—” 

“Why is half of your vanity gone?” 

You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room. 

“What?” It was all you could think to formulate. 

But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.” 

“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”

But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort. 

“Azriel—” 

“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.” 

“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful. 

You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing. 

Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.

But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity. 

“Is something the matter?” you tried. 

Azriel’s hand twitched. 

That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again. 

“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched. 

You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?” 

He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from. 

“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.” 

“I was going to—” 

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.” 

The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move. 

“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.” 

“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word. 

You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”

A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility. 

Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away. 

Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him. 

Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet. 

“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.” 

Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?” 

“With your mate.” 

And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance. 

“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.” 

Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling. 

Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else? 

The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours. 

He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly. 

“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.” 

Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing. 

“My oblivious girl. Please.” 

“Azriel—” 

When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs. 

As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—

Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed. 

“You’re my—Azriel, you—” 

There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant. 

“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.

“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat. 

“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head. 

“You love Elain.” 

“I do not love Elain.” 

“And Mor?” 

“I do not love Mor, either.” 

You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.

Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else. 

But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others. 

Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.” 

“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused. 

“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded. 

“How long have you…” 

Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.” 

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—” 

Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.” 

Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.” 

This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.” 

There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by. 

“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.” 

When you didn’t answer, he kept talking. 

“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”

“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”

A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.” 

“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.” 

“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. 

“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.” 

You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.” 

“I love you,” he said. 

And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.

When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.” 

You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.

“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.” 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin. 

“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”

[aemondfairy]

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART FOUR

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: this is a long one, 3k ish words lol.

PART THREE | PART FIVE | NAVIGATION

A month before the extermination happens, Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell was sighing by the railings of the second floor balcony and overlooking the lobby of the hotel. So many things inside her mind, so many problems that she's not sure what to act on first. Her girlfriend is a former exorcist but she and Vaggie already talked it out so I guess that's one problem out of the way, Adam is bringing an entire legion of exorcists and they will be coming for her hotel first, and she has a half angel brother who seems to not like her!

Charlie sighed, running her hands through her scalp, feeling the strands of her blonde locks with her fingertips.

She stared at the balcony by the hallway of the second floor of the hotel, seeing the others renovate the hotel so that it'll be fit for battle. Charlie leans on the railings, looking down as they work. Unaware that Vaggie was approaching her from behind.

“So, when are you going to tell your dad?” Vaggie asked, making the blonde haired girl jump in surprise, “Ah fuck! You scared me...” Charlie says, placing a hand over her fast beating heart—from the surprise.

Vaggie muttered a quick apology and stood next to her, Charlie sighs.

“I don't know Vaggie, I still can't wrap my head around the knowledge that... I have a half angel brother in heaven.” Charlie says softly, eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. Vaggie's eyes softened, placing a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

“Dad didn't even tell me about it. Does this mean he had another wife aside from mom?” Charlie says sadly, starting to wonder if her dad cheated. The question is on who? Who's the first wife? She shakes her head, guilty for thinking that way about her own father.

Charlie can still recall how the older boy that was supposed to be her brother looked at her with such hostility in his [e/c] eyes despite the smile on his face, the tinge of sarcasm hidden by the gentleness of his voice as he spoke to her and Emily. It was unnerving to see such facial expressions on someone who is carrying the face of their father and it was directed at her.

“I am sure your dad had a reason why he didn't tell you, he probably didn't know.” Vaggie muttered softly beside her. Charlie sighs and nodded. Perhaps Vaggie is right, she needed to speak to her father to know the truth.

Charlie's eyes landed on Husk and Angel Dust who are busy hammering extra wood to the walls, the two men seem to be getting closer these days. It puts a smile on the girl's face.

“He probably does.” Charlie says with a forced smile, finally looking at Vaggie. “I'll go and speak to him about this, I want to tell him or hear him speak the truth.” she says softly, rubbing her hands together nervously at the thought of confronting her father.

Vaggie smiled at her, proud that her girlfriend is determined despite being so nervous about it. Vaggie patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly, “I am sure that it'll go well babe.” she says and Charlie nodded, “I hope so.”

Lucifer expected to have a fun father-daughter hangout when Charlie called him that morning telling him that she'll be visiting as she wanted to talk to him. What he didn't expect to see such a worried look on his daughter's face, slight bags underneath her eyes when he opened the door to the palace for her.

His father's instinct immediately kicked in as he sensed that something was bothering or worrying her.

The grin on his face lowered as he gently placed a hand over the girl's shoulder, ushering her inside the palace. They walked the hallways of their home, towards the living room where the father and daughter sat down on the couch. “Charlie, sweetheart. It seems like there's a lot on your mind right now. Do you want to talk about it...?” Lucifer asked softly before clearing his throat, laughing awkwardly. Of course she wants to talk about it, she really called you that she'll be visiting as she wanted to tell him something!

“I mean, hahaha of course you want to talk about it that's why you visited.” he says awkwardly in-between chuckles and Charlie just smiled, a small chuckle escaping her lips before letting out a tired sigh.

Lucifer's chuckles die down as his eyes soften as he looks at his daughter, he wonders how her meeting with heaven went. Did she meet the seven virtues? Or did she meet with Sera?

To this day, Lucifer still doesn't know who the seventh virtue is as the last time he had a meeting with them, they were absent—had some important matters to deal with on earth at that time, he does know the angel goes by the name Raphael. He hopes that it was Sera, despite knowing the said woman is... Eh... Still a bad choice but might as well choose the lesser evil or strict.

“Dad..?” Charlie softly calls out to him, avoiding his gaze. Lucifer's thoughts were cut off as he heard his daughter's voice call out to him, “Yes...?” he spoke softly.

Charlie took a deep breath, mentally preparing for this conversation. It's now or never.

“Dad, do I have a brother?” Charlie asked softly, voice shaking slightly.

That single question made his ears ring, countless thoughts running on his mind. A brother? What did she mean by that? He thought, nervous.

He looked at Charlie in confusion, clearly not knowing what she was talking about, “I'm sorry, what? What do you mean Charlie?” he asked softly and worriedly, his first thought is that his twin brother might've gotten married and had a son without him knowing and since he and Michael share the same face, he assumes Charlie met Michael's son or something.

Charlie looked at him, genuinely surprised that her father doesn't seem to know what she was talking about. Her dad doesn't know.

“I met someone up there dad, he told me he was my half sibling and told me we shared the same father. If only you could see the coldness in his eyes dad, how his eyes got colder when he talked about you.” Charlie says softly, squeezing her hands tightly. Her body trembling slightly in frustration.

Lucifer's eyes widened in revelation, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. It can't be... He thought to himself, his hand moving towards his lips in disbelief.

Don't tell me I left [y/n] while she was pregnant. I didn't even know she was pregnant!

He thought in horror, his skin turning paler at the thought. [Y/n], his first wife, his first love. He abandoned her for Lilith. He wonders if she was planning on telling him but didn't as he barely went home to her as he spent most of his time at the Garden of Eden.

Guilt. So much guilt.

After his fall he didn't stop thinking about her, regretting the choices he had made. Ending up burying his affections for his first wife as he knows he will be no longer seeing her again. Despite marrying Lilith, having Charlie, somewhere deep in his heart lies the love he still has for [y/n] that he chose to extinguish but very stubborn for him to kill the passionate fire for her.

Remembering her name is enough for tears to trickle down his cheeks, the teardrop passing by the red circles of his cheek.

Charlie looked at her father worriedly, he was silent for a few minutes and suddenly tears were streaming down his face.

“Dad...? Are you okay...?” she asked softly and worriedly, taking out her handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiped her father's tears away. This single act made Lucifer remember something, a distant memory when he was still in heaven.

“Do not cry my beloved, you know the elders are just like that. They are too closed minded to listen to new ideas, too scared to listen to your wonderful and beautiful ideas for creation.” [y/n]'s cooed softly at him, hand holding a handkerchief as she wiped his tears away after getting scolded by the elders. He was sobbing on her shoulders, upset about what happened but his wife is there, his wonderful wife always ready to comfort him.

“Promise that you won't leave me okay?” he asked in-between sniffles and [y/n] smiles and placed a kiss on his forehead, “I promise. You better promise to not abandon me too.” she says with a giggle and he nodded, locking their pinkies together in a promise, the wedding ring on their ring fingers shimmering against the radiant rays of the sun.

He broke that promise. He left her, he left her alone with their son.

That made more tears stream down on his cheeks, Charlie trying to calm him down and Lucifer sniffled and muttered a small thanks to her, opting to take the handkerchief and wipe his own tears away.

“No, but I will be.” he said, his voice raspy. He avoided his daughter's eyes, too embarrassed and guilty to look at her. “Did he tell you his name...?” he asked weakly and Charlie nodded, “Xavier Caeles.” she answered softly and his heart broke even more. Why wouldn't it? The last name is something he recognized, it's his first wife's last name. Caeles, which means heaven.

A single teardrop runs down his cheek. A smile filled with guilt was plastered on his beautiful face.

The realization that he was never there for his son, their son all throughout his life. Filled him with unimaginable guilt. He was never there for [y/n] nor there for his son, Xavier. What does he look like? Does he have the same features as him or is he a perfect combination between him and [y/n]?

Forget it, he hopes his son has [y/n]'s face, just imagining the pain the boy goes through every time he looks at a mirror and sees his face. Somewhere in Lucifer's heart knows that the boy, probably hates himself. He hopes he is wrong.

With a shaky breath, he gave Charlie a weak smile, “Xavier huh?” he says with a pained chuckle. His red orbs are downcast, filled with guilt. He doesn't even know the boy as he's absent from his life, [y/n] had to raise him alone and it's her first time being a mother too. He should've been there, he should've listened and stopped being so selfish and stubborn.

Charlie looks at him worriedly, placing a hand over his shoulder for comfort. “I hope you won't get offended by this dad but did you... Cheat on mom...?” she asked softly, he shook his head no.

“No... I didn't, not on your mother but... Your mother isn't my first wife...” he says softly, ashamed in admitting it. He didn't cheat on Lilith, he cheated on [y/n] with Lilith. He was such a fool. “I cheated on my first wife with your mother...” he says, voice cracking, “My actions cannot be excused but it is something I deeply regret and still do.” he added, wiping his tears away.

The gears on Charlie's head started moving, processing his words. Her dad married someone before her mom.

“... Why...?” she asks softly, squeezing his hands, Lucifer avoiding his daughter's eyes, “Your mother is such an amazing woman and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by her and in return, my feelings for my first wife were overshadowed by it.” he explained softly, guilt evident on his voice. His voice cracking, almost a whisper.

Charlie's eyes softened, her thumbs rubbing circles on her father's hand, “Do... Do you still love her...?” she asked softly.

Yes, he still does. He misses her every single day, a ghost of his past that is constantly haunting him, haunting him of his wrong choices in life.

With choked sobs, Lucifer nodded, “Yes, I still do...” he admits softly and Charlie smiles, even though it hurts to see her family split, she can move on. Her mother has already left and Charlie believes that her father deserves a second chance and she wishes that Xavier would get a second chance at happiness.

“I hope you'll get a chance to make things right, dad. You owe it to him, to them.” Charlie says softly, hugging the crying man.

“I hope I'll get that chance, Charlie... I owe it to them.” Lucifer whispers softly. Clenching his fists that he placed on his lap.

Xavier waited patiently for his mother to wake up, his mom just returned from work yesterday and is currently resting. He would've shared the tea with her if he didn't know any better but since he knows how tiring work in the human world is, he decided to let his mother rest. He doesn't want to add more to her plate.

Xavier took it upon himself to prepare breakfast, cooking some waffles and bacon for him and his mother.

Brewing her some coffee, he knows she loves it when he makes her coffee. Grabbing two white mugs to prepare the espresso shots, steaming some milk while he's at it too.

Finally done, he prepares the table, grabbing the white ceramic plates with gold accents and the spoon and fork made of gold. Arranging them on the table.

Now he waits.

[Y/n] soon emerged from the door to the dining room, already dressed up for the day. A flowy pastel purple dress that reaches her knees, her hair nearly brushed and styled.

Xavier got up from his seat on the table and approached his mother, giving the older woman a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning mother, I hope you were able to rest well last night.” he says softly and [y/n] giggles and places a gentle kiss on her son's forehead.

“I did my sweet sunshine,” she says with a smile, her eyes sparkling in happiness as she finally notices the breakfast that was already displayed on the dining table.

“Oh my! You already made breakfast? How sweet, thank you my sunshine.” she says with a small smile, her voice soft as she gently ruffles the boy's hair.

The mother and son duo sat across each other on the dining table, enjoying the dinner that Xavier had prepared.

Xavier was nervous, unsure how to talk about what happened a few days ago.

[Y/n] being a mother she is, sensed that something is bothering her son. Gently placing down the golden utensils onto the plate, the golden utensils making small clinking sounds as she did so. Lifting her head up away from the plate, she looked at Xavier worriedly.

“Is there something worrying you, my dear?” she asked softly and worriedly and Xavier sighed and nodded.

With a deep breath, he calms down his fast racing heart. “A few days ago... I met... Lucifer's... Daughter...” he says with a small whisper.

[Y/n] freezes up, it's been awhile since she last heard that name, the very man that kept haunting her, the man she kept looking for at every person she meets. Even after all these years, she never forgot him nor stopped loving him, despite the pain he has given her.

With a forced smile, she looked at Xavier, “Really? As expected.” she says softly with a smile but Xavier can see the pain in her eyes, it breaks his heart every time.

“You still love him, don't you...?” he asked her softly, already knowing the answer as she told him the answer before. Though, he doesn't know the reason why his mother never moved on.

“You already know but yes, yes I still do.” she says softly, her voice cracking. Xavier's eyes softened, placing down his own golden utensils onto his plate, the utensils clinking against the ceramic, the sound echoing off the white walls of the mansion that they call home.

“But why mother? Forgive me for being too forward but why do you keep holding on to him knowing how much pain he gives you unknowingly?” he asked softly, his voice cracking in emotions, desperate to know the reason why his mother loved the man so much.

[Y/n] took a deep breath, looking at his son's eyes, she has one reason why and she thinks it's time for him to know.

“Because my love for him is unconditional. Even though he broke my heart, I'll still love him because my heart is only his to break which is pathetic. My love for your father is never conditional, he could be off being happy to an another woman and I'll still love him, even if it hurts.” she explained softly and sadly and Xavier's heart breaks listening to her explanation, to her reason.

Despite him hating his father, hating his appearance. He yearns for fatherly love, he yearns for a complete family and he envies Charlie for having something that he wants to experience.

“Is that really your reason, mother?” he asked softly and she nodded, “I still love him, Xavier... I still really do.” she whispers softly.

“I understand, mother... Thank you for telling me.” he says in a whisper and [y/n] smiled weakly at him, “I am sorry for not being enough, I know that you yearn for a complete family and I wish I could provide you that but my commitment to your father is unchanging.” she says, ashamed.

She really wished that her stupid heart would stop loving the man who abandoned her and their son but it is too stubborn to let go. She tried therapy, she tried look for someone new and it all failed.

Lucifer held such a tight grip on her heart and just like she said, he can continue to break her heart and she won't stop loving him. But even so, she doesn't know how she'll react if she ever sees him again. Will she be scared? Will she have another panic attack in seeing him again? Will she freeze on the spot? Or will she run into his arms like nothing happened?

She didn't need to say it, anyone can tell that she developed major abandonment issues after her ex-husband left her. Constantly worried if she's doing okay, afraid that people will leave her if she's incompetent.

She even wonders if that was the reason he left, was she not doing enough as his wife? Was she that easily replaceable?

Xavier shakes his head, seeing his mother's distress face, standing up from his seat and takes a seat next to her mother, cupping his mother's face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears.

“No, mother... You're more than enough... I love you more than anything.” he says softly and kisses his mother's forehead.

“I love you too, my sweet child... Thank you for being such an amazing son of mine.” she says softly to him, giving Xavier a small smile, telling her about the extermination can wait, he doesn't want to add more to her problems.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[incognit0slut]

Sweet agony

After a tragic event, you believed you were unworthy of love. Spencer decided to prove you wrong.

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) fem reader, angst, explicit smut including fingering, unprotected sex

word count: around 3k

a/n: I did a poll the other day about writing angst with a sad or happy ending, most of you wanted a happy one. This is also written for @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings writing challenge.

"WHY CAN’T I LOVE YOU?"

The room held its breath as you met his gaze. You observed the glaze in his eyes, the tension in his muscles, and the subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple. The weight of unspoken truth hung heavy in the air, but instead of facing the question, you were surrendering to a different impulse.

Guilt and desire intertwined as you pushed him onto the mattress, letting the chaos in your mind take over. His body yielded to the unexpected force, and for a fleeting moment, you drowned out the unanswered question that lingered like a ghost.

Stress relief. Distraction. No strings attached.

That was what you agreed upon the first time you called him into your hotel room. What went on inside your head that night was a blur. But what stuck with you was the pain—not physical, but a lingering ache that your body still remembered from the way it bled tragically.

Working in law enforcement always came with risks, but being held captive and almost losing your life wasn't something you expected. The memories of the Unsub's touch on your skin, the scar he left behind, continued to churn bile in your throat even months after the tragedy. The repulsive was so strong you needed something else to distract you.

You needed someone else to distract you.

"Don't be gentle," was what you told him after you kissed him for the first time. The shock in his eyes was unmistakable—perhaps it was the rush of you making the move, or maybe it was the unspoken weight in your voice. Questions lingered in his gaze, a curiosity that always surfaced, but you knew how to silence him every time he opened his mouth.

Kiss his neck. Touch his skin. Grind your hips. Tell him how much you want to be ruined.

He hesitated initially, uncertainty clouding his expression, but eventually, he gave in because saying no to you seemed impossible. Despite convincing yourself that he was satisfied with this purely physical arrangement, you couldn't escape the undeniable truth. The hurtful look on his face lingered vividly in your mind after your first night together.

He had reached for you, and you backed away, flinching from his touch. It seemed cruel to deny him in one aspect while satisfying him in another, yet you craved the pain. And despite knowing that using sex as a coping mechanism wasn't the healthiest choice, or how denying his affection hurt him, he still came whenever you called.

He obliged to your needs without fail. He was at your mercy, caught in the complicated web of desire and restraint.

However, tonight was different. You told him to slip into your hotel room around midnight, the usual time you agreed to avoid any prying eyes. He came, as he always did, but there was something distinct in his posture. His eyes carried a deep pain, and when he spoke, you realized you could no longer avoid the inevitable.

"I can't keep doing this," he admitted, his voice breaking when you pulled him towards the bed.

Guilt swept through you but you couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck. Instead of offering an explanation, you remained silent, your lips inches away from his.

"Why won't you let me in?"

He looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of longing and confusion, and the next question escaped his lips like a plea.

"Why can't I love you?"

His body yielded to the unexpected force as you pushed him onto the bed, crawling on top of him. The weight of the moment pressed upon your heart, a heavy ache that mirrored the confusion etched on his face. His eyes, wide and stained with tears, bore into yours. You couldn't escape the reflection of your own glistening eyes, tears threatening to betray the emotions you tried to suppress.

Shaking away the tears, you pressed your body against him and shut your eyes until you felt his soft lips against yours. The softest lips, with the most careful movements, had you moaning into the kiss. The softest lips that had you gripping his shirt in desperation. Those soft, soft lips melded seamlessly with your own, creating a sensation that electrified every nerve in your body.

You had never questioned your state of mind, but this feeling right now, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, was too much to handle. It was confusing and consuming your mind how agony could taste so terribly sweet.

As if sensing your internal struggle, he gently eased your body onto the bed next to him, taking it upon himself to undress you. You quietly watched as he slipped you off your clothes, noticing the way his breath quickened when you were completely bare before him, exposed, vulnerable. His eyes swept along your naked body as he settled back beside you.

The moment you felt his fingers brush your inner thigh, your senses went haywire. Every time he touched you, your body came alive with a burning hot desire. Every time his fingers brushed your skin, electricity surged through each limb.

A gasp fell out your lips when his fingers slipped down your slit and ever so slightly you rolled your hips, begging for more without words. He wasted no time, giving you exactly what you needed as his fingers moved up and down your folds, working you up further.

His fingers finally found your clit and you gripped the bedsheets, feeling his touch ease over your delicate areas with care. He started slowly, massaging small circles into your wet flesh and you gave in the pleasure, warmth bursting throughout your body without warning. Your head fell back, thighs clasping around his hand, and you rolled your hips—whimpering, moaning, so breathless all at once.

He then buried his face in your neck and you felt his warm breath against your skin. His lips trailed down to your shoulder, soft and slow, and when his stubbled cheek brushed against your pebbled nipple, you let out another moan. He tipped his head up, swiping his tongue against it before giving it a slick suck.

You couldn't help but bury your hand in his hair at the sensation. He grunted his approval, opening his mouth just a touch wider and drawing your breast into his mouth. He leaned back with a suck, gaze heavy on yours as his tongue swiped across your nipple at the same time two of his fingers slid into your wet cunt.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as your legs fell apart even further. This was why you seek him. He could make you forget everything. In his arms, you could forget the weight of your worries, the complexities of your emotions, and the tangled web of desires and regrets that plagued your mind.

You were sure he felt the same way too. Despite the weight of his previous questions, they seemed to fade into the background, his focus shifted entirely to showering you with pleasure. His fingers began to work faster, drawing out every filthy sound from your body. It didn't take long until you couldn't hold back any longer.

His fingers began working in and out of your tightening walls once again just as his tongue flicked over your nipple. Your eyes screw shut until you were seeing white dots behind your lids while he continued to thrusts his fingers inside you. You were uncontrollably shaking as you took one final, deep breath before the pleasure consumed your entire body.

His name hovered on the tip of your tongue. Calling him Spencer felt too intimate, but calling him Reid felt distant, like a stranger's name upon your lips. In the end, you opted for neither, allowing your pleasure to be voiced through the raw intensity of your moan.

His response was immediate. He pulled his fingers away from your drenched heat but continued to work against your clit. The intensity of the moment consumed you, leaving you breathless as he gave you exactly what you wanted, testing your limits until you could hardly take it anymore and pushed his hand away.

When he finally pulled away from your body, a wave of dizziness washed over you, leaving you reeling in the aftermath of your orgasm. His lips lingered on your breast one last time before he slowly sat up. He started to peel off his clothes, piece by piece, each motion deliberate and unhurried. Your eyes flickered at the way his muscles tensed and flexed with each movement.

His physique wasn't exactly muscular, but the hard outlines of his body still captivated you. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, lingering on the way his chest rose and fell with the quickening pace of his breath, before trailing down the soft expanse of his stomach, tracing the tantalizing trail of hair that led further south.

It was right at this moment you would've pushed him onto his back like you always did, reveling in the thrill of being the one in control. Or sometimes you preferred him taking you from behind so he could pull your hair as he fucked you senselessly.

But tonight you were so captivated by him that when he slipped himself between your thighs, you didn't resist. Instead, you welcomed his proximity, the heat of his body melding seamlessly with your own. You also didn't protest when he pushed his cock inside of your heat, stretching you out, because the sensation had you whimpering and you found yourself holding onto his shoulders.

His motions were slow and gentle. He was careful as if he was still scared of doing something wrong even though this wasn’t your first time with him, but he took his time to enjoy the feeling of your walls clenching around him. And suddenly you wanted to submit to him, you gave in to him completely, letting him take over you entirely as he rocked his hips into you over and over.

He then grabbed onto one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder. You gasped as he pushed deeper in this position. He pulled away as he focused on the way his cock slid out of your wet cunt, leaving just the tip around your swollen lips, before thrusting into you again. He exhaled the heaviest breath when you clenched around him so tight that he couldn't help but dig his nails into the soft flesh of your thigh.

Heat flooded every inch of you each time he thrust into you, the tension coiled tighter as you tossed your head back. His eyes trailed between your connected bodies, watching the way his length moved inside you effortlessly with the way your arousal coated him.

"Y-You're so wet," he couldn't help but groan, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls over and over again. "God, you feel so good."

His words had you sitting up as you prompted your weight on your elbows, your eyes falling onto the way his cock disappeared inside you. You whimpered when he snapped his hips harshly, burying himself deeper and deeper from each of his thrusts before he picked up his pace. Surges of warmth began to course through you and you couldn't suppress your desperate moans.

And when you could barely stand the pleasure any more, he suddenly pulled your leg off his shoulder before wrapping it around his waist. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, holding you in place while he ruthlessly thrust in and out of you. Your mouth fell open as you were taken aback by his sudden pace, your eyes instinctively glancing over to meet his gaze.

His face hovered close to yours, the beads of sweat glistening against his skin. A furrow creased his brow, and despite the intensity of his movements, there was a raw vulnerability in those warm brown eyes that held you captive, drawing you in with their depth and intensity.

The pleasure and sensation washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your senses as his gaze bore into yours. The more he looked at you, the more overwhelming the sensations became, until finally, in a moment of pure ecstasy, his name slipped past your lips for the first time.

"Spencer," you breathed, the sound barely more than a whisper, but he heard you clearly.

His gaze softened as he listened to you. He listened to your body, the way you tightened around his length, the way you moaned and huffed each time he thrust at the right spot. And because your gaze held an intensity he had never seen before, he couldn't help but utter the three words he had been keeping to himself all along.

"I love you," he whispered, the words escaping his lips in a breathless rush.

Warmth spread in your chest and you finally snapped. Your back arched off the bed, nails digging into his arm, and your legs wrapped tight around his waist, taking every long, deep thrust of his cock until a final gasp spilled from your lips.

As the pleasure bubbled and erupted between your legs, surging throughout your entire, trembling body, he quickly began thrusting himself wildly into you. With his fingers gripping the back of your neck, he held you close to him, resting his forehead on yours as he fucked you through the explosion of bliss.

The warmth swelled to reach every limb before your body was coming down from the high, so beyond sensitive you couldn't even form words. He continued to thrust himself into your dripping, spasming walls with wild force before he finally lost control. He huffed out a groan, his brow creasing and his eyes screwing shut. He rocked into your body so deep for the last time, surrounded by your warmth squeezing him as he finally released inside of you.

He gently loosened his grip on you, allowing your body to fall against the bed seconds before he lowered himself beside you. Normally you would tell him to leave and he would quietly slip back into his clothes. But tonight was different.

Now, you both lay on the bed, side by side, watching each other in the dim light of the room. You could sense his desire to reach out and pull you close, but he held himself back, respecting the boundaries you had set. Yet, despite the distance, you could still feel the heat radiating from his body.

There was so much affection in his eyes, it would normally scare you, suffocate you even, but somehow you felt drawn to him. It was as if the barriers you had carefully constructed around your heart were slowly crumbling away, and you found yourself reaching out.

Your fingers traced his jaw, the rough stubble grazing your skin. His breath hitched for a moment as he watched you with a mixture of wonder and longing. Despite the hesitance in your touch, he welcomed your caress, allowing you to explore the contours of his face.

As your eyes met him, you saw a reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, and a wave of vulnerability washed over you. The tears welled up in your eyes, glistening with unspoken words and unshed emotions.

"I don't deserve you," you whispered, the words hanging in the air.

Spencer moved on instinct. He reached out to gently wipe away the tears that glistened in your eyes, his touch a soothing tenderness that stirred something deep within you.

"You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "You deserve everything."

How was he so perfect? How was he able to see the goodness in you when all you could see were your flaws and shortcomings?

As you looked into his eyes, filled with unwavering love and acceptance, you couldn't help but wonder why he continued to stand by your side despite everything. Why was he still here, offering his unwavering support and affection, even when you pushed him away and blamed yourself for the scars that marred your soul?

"Why..." The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, begging to be voiced aloud, but you hesitated, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. "Why do you care about me?"

This time, he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace and you found yourself leaning into him. "I care about you because you matter to me," he replied. "Because you're worth caring about."

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

"You deserve all the love in the world, you’re the most deserving person I know," he continued, murmuring against your hair. "I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be alone.”

A choked sob finally escaped you, the weight of his words hitting you with a force you couldn't grasp. You pushed yourself closer to him, seeking solace in the safety of his arms, letting him pull you even closer as his own voice trembled with raw emotion.

"So let me love you," he whispered, the words a plea and a promise rolled into one. “Please.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions that had been building inside you for so long. You cried for the lost time. You cried for him, for the way you had hurt his heart every time he showered you with affection he offered so freely and yet you had struggled to accept.

But most importantly, you cried for yourself, too—for the person you had been before the pain, for the scars that still lingered beneath the surface, and for the glimmer of hope that still burned within you despite everything you had been through.

With a silent nod against his chest, you finally surrendered as you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, you were worthy of love after all.

.

The prompts I used are along the line of Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event, and “You aren't alone in this. None of us are.” They’re kind of altered in this story but I think they have the same depth :)

[rafetopia]

𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

-𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

genre: smut & angst -> 18+!!

words: ~3k

warnings: dom!rafe & subby reader, prison sex, “public” sex in a sense you can be possibly watched and heard, (slight) daddy kink, (sexual) choking, hair pulling, blackmailing, bribery, mentions of an affair (not r & r), fingering, slight handjob, mentions of violence and tiny teeny bit of soft!rafe

summary: you visit your fiancé in jail after his arrest

note: i want to say big thank you to @rafesthroatbaby for giving me this wonderful idea (i really hope i did it justice) and to @rvfecamerons for beta reading and helping me improving this piece!!! love you guys to pieces!!

The moment you walked through the doors of the Kildare's Detention Center, you had all eyes on you. The way your cute little summer dress hugged your curves and emphasized your tits, combined with the pastel pink heels and the way you were carrying yourself, was just impossible for anyone to miss. You pulled out your phone and opened your camera, using it as a mirror to apply your lipstick. When your gaze met one of the officers, you gave him a genuine but exaggerated smile, before making your way over to him, making sure to swing your hips a little bit more than usual.

“Good afternoon, officer.” You smirked. “I’m here to see Rafe Cameron.”

“Mr. Cameron isn’t allowed any visitors. Have a nice day.” He bluntly spoke, not interested in any further interaction.

“Oh, but he sure is.” You smiled innocently, before leaning over the counter until you were really close to the man in front of you. “And you’re gonna let me see him.”

“And why is that?”

You smiled devilishly, as leaned towards the man, now only inches away from his face. “Because I’m sure you know who my family is and that I am capable of shredding every single one of you and your corrupt and very much incompetent colleagues to pieces if you don’t grant me that teeny tiny request to see my man..” You paused, “Starting with you and the little affair you have been going on with the mayor's wife.”

His expression shifted as he listened to your threads, knowing that you were indeed serious. You saw how he was fighting with his thoughts and he knew this was bad but he couldn’t risk you exposing the entire department and especially not his affair.

“Fine.” He mumbled as he looked from left to right, making sure that nobody was listening in. “Wait here.”

He came back around five minutes later and guided you towards what you assumed to be the room, where your fiancé was waiting. He was about to open the door when you stopped him.

“See, Officer Wilson, my man and I didn’t have a lot of privacy recently… so I need you to make sure that we will have that.”

“Absolutely not.”

You gave him a disappointed look before reaching into your bag once again. You pulled out a 100-dollar bill and stuffed it into his pocket, before leaning towards his ear. “See, if you would be so kind and look away…might even let you watch.” You smirked, causing him to turn bright red from embarrassment. “Keys?” You smiled, as you opened your hand. He reached onto his collar, removed one single key, and handed it to you. “See, wasn’t so hard, now was it?” You grinned.

You could tell Officer Wilson was beyond pissed that he got screwed by someone as young as you, a female to make it worse but that didn’t matter to you. You got what you wanted.

….

“Hello, baby.” You said the second he had closed the door behind you.

“(Y/N).” He chuckled softly. You were still standing next to the door, but you could see the tears building up in his eyes.

Your heart arched at the way he was looking at you, with teary eyes, tousled hair, and a bruised-up face. You were there when Officer Thomas buried his fist in your fiancé’s face, everyone was able to hear your screams and pleads for him to stop. Deputy Plumb had to physically hold you back and stop you from going full-blown crazy on her colleague, which resulted in you throwing violent threats at the whole police force that was there at that moment. Plumb even wanted to lock you into a cell until you calmed down but Shoupe warned her of the aftermath that would have been your father if she had taken action on her plan.

You took the seat in front of him and immediately held out your hands, for him to hold them. His hands were cuffed together with a light violet and blue line around his wrists, where the metal clung to his skin. You immediately went for the key in your fist and tried to open it.

“How did you convince them to let you in? Alone to give you the key?” He asked surprised but deep down he knew he shouldn’t be. He knew how convincing and resourceful you were, it was one of the many things he loved about you.

“You know I have my ways.” You smirked at the satisfying click of the cuffs. The second his hands were free, you took them into yours and softly caressed his bruised skin. They had them way too tight and you were pretty sure they knew that.

“You do.” He chuckled. “I miss you.”

“I’m here now.” You whispered softly, trying to suppress the tear that was building up in your eye.

You wanted to say that you wouldn’t leave him again but you both knew that would’ve been a lie. The way he held on to your hands was enough for you to jump up, walk around the table, and climb onto his lap, where you gently pressed his head onto your chest.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You smiled, “I made sure of that. Now come here.”

He leaned his head back onto your chest and buried his face into your dress. It didn’t take long until you felt his tears through the thin fabric of your dress, followed by quiet sobs leaving his mouth. It was only with you, that he would ever let himself go like that but he hated it, he hated every single second of it. He knew how much it broke you to be apart from him and he hated to be the cause of your suffering. He never wanted it to go this way, he never wanted anyone to get hurt but most of all, he never wanted for you to get hurt.

After a few minutes, he quickly got himself back together and looked into your eyes. They were soft and kind but had an evil spark in them, which was the perfect reflection of your personality. He saw how much you tried to stay strong for him, he saw how much you fought back your tears and he couldn’t have that. He needed to be the strong one, the one who protected you and was there when you needed him, not the other way around. But at this moment, he couldn’t and you knew that. His tears had dried by now, just as quickly as you were used to it with Rafe.

You leaned in for a kiss, which started out soft and gentle but the more you both realized how you had missed each other's lips, the more passionate and hungry it became. Your hand was resting on his chest, as his hands were wandering down your back to your ass until they slipped under your dress. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, a feeling that you had missed so much. You felt his hardened bulge between your legs, begging for your touch. You let your hand slide into his pants, the thin material being easy to be pushed aside, and started caressing him. He moaned out quietly at the feeling of your fingers dancing around his tip, trying to not get the attention of the officers. Normally he wouldn't give a single fuck about anyone hearing the two of you, but in a setting like this, he would rather die than have you pulled away from him.

He pushed away the material of your barely existing thong, and slid inside two of his fingers, causing you to let out a loud moan. His other hand quickly flew towards your mouth, making you unable to make another sound.

“Quiet princess, you don’t want them to hear us, right?” He breathed into your ear.

You gave him a quick nod, a silent promise for you to try and stay quiet. He started moving his fingers again as you slid your hand up and down his shaft, first slowly but then faster and faster, until it became hard for him to stay quiet. He let out another moan and this time it was you, who put her hand on his lips.

“Seriously?” You whispered, one eyebrow raised.

He then pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, leaving a satisfied grin on his face. “You have no idea how much I missed your taste on my lips, baby.”

You smirked, before hopping onto the table behind you. The metal was cold on your bare skin, sending goosebumps all over your skin. “I would love to feel your tongue on me baby but…” You started, “But I need to feel you inside of me because…” You stopped, looking up into your fiancé's eyes.

“But you don’t know when we will be able to do this again.” He finished, a tone of sadness washing over his voice. “I don’t want to think about that right now, princess.” He smiled, before reaching into his pants and pulling out his dick. “I love you.” He whispered against her lips, before aligning himself with your entrance.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Everything you want, baby.”

“I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to get you out of this. That I will never give up on you. I want you to know that we will be able to do this again, but right now, I really need you fuck me like we won’t.” You paused, “I need you to fuck me like it’s gonna be the last thing you will ever do. Can you do that for me?”

“Trust me, princess, once I’m done with you, you will barely be able to walk out of here, leaving my DNA all over the floor of this building.”

Before you could even respond, he had his hand on your neck and pushed himself into you. You wanted to moan out at the feeling but his grip around your throat tightened so much, it was hard for you to get any sounds out. He started off slow and gentle but quickly became faster, as he thrusted into you. He clashed his lips onto yours, as your fingers dug into his shoulders. you didn’t realize it, but your hands moved up to his neck where your nails dug deep into his skin. He felt so good inside of you and since you weren’t allowed to make any noise, your energy just had to go somewhere.

“Just… just like that baby.” You whispered, trying so hard to keep your voice down.

He smirked and thrust into you even harder. With every thrust, he hit that sweet spot of you and you could already sense that familiar feeling in your stomach building up. He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, so he pulled out, causing you to protest.

“Why…” You pouted, disappointment written all over your face.

“Turn around.” He demanded, without giving you any reasoning.

You did as told, jumped from the table, and turned around. With a swift motion, Rafe had buried himself in your walls once again, without any warning. Your nails dug into the cold metal of the table, and you were sure if you applied just a little bit more pressure, they’d break.

Your face was directed towards the door and windows now, making everyone who chose to look inside able to look directly into your face. The danger of being walked in by an entire police force, combined with the deep and ruthless thrusts of Rafe’s hips, was enough to almost send you over the edge. Your gaze was fixated on the window, where you could see the back of Officer Wilson’s head, who was standing guard just like you told him to.

“Harder please!” You moaned out louder than intended.

Your lack of quietness seemed to have caught the attention of the guard, who had now turned around and granted himself a peak through the glass. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but smirk, as you let your head fall back into Rafe’s neck. He also seemed to have noticed what was going on and he would’ve lied if he said it didn’t turn him on even more. The grin on his face was enough for the now embarrassed Officer to turn around again, desperately trying to hide the blush on his face.

“I thought, I told you to stay quiet…fucking brat…” He growled, as he took a chunk of your hair and pulled your head back, so he could reach your ear more easily. “You’re gonna be the death of both of us I swear.”

You were sure he saw how you were smirking at the officer from the reflection of the windows, but that only made it more fun. You loved doing shit like this and he knew that. But you also knew how good he was at punishing you and most definitely could not risk him leaving you dry, not tonight.

“Mh sorry.” You cried out.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, daddy.” You repeated, “Gonna be good now, promise.”.

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, before ripping off your thong. “Just to be sure.” He added as he stuffed the piece of fabric into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on your thong and if you were being honest, you really were fucking delicious. His thrusts became harder and harder now, hitting your G-spot every time he pounded into you. But it wouldn’t be Rafe Cameron if he wouldn’t add at least one finger to the party, in order to send you completely over the edge. He placed his index finger on your clit and started massaging it, while his other hand started to taunt your ass relentlessly.

“Being such a good girl for daddy, doing such a good job.” He cooed into your ear, but you were barely able to hear his words, as your mind had drifted far, far away. “Taking me so perfectly.” He added as he thrust himself even deeper into you, with more force and less mercy.

He knew it was loud but he had long stopped caring. All his sorrows had left his body, the second he could feel your walls around him. His soul might have been broken, as he got ripped off every ounce of control he had over himself and his surroundings, but when he was inside of you, it was like you handed it all right back to him. At this moment, his hand now back on your hip and his other on your clit, he had all the control over not just your body, but also over his own, as he thrust into you deeper and deeper. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and there was no doubt that Officer Wilson heard it too.

The harder and faster he went, the harder he felt not just your walls tighten around him, but also his dick twitching beneath them. He knew the both of you were close so he sped up his pace once again, ramming himself into you with every ounce of strength he had left inside him. Your vision turned blurry as you felt tears stream down your face and your release rushing over your body like a bomb exploding inside of you. Rafe came close behind, shooting his load deep inside of you.

He stayed like that for a second, his arm wrapped around you, as he rested his head on the back of your shoulder. As the two of you tried to catch your breath, reality swamped over your mind like a hurricane. You pulled your thong out of your mouth and wiped away the black tears that had stained the table beneath you. You then set yourself up and turned around, where you found Rafe fixing up his pants. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the pain that he had been surprising for the last seven minutes and it tore your heart apart once again.

He softly wiped away the tears that had stained your beautiful face, but he wasn’t able to get it all. He knew the tears weren’t coming from a sad place originally, but he also knew that these very much could’ve been the tears you had been suppressing since the moment you stepped foot into the room.

“Hey.” He said softly, as he wrapped his hands around your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled, as you took his hand in yours. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.” You added before getting interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

You rolled your eyes at the sign, making the boy in front of you laugh. “It’s okay.” He whispered, “Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine.” He paused, “All I need is for you to be happy.”

“Baby hell is gonna freeze over before I’m letting you rot in this cell. Besides, how dare you, believe that I could ever be happy without you by my side.”

He smiled softly, before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He then took the handcuffs from the table and handed them over to you. “Rather have you do it than any of those assholes.”

“Kinky.” You chuckled, before placing them around his wrist. You made sure to make them loose enough, so he would still be able to move them around, without his wrists bruising up. “Here, keep this, you’re gonna need it.” You said as you got the ripped piece of fabric, that used to be your underwear and stuffed it into his pants, careful so it wouldn't be visible.” Rafe grinned at that gesture of you, knowing this, and the memory of you and the past few minutes would be the one thing keeping him sane for what was about to come.

“Till death do us part?”

“Till death do us part.”

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[heart-eyed-love]

Cigarettes, Driving Lessons, And Hurt Feelings

Summary | Eddie gets his feelings hurt when you go to someone else to help teach you how to drive. Even more so when its Steve Harrington.

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing, mentions of having a period, jealousy, bad driver Eddie (hopefully i didn’t forget anything)

Word count | 3k

Cigarettes.

That was the only thing Eddie thought he’d be getting from the gas station. He didn't expect to be getting his feelings hurt there too.

He was already pulling a cigarette out of the pack once he exited the store. It was hanging loosely from his lips as he began to pull his lighter out, but he was quickly distracted by Steve Harrington's BMW parked across the lot.

He could tell it was Steve’s from the copious amount of times he had seen him come pick up Dustin from hellfire. And he’s definitely heard plenty about him.

Ever since Dustin had joined hellfire Steve has been a recurring topic in his life. Eddie had to sit through many lunch periods with Dustin babbling about how ‘cool’ and ‘badass’ Steve Harrington was. It was beyond annoying to be honest.

It made him more upset to see you so interested in these stories. The idea of one of his closest friends being enamored by the stupid stories of a douche was not something he was very keen on.

And especially since you’re already friends with Robin Buckley, who weirdly had sparked up a friendship with the king of himself. He always wondered if Steve ever tagged along on your outings with Robin.

You hadn’t informed him that he was your designated driver for just about all of them.

He wasn’t entirely sure when Steve started hanging out with all the freaks of Hawkins but he didn’t like the positive attention Steve was suddenly gaining from people who weren’t a part of the dark side.

So Eddie took it upon himself to be a pain in Steve’s ass every time he could.

A shit eating grin spreads across his face as he begins walking up from behind. Putting the cigarette away again.

As he approached the drivers side of the car, he noticed it wasn’t the side of the back of Steve's head he was walking up on. He slowed his pace.

Shit. Maybe this wasn’t his car?

But when the head in the seat moved just enough for Eddie to gauge the fact that it was you his eyes widened for a second.

Since when did you drive?!

Wait- Since when did you hang out with fucking Harrington!?!

The smirk that was once on his face was now lost at the sight of you in Steve’s car. Unfortunately, he had gotten close enough for you to see him. 

You turned your head at the sight of someone approaching in your peripheral vision. Surprised to see Eddie slowing his walk once he saw you. You nervously turned your head to Steve in the passenger seat and then back to Eddie, before rolling the window down.

“Uh- hey, Eddie. What’s up?” Your voice came off a little more nervously than you intended and you slightly cringed at yourself.

“Since when did you start driving?” Right to the point, you think. You could tell by the look on his face he was already a bit displeased with the situation at hand.

Eddie had offered to help teach you to drive multiple times, and you were always really grateful for that, even though you denied him every time. Never really explaining to him why not, but he never asked either.

“Yeah, uh- Steve offered to teach me so I took him up on it.” The awkward smile felt even weirder on your face when it’s directed at him. You and Eddie weren’t like this with each other.

Sure maybe at the beginning of your friendship you were awkward with each other, but that was a sweet awkward, this was an uncomfortable one.

Steve's head pops into Eddie's view with an awkward smile.

“Hey, man…” Steve says awkwardly, but somehow he still has that charm to him. Eddie straightens his body out slightly, trying to make himself bigger than he really is. Steve chuckles softly to himself as he leans back into his seat.

The small interaction going unnoticed by you as you fidget with your earring, waiting for Eddie to say something again. He was kind of making you feel like you had done something wrong, maybe you had…

It wasn’t anything personal, if you could have anyone teach you anything, you’d pick Eddie.

But just maybe not for this. 

Driving already freaked you out, and it didn’t help that the person who was offering to teach you was probably one of the most hectic drivers you knew.

You honestly had a really hard time believing he actually passed his drivers test. The way he flops you around in the passenger seat as he turns corners was enough to tell you if you were going to be taught how to drive, it wasn’t going to be by him. 

“Hey.” Eddie said, eyes flicking to Steve then back to you. You couldn’t tell exactly what he was feeling. It was making you feel weird, it was usually so easy for you to tell. “I’ve told you multiple times I could teach you how to drive.” 

You cringe a bit at his tone. And you are only able to come up with a lame excuse as your rebuttal. “Oh, yeah… I forgot…” Shit. You sound so fucking lame right now.

“Yeah, whatever…” He rolls his eyes as he looks over to the side before looking back to you. “I gotta get going, meeting up with Hellfire…” He says, but it’s a lie. He usually he would be eager to invite you with but, he wanted to make you feel bad, like how you just made him feel. “See you later.”

And he already walking away before you can even say ‘bye’ back, eyebrows furrowing as you watch him walk away and out of your view.

“Later man.” Steve shouted out so Eddie could hear him and he watched him walk away through his side mirror. “That was…interesting.”

You look over to Steve, “Do you think he’s mad?” You ask and the look of distress on your face goes unnoticed by Steve, who is still looking in the mirror watching something.

“Are you kidding?! he’s fucking pissed…” Steve giggles slightly, but hears a groan from you as you slump down in the driver's seat and he snaps his gaze to you. “Hey, I mean it’s not your fault…”

“Yes, it is. He offered to teach me so many times, I just- I didn't think he’d be upset…” 

Steve puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, and smiles. “Why do you think Dustin has me picking him up instead of having his new best friend, Eddie? Cause i think we all have gathered Eddie isn’t the most expertise driver…”

You roll your eyes, and a small smile spreads on your face as you look up at Steve. “You do realize that Dustin talks you up so much to us, right? Like I’m pretty sure the whole hellfire table has heard just about every cool thing you’ve probably ever done? He told us how badass you are…” Steve seems slightly taken aback by that.

He knew Dustin hadn’t told them everything, but the fact that he still thought he was cool enough, even without talking about his experiences with the upside down. It bumped his ego up.

“Henderson said that…?” A small smile tugs at his lips as well.

“Yeah, he really looks up to you. I think it pisses Eddie off…” You let out a small giggle and Steve's smile spreads fully. You could tell that definitely helped boost his ego a bit.

“Yeah, well I hear plenty about him too, so… the feelings are mutual.” You giggle at that. “So, do you feel okay with continuing the lesson?” You nod your head. Might as well, right.

Even with the slight hiccup in your plan, Steve’s stays dedicated and continues helping you with practicing. Though, you have a tough time getting Eddie out of your head.

And Eddie is already half way through town, speeding to get back home before you guys even pull out of the lot.

Recklessly driving down the gravel road of the trailer park. Nearly knocking his neighbors mailbox out from its spot again. Hastily parking his van in front of the trailer and slamming his door shut.

He was less than quiet when he walked inside. Unfortunately, for the older man that resided in the living room, sleeping the day away, over tired from his night shifts. “You could at least try and be quiet.” Eddie heard his uncle mutter from the couch in the dark living room, as Eddie threw his keys onto the counter.

“You were gonna be up in fifteen minutes anyways…” Eddie grumbled as looked at the clock before opening the fridge. Pulling out a beer for himself, and popping the lid off, then chugging some down.

“Kinda early for that isn’t it?” Wayne questioned as he began to rise on the couch where he had previously passed out. Lean against the back of the coach as he observed his nephew. Eddie just grumbled out a sound and Wayne eyed him harder.

“What’s the matter. What’s got ya actin’ all pouty?” His uncle finally asks.

“I’m not being pouty.” Eddie says back defensively, scrunching his face, his uncle’s eyes widened slightly and he chuckles.

“Yeah, sure you’re not…” Wayne chuckles again before heading off to the bathroom, and Eddie rolls his eyes. All he wanted to do right now was smoke a joint and lay in his room and stare at the ceiling.

So, that’s exactly what he did for the rest of the night. Just sitting on the fact that you were finally being taught how to drive… by someone other than him. And Steve Harrington nonetheless.

Would you still let him drive you around?

You finally pull into your driveway, parking Steve’s car.

“So… what’s the verdict?” You ask as you look over to him. 

“Honestly, you’re doing pretty good out there, we could just do like one more lesson, just to make you feel better though…” It was nice to hear. You’ve had about 3 lessons with him before this one, so yeah, it was nice to know you were getting better.

“Yeah, okay. That works…” You smile but it’s not fully, and Steve can tell something’s off.

“I promise you’ll do good, you don’t have to worry. You’re already natural…” He offers you a smile, comforting you for the second time that day. Wow, you felt pathetic.

“Thanks, but- I’m just nervous about Eddie…” You admit. The thought that Eddie could actually be upset with you right made your nerves rise.

In all of the time of you being friends you guys hadn’t really had any problems. Sure you bickered and teased, but that’s all in good fun. That’s part of what made you like him, like really like him, you weren’t like that with anyone else.

“It’ll be fine, I'm sure he’s just butt-hurt, teaching someone to drive is a big step…” He says as he begins unbuckling and opening up the passenger door. You rush to turn his car off and hop out as well.

“A big step…?” You ask as you round the hood of the car to meet him.

“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of a special thing, you know… it’s like we’re sending you off into the world…” He teases you with a chuckle and ruffles your hair.

You shove his arm away with playfully scoff.

“I’m just learning how to drive, it's not that deep…” You blush slightly.

“Yeah, well I'm sure he’s just worried that you aren’t gonna need him to drive you around or whatever, and he’s upset that he wasn't even the one who got to send you out…” He is still teasing you but his words somehow hit you deep. 

Shit. You just realized Eddie wasn’t gonna be driving you around everywhere anymore…

“Maybe I should apologize to him…” You admit softly.

“I mean, if that’s what feels right, then yeah, I'd say do it. It can’t hurt, I'm sure it’ll make him feel better about it…”

You nod your head softly, looking up to meet Steve’s eyes. “You know, thanks for all your emotional support today, you’re one of the last people i’d expect to get it from, but thanks…” You giggled as Steve’s brows furrowed for a second trying to hold back his smile.

“Yeah, whatever…” He says walking back towards the driver's side of his car. Smiling when you can’t see his face and he spins the keys around his finger. “One more lesson, then you’re off to take your drivers test, got it?” 

You smile and nod your head when he faces you. He gives a nod back before hopping back into his car, waving as he pulls out of your driveway.

You head back inside. Going over in your head what to say to Eddie. 

You settled on apologizing to him tomorrow at school. Doing it over the phone felt wrong.

The next day when you walk into the school building you wait for Eddie by his locker. He’s usually pretty slow at getting to school, it wasn’t surprising that it was taking awhile.

But then the bell rings and he still hasn’t arrived and you worry that maybe today is one of the days he decided to skip, and you wouldn’t be able to apologize.

You make your way to your first hours and through your other classes, leg anxiously bouncing throughout the day.

When you walk into your fourth hour and see Eddie sitting towards the back of the class you’re surprised. 

Wait?

He actually showed up today?

Was he avoiding you?

The seats around him have already been taken so you settle for the seat two over from his. He acknowledged as your eyes met when you walked towards your seat. But nothing was said.

As class went on you kept glancing over at him. He was actually writing down the notes the had written on the board.

Until the most recent glance over when you realize he's standing up from his desk and walking towards the teacher, asking to use the bathroom and the teacher waving him off with the flip of his hand.

And Eddie walked out of the classroom. This was your chance.

Were you gonna corner him? Yes. But you wouldn’t have to if he hadn’t been avoiding you.

A couple minutes pass you and stand from your seat, walking up to the teacher just as Eddie did.

“May I please use the restroom?” You ask as politely as you can, hoping he doesn’t apply the one person in the bathroom at a time rule.

“Once he gets back.” He muttered, writing something onto the board.

Fine. Time to pull out the big guns.

“Well, I'm actually having lady problems right now, so-“ He cuts you off with a more frantic wave of his hand as he motioned you your access to leave the room.

Once you exit the classroom you’re started by a voice next to you. “Lady problems?’ Eddie questions from next to you where he leans against the lockers. 

“I wanted to talk to you…” You say softly, as you approach him.

“I could tell, you kept looking over at me.”

You feel your cheeks burning slightly. 

Did he notice you do that all those other days too?

“You’re avoiding me.” You state simply, hoping maybe he’ll elaborate before you apologize.

“I wasn’t.” He says back, but your eyebrows furrow and he knows you know.

“Look, Eddie… I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings with all that driving stuff… I didn't mean to…” You finally admit, and you can see him soften slightly. Surprised by your apology.

“I just don't understand, I've offered to teach you…” His voice is soft, you've only ever heard it like that when he's talking to you. It makes you feel special to have such a privilege. “Or you just want Steve to teach you?” And sweet moment over, tone shifting slightly to accusatory.  

You roll your eyes, of course this was about being petty with Steve. “Eddie, I don’t care who teaches me to drive. I would, you know, just prefer to be taught by a good driver…”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your words, “I’m a good driver.” And you have to suppress the giggle that wants to slip from your lips. He notices though, and it only causes him to get more defensive, somehow furrowing his brows more. “Hey! I'm a good driver.”

“Dude,” Eddie narrows his eyes at the word, “You’re literally the most reckless driver I know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you going the speed limit.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I choose to drive that way, that doesn’t mean I can't drive well.”

“Well, this is news to me.”

There's a silence between you two as you stand in the hallway. You came out here to apologize, but you don’t feel like you’re doing a very good job at it. “Look, I am sorry, okay… I’m not trying to make you feel bad… Obviously I'd rather you teach than Steve.”

Eddie's features soften slightly. He knows that he’s being a pain in the ass, but he just couldn’t help getting his feelings hurt from the whole ordeal.

“I'm sorry…” Is all he knows to say. He's not always good with his words, he'd like to elaborate more on how he feels, but he doesn’t really think he can without making the big confessing.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know it was a shitty move on my part, but I promise the only reason Steve is teaching me is because he has the driving skills of a mother with a baby on board...” You tease slightly, hoping the mood had shifted enough to be playful with him.

“I can be more careful, and I could teach you…” His voice is soft.

“I’m sure you could, but Steve’s taking me out driving one last time and then I’m going to take my test.” You smile softly up at him, and he rolls his eyes again. But you know him well enough to know it means nothing.

“Well…” He starts out raising his eyebrows and tilting his head at you, you raise your back in return, already worried for what he's about to request.

So here you are on a new day, opening the driver's door to Steve’s car and plop into your seat, prepared for your final driving practice before your test. You look over to Steve in the passenger seat with a smile. Then to the back seat where Eddie seats in the middle, leaning forward, sticking his head between the two seats.

“Ready?” You ask, smiling over at him, “You might wanna take some notes.”

[luveline]

𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel have different definitions of the same word. he finally gives in to temptation —featuring a cranky but lovesick miguel and a flirty, head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This has to be your favourite song in the whole world. 

You sit in the hall beside the entrance to Miguel's office (this week, you're thinking you might call it The Bedroom, on account of all the magic happening inside), headphones on, a bottle of lemonade beside you. 

Today has the makings of a great day. You're at the Spider Society headquarters and not at home, for starters, and one of the Peter Parkers you'd made friends with in the med-wing saw you this morning and recognised you, which is brilliant because he looked super similar to every other Peter Parker you've met. He offered to help you fix your rinky-dink headphones, and now they're working again and loud enough to cover the sound of Spider Chatter, even with your enhanced senses. 

What's more, Miguel has finally emerged from his dormitory, and he's walking toward you looking confused. That's a step up from unhappy. 

He asks you something. 

"What? I can't hear you." 

He says something else. You shake your head, music too loud to catch even a hint of what he's saying, and Miguel eventually crouches down to push your headphones around your neck. He's surprisingly gentle. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"Waiting for you, what did you think I was doing?" 

"Why are you sitting on the ground?" He gestures backward to a red-lit control panel. "Chair right there." 

"I think that's someone's desk." 

"It's really not." 

Miguel stands up and doesn't hesitate to grab your arms and help you up too. It means more to you than it should, because it's not necessary and a few months ago he wouldn't have bothered. Which isn't to imply that Miguel is a mean guy, Lyla says he used to be a loser (code for sweetheart), and you get flashes of it every now and then in chivalry and kind smiles. 

He's not mean, he's cranky. 

"Don't sit on the floor," he says. "Just– just go inside if I'm not here." 

"Well, The Bedroom doesn't come when I call." 

Miguel's lips part in confusion for a second. Lyla appears at his shoulder, and says, "She can't get the platform to come down without you, genius." 

"Put her name on the command list," Miguel says. 

Your eyes widen. Lyla flashes to his other side, closer to you, and smiles playfully. "Done." 

"Stop sitting on the floor," Miguel says, turning around. He walks a few steps and pauses when he realises you're not following. "Are you coming with me?" 

You jog to catch up with him. Music plays against your collar, a slinking, indie sound that makes Miguel wrinkle his nose. You turn it up a little bit and smile when he glares at you. 

You enter the atrium that houses The Bedroom. Miguel hops up onto the platform because he's too tall to see sense while you struggle, but you're pleased when he takes your hand and pulls you up properly. All these familiar touches today, anyone might think Miguel liked you. 

He definitely does. 

You sit down in the spinning chair near what you've decided is your desk but certainly isn't, again pleased beyond words when you find your sketchbook from last time still there, cleaned away carefully, pencils in a pot and a brand new pencil sharpener by the side of it. It matches your spider suit. You look over your shoulder, your face lit up with thanks, and Miguel swiftly looks away from you. 

"It's electric. Tell me when the battery's dead, I'll charge it." 

"Thank you," you say, flipping your sketchbook open to the last entry. 

You aren't Picasso, but most members of the Spider Society are somewhat artistically inclined, considering the suit-making rite of passage they must all endure —if you don't know how to sew before you start, you will by the end. 

Or like Miguel, you could cheat and make the suit out of nanotechnology. 

You haven't really been designing any suits lately. Spidering is tiring, you need to relax, and your reluctant friends are the easiest subjects, though Miguel's face is painstakingly difficult to get right. He's very angular, high cheekbones with that divot that needs kissing stat, and his nose… He's really pretty, but you almost wish he wasn't so your sketches of him held a better likeness. 

He's the only one of the regular crew that stands still long enough to be drawn. Jessica doesn't like you (or maybe she does, it's hard to tell, but she hasn't forgiven you for asking if her baby was like a maraca bead when she fights) so she doesn't let you draw her. Lyla will stand very still if you request it, but after a few portraits she got bored and started changing her hair or glasses, and after a few more she gave up. Margo is hard to focus on because her blue light makes everything else seem super orange, though she does stand in one place usually. She takes up a lot of pages, but it's Miguel you've drawn most of all. 

You go around the Spider Society sometimes asking people if they'll sit for you, but again your skills aren't impressive, so it's awkward when they want to see how you've done. There are drawings of all kinds of Spiders, including yourself, between Miguel, and Miguel, and Miguel. 

His back, the side of his face, his hands ungloved. His pointy bottom teeth mid fight. The naked stretch of his arm and his Rapture injector positioned over it. He might not appreciate that one. You rip it out and toss it in the waste paper basket under your desk, where it incinerates, paper smoke curling up toward the extractor fan on the atrium ceiling. 

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you, his gaze on one of his marigold coloured monitors. 

"Drawing." You're not drawing so much as sitting there with a coloured pencil in hand, trying to think of conversation starters. "What are you upto?" 

"According to the program, there are no Canon events today at risk of disruption," Lyla chimes in, "so Miguel's doing chores." 

"What, not one bad thing is gonna happen today?" you ask. 

"Nothing we can predict," Miguel says. 

You swap your pencil for your drink, unscrewing the lid of your lemonade to sip at it leisurely. Today is your favourite kind of day. No fighting, lots of time with Miguel, and music to go with it. You're so happy you could melt. 

Miguel turns to you and sees your stickying smile. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Just happy to be here with you," you say.

"Don't say stuff like that," he says, turning back to his screen. 

"Scared you'll actually experience sincerity?" Lyla asks. 

"Lyla," he warns, as though Lyla might be afraid of any consequence he had the power to inflict. 

"Sorry," you say, not very sorry, but not wanting him to be uncomfortable, "it's just nice, being friends with you."

"We aren't friends." 

You're not quick to take offence with Miguel. He can be cruel. He's hurting, he's unhappy, he has a lot on his plate. Oftentimes he's so tense with apprehension his neck locks up and you hear it clicking as he turns one way or another, or if he isn't apprehensive he's disappointed, furious, upset. You give him the benefit of the doubt because you know him, but you don't know the tone of voice he uses now. It's like he's offended at the insinuation. Like he would never, ever be friends with you. 

You put your lemonade on the desk and don't know what to do. His insipid floating platform is too high now to leave without causing a scene. Maybe when he's busy you can web down and go home. All you know is that you desperately don't want to be near him. But home sucks, and the dormitories are worse. You're stuck. 

"You can be so mean," you say softly, turning back to your sketchbook and pencils. 

You're thinking you might draw him with a bunch of bee stings, or find a previous sketch and cross his eyes out.

"What?" he asks. 

Your hackles rise. "You're mean. Don't talk to me." 

"What?" Miguel stands very still. "Y/N, what?" 

"What do you mean, what? I said something nice and you said something cruel. I get it, okay, we aren't friends, so don't talk to me." 

"I've upset you." 

You stare at your blank page. "It doesn't matter." 

"No, I've said the wrong thing." 

"Miguel, don't bother. What else could you mean by that?" You laugh with little humour. Crestfallen doesn't begin to describe how you feel. "I'll be quiet. I just don't want to be at home." 

"What's wrong with home?" 

"Is there ever much right?" 

"Did something happen?"

"We aren't friends, so why ask me?" 

You bite the inside of your lip as Miguel approaches, his footfall hushed over the lightweight metal flooring. You turn to him in your chair, head tilted back to meet his eyes, arms crossed over your stomach defensively. 

"That's not what I meant when I said that." He speaks slowly, firmly, to avoid any misunderstanding. "What's wrong with home, mi cielo?" 

You tap his ankle with your shoe, looking away from his gaze. You don't want to tell him, and if he keeps looking at you like that, you will.

"¿Qué pasó?" He bends at the waist slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," you murmur.

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"Nothing happened, it's just– it's lonely there," you say, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his sudden caring. "What's with you? One minute you're not my friend, the next you're worrying about me? You're giving me whiplash." 

He stands up, and his face falls back into a more typical emotionlessness. He's clearly feeling something, but he's wiping the slate clean. 

"When I said we aren't friends, it didn't mean–" He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying in the women's dormitory?" he asks, frustrated.  

"I am, but I'm useless, and they don't really respect me because I'm–" 

"Eccentric?" 

"–not as experienced," you finish, eyes flaring. 

"Oh, my god," Lyla says, appearing in front of him to make sure he sees her delight at his slip up. 

Miguel bats her hologram with an annoyed grunt. She disappears again, her tinkling laughter cut short.

"It's a good thing," Miguel says quickly.

You stand up. "It's not the point." 

"You should feel at home in the dormitory, and if you don't, I'll find you somewhere else to stay here, you don't have to be in there if you don't feel welcome."

"Miguel, you're sounding awfully friendly right now." 

"We aren't friends," he says again, stepping closer to you. "What's so hard to understand about that?" 

"But we spend time together. We have fun. You like me, Miguel, you do, you tell me jokes sometimes, you make me things for me. You… you do like me, right?" 

"You know that I do," he says, his eyebrows pinching together. 

"You like me, like, you want me," you say, just to make sure.

His fist clenches hard enough to make an audible sound. Miguel's voice is fraught, and through barely parted lips, "If you know that, what's the problem?" 

You don't know. Maybe it was silly to worry about how he sees you, because you do know that Miguel likes you, but you also know he hadn't wanted to like you. His attraction to you was reluctant, you're not stupid enough to miss that, and it was important to you that whatever tension sexual or otherwise lingering between you had bloomed into mutual affection. 

"I want us to be friends, too," you say. 

"I thought we were more than that." 

It's such a quiet admission. He isn't afraid to say it, and he isn't reluctant like you feared. 

"Miguel," you say. "I want you to like me. I know I can be off-putting, I know I tease too much, but I don't want you to like me despite those things, I just want you to like me. So, when you say we aren't friends…" 

"I've never heard you say three serious sentences in a row," Miguel says, reaching out for your hand. He pulls you toward him slowly, his fingertips gliding up the length of your arm. "Then again, it's the same nonsense as usual." 

"Miguel–" 

"Of course I like you. How else do you need me to say it? I like you and I want to kiss you, I like you and I like that you're irregular. You want us to be friends? Then let's be friends." Miguel's hand closes around your bicep. His thumb presses against soft fat and muscle alike. "But not just friends." 

Relieved, you sigh. "So you're saying we really weren't friends?" 

Miguel leans down until his face is the only thing you can see. His smooth skin, his dark eyes, their darker flush of too-long lashes; it's unfair how pretty his eyelashes are, how they curl, how they bunch in triangles you have to fight to resist touching. His eyebrows so often slightly set, giving him an unhappy expression even now. 

He brings the hand that isn't clasped at your bicep to the hill of your waist. It's hot as a brand, and it pulls you closer, your neck craning with every inch he steals from between you. 

"We can be friends," he says. 

His fingers twitch against your arm, and his hand begins to climb. It's not as slow as it feels, conquering the curve of your shoulder, your neck. His hand is big, his thumb pressing into the column of your throat gently.

He looks at you for a measured lapse of time, and you know, finally, that you're on the same page. 

"What you said before, 'mi cielo?'" You hold his elbow. "What does that mean?" 

"My sky," he says. "My… my heavens. It's saccharine. It's something teenagers say, when they're," —his voice dips, the hand at your waist squeezing tight like you might slip through his hold—  "infatuated." 

"Just teenagers say that?" you ask.

"No," he allows. "I always thought it was too much." 

"But you–" 

"Yeah. I did." 

The first kiss is surprisingly sweet. On the tail end of words, Miguel presses his lips half-parted to yours, slowly, softly, like the brush of a downy feather. He lingers, and it's your own movement that spurs him on —you shudder up into his lips and he loses control. 

The sound he makes is a shock. You try to pull back to check he isn't hurting, and he lets you until he realises why it is you're pulling away. "It's fine, it's okay," he says quickly. 

Assuaged of your concern, he pulls you back in and he kisses you, he kisses you, his hand squeezing too tight and his nose bridge sliding up against yours from the force of it all. Your chest feels like a pit and you need Miguel closer if you're ever going to fill it, your hands snapping up to his face like magnets. There's no need to pull him down to you, he's already wading in, not wading —crashing, kissing you so hard your lips burn. 

You make a sound that says, hopefully, This is really fun, but don't give me a bruise.

His tongue is a heat at the seam of your lips. Your weight bends, your chest leaning into his front. He doesn't hesitate to ease his hand behind your back and prop you up against him as things get heady, and the only thing you can feel is him. 

All those times he almost kissed you, all those times he couldn't cross the gap. He poked and prodded and provoked you into getting into his space and each time you called his bluff. You wanted Miguel to give in, and now he has, it's the meltiest, most stickying warmth you've ever felt. 

Voices sound far away, off the platform and down the hall. Jessica and someone else, approaching fast. 

Something sharp snags your bottom lip as Miguel pulls away. You press your finger to your sore lip. When you pull it away, blood spots your skin. 

Miguel takes your face into his hand and angles your face to a glowing screen carefully, in total juxtaposition of the grip he'd had on your waist. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, the tip of his fangs catching the light. His adrenaline must be high. 

"Excited?" you ask him breathily. 

He wipes your lip with his thumb. The other hand pet's your cheek. You feel suddenly and smotheringly adored, all his attention on your pinprick wound. 

"Everything okay up there?" Jessica calls. 

Miguel drops your face like he's remembered himself. You turn to your newfound company, Jessica Drew and an unhappy looking Gwen Stacy. This high up, there's no way they can see the state of either of you, mussed hair and Miguel's blushy cheeks, but they'll see you eventually. And Miguel might like you, might want you, might be your more-than-friend, but he's a stickler for appearances, and being found kissing your subordinate dizzy when you're supposed to be working would mortify him.

"I cut my lip on a lemonade bottle," you call cheerily, waving at grumpy Gwen. Her lips perk up. "Miguel's trying to tell me it's my fault. Is lemonade usually sharp?" 

His hand flattens subtly at the small of your pack. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

"Welcome, handsome. Is it bad?" you ask, turning back to hip with your lip pouted. 

His eyes visibly soften at the sight of you. "Not that bad." 

"Alright, good. You'll have to let the platform down, I need to go." 

"What? Where are you going?" he asks. 

"If we're friends now," you say, lilting, performing a half spin in front of him just to watch his eyes narrow, "I'm going to have to make us bracelets. Friendship bracelets." He clearly doesn't like the idea of being friends still, so you amend with a softer tone, "Friends and whatever that was. Come on, you'll love it. I'll make it match your suit." 

He rubs the space between his eyebrows. 

"Will you bring your stuff here?" he asks, the platform beginning to lower under your feet. 

"Duh. I need to take lots of measurements. I'll be in your hair all day, you'll hate it." 

He nods like he agrees. "I'll hate it," he says, deadpan. When he's sure Jessica and Gwen aren't looking, he gives you a smile you've never seen before. 

You and I have a secret, it says. 

Lyla appears by your shoulder to instantly tell him otherwise. It goes without saying that she's mildly disgusted and extremely smug. "Don't match it to his suit, Y/N. Mr. Heartthrob here needs something soft. How about some baby pinks, hm?" 

Miguel sighs, but you barely hear him over your excited gasp. "Yes! Pink and white, for sure, that would be so nice." 

"Great," Miguel says. "Perfect. Thanks for that, Lyla."

"You're so welcome!" 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D please reblog if you have the time ♡

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Moments in Time - Jack Hughes Edition

Word Count - 3k almost

Summary: The eight times Jack Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note: Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Quinn Hughes Edition. Luke Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas.

Main Masterlist

The last thing that Jack wanted was a ring camera. He said he didn’t want the footage to somehow get leaked and his fans figure out where his apartment was. He also didn’t like the idea of every single time someone passed your apartment getting a notification on his phone. But you told him that since he’s gone so much, you would like to have a ring camera because it made you feel safer when he wasn’t home. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jack was on his phone ordering the best one that they made not without mumbling “you really know what to say to get what you want. Just so you know I still don’t like the idea.” But as time went on, although he would refuse to admit you think he kind of loved having the idea of a ring camera so that he could mess with you. 

Smacking the camera to say he’s home.

Once the camera was installed and everything was set up. Jack found funny little ways to tell you hi even if you were apart. It started as an occasional thing when he was coming home from morning skate and you were already at work. Or coming home from the gym and he knew you were out with friends. He loves to ring the doorbell and smack it. He always says the most random shit to go along with it. The first time he did it he was coming home from the dry cleaners and you were out to lunch with some coworkers. He smacked the camera and literally said “hi babe just wanted to say hi and did you know the dry cleaner broke up with his girlfriend..”  

But shortly it became a daily thing. Anytime he came home even if you were already home he would smack the camera and make a silly face and say the first thing that came to mind literally. Anything from something random that happened at practice, asking what you want for dinner, or simply “I love you babygirl, drive home safe.” as he smacks the camera before entering the apartment. Jack always said it was to annoy you and maybe it was. But he also secretly loved that no matter where you were at the time you would get a little notification. He also loves that no matter where you are at work, in a meeting, with friends, or at the grocery store you would always watch the video in the moment and send him a text as a response. It kind of became his daily way to say ‘I’m thinking of you and I love you’ even if he didn’t always say it in the moment. 

2.  A boy’s night out equals drunken moments caught on camera

You knew that Jack was going to go out for a team bonding/guy’s night thing tonight. You also knew that Jack rarely came home sober from those things when he wasn’t DD. Jack never came home at a decent hour when he went out with the boys and you found yourself choosing your own sleep rather than staying up. Tonight was no different, you did however wake up when he fell into bed practically falling on top of you in the process. “Hi baby.” he mumbled as he laid on top of you and the covers. 

“Hi Jackey, did you have fun.” softly turning he wasn’t putting as much weight on you,playing with his hair. “Baby why don’t you take your jeans off and get under the covers.” you softly suggest all you got in response was a moan of protest as Jack fully rolled off of you in his lazy drunken state take off his jeans before crawling under the covers and bear hugging you immediately falling asleep. “Night Jackey” you whispered quickly, allowing sleep to lure you back. 

The next morning, when you were making breakfast you finally had a chance to see your notifications from when you were asleep. Living in an apartment it wasn’t abnormal to see a few ring notifications about something moving by your door overnight especially on a Friday night. But what was odd, was that your doorbell rang at 3:15 AM. Deciding to watch the video that ring filmed immediately you found yourself laughing. It was a video of a very very intoxicated Jack. He couldn’t even stand up straight, of course the video started with a hello smack. But once he started attempting to talk you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Heyy babycakes!” immediately he started laughing at the random nickname he just gave you. “It’s babycakes now cause your ass is so big and cakey.” The laugh that left him, you knew affected his whole body cause he almost fell over. Even though the nickname didn’t really make much sense.

“Before you ask, I took an uber I didn’t wanna wait for Nico I needed to see ma gurrll” making one of his classy sass faces he continued “because I’m responsible like that duhhh.” He started digging through his pockets mumbling to himself all you could catch between the bad audio quality and the slurring was “keys… loooosst.. Fuck.. oopsie.” His keys now in front of his face, dangling them “found em.” Giving a big kiss to the camera and then stumbling inside before the video cut out. 

You couldn’t help the tears coming out of your eyes from laughing so hard at drunk Jack, so happy that Jack gave in to letting you both have a ring camera so you can show his brothers this next time you saw them. 

3. Improutu karokate moments  

After coming back from a run, Jack still has his blasting in his ears. His face looks exhausted after running outside in one of those rare fall heatwaves.His hair sticking to his forehead and also in a million different directions. His cheeks were a little red from sweat or the sun you weren’t sure but he looked adorable. Jack knew that you weren’t home but what he didn’t know was that you immediately opened the ring notification because you were expecting an amazon package. Thinking that there was no way you would ever see this he let himself get lost in the music in his ears and have a little karokate moment at the front door. Jack randomly breaking out into song isn’t the reason that you found yourself crying in laughter in the middle of the store. But rather it was a song he was singing that made you lose it. Once you heard the popular lyric “I’m talkin’ all around clock, I’m talkin’ hope nobody knocks, I’m talkin 'wild wild thoughts..” The fact that Jack Hughes was singing Sabrina Carpenter and having his hot girl moment in the hallway in front of your apartment you couldn’t help yourself from messing with him. 

“I thought you hated this song?” the sound of your voice scaring Jack.

“Baby Jesus you can’t be doing that! And I don’t like it.” He tries to lie but it doesn’t work and he knows it doesn’t.

“Uh huh baby you don’t have to hide your new guilty pleasure song” you tease.

“Whatever I’m going inside.” As he finally opens the apartment door and lightly slams it shows how “upset” he was at you for teasing him. 

4. Counting down the days  

It was one of those rare times when you were the one out of town and not Jack. Let’s just say Jack was not used to being home and you not being with him. In total you were only gone for 7 days having a vacation planned with your friends. Jack didn’t wanna bother you constantly with calling and texting so he came up with the next best thing “ring camera check-in time.” He actually started it as a joke when he came home from the airport after dropping you off. Accidentally ringing the doorbell on his way into the apartment saying something like “have a safe flight baby, T minus 7 days till I see you again.” and then proceeding to make the most cringey kissy sounds into the camera. He didn’t even know you would see it but since you once you settled on your seat on the plane a few hours later you did and immediately texted him about how you thought his video was adorable. So of course Jack made it a point, everytime he left his house for a morning skate, going to the store, a game or came home to give you a one sentence update on his day and how many more days to had left until you were home. Even though you didn’t always watch them in the moment when you did they immediately put a smile on your face and you were so grateful to have these little mini personal vlogs forever of Jack. 

5. Look no emotional support shoes 

Jack is known for being quick witted, both of you found yourselves constantly teasing each other about random things. One of your favorite things to tease him about was how the fans were even tired of his “emotional support Air Forces” and “emotional support Fiji water bottle.” The water bottle was an easy fix. You brought him a hydroflask off Amazon and told him “it’s time for you to be an adult Jack and use a reusable water bottle like the rest of us for emotional support.” Even Jack was surprised at how Twitter reacted to him bringing his little reusable water bottle everywhere with him. They all picked on him, still saying it was obviously his girlfriends doing and hoped you could get him to wear other shoes every once in a while. Jokingly you said on your Instagram story, that sadly the shoes will probably have to stay because he’s so physically attached to them. 

Jack was leaving the next day for a home game. Since you were still at work he had to use the ring camera to show you his suit before he left. At the moment you were able to pull your phone out at work and started watching him show you his suit. It was a basic navy suit with a white button up and black tie. But then Jack’s smile grew as he kicked one foot back to show you his shoes. He was wearing a new pair of Jordan ones with blue accents. You were in shock at your desk as you watched him reveal his shoes, truly you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing the speaker button.

“I never thought I’d see the day Jackey.”

“BABY?!” the surprise evident in his voice not expecting you to watch him in real time. 

“I’m proud of you for branching out and I know Twitter will be too.” you add the last part jokingly. 

“I gotta go. Love you, see you later.”

“Me too. Love you Jackey, see you tonight!”

6. Date Night

Jack and you both tried to have at least one date a week where you both went out for a night together. Sometimes it would be to go to the movies, a Broadway show, or even just a simple dinner. Tonight was no different, both deciding that it was time to try the new fancy restaurant down the street that just opened last month. Both of you enjoying all the fancy food, Jack enjoying their high end whiskey and you with their fancy mix drinks. 

It was just overall an amazing night, filled with jokes and laughter, flirting truly a perfect date night. The end of the night was no different, as you walked down the hallway together holding hands. As you went to dig through your purse to look for your keys to open the door, Jack couldn’t help but come up behind you and start kissing you where your neck and shoulder met. 

“You just looked so pretty tonight love” as he placed wet kisses on your neck. As you both drunkenly stumble into the apartment. Both of you have never been more grateful to have a ring camera the next morning when you realized it caught the entire moment. 

7. Online Shopping Gone Wrong

The other night you got a little tipsy and might have brought way too many packages on Amazon. It’s not that Jack would care how you spend your own money but sometimes the way he chirps you about your ‘midnight tipsy shopping sprees’ you just didn’t wanna hear it. Since you know how Jack loves checking the camera everytime he gets a “movement” notification hoping it’s you to mess with. Since you were trying to avoid the teasing this time around you didn’t want him to catch how many amazon packages you brought a few days ago. So you change the address to Luke’s apartment only to realize you have to get the amazon packages into your house. 

Deciding that the best option for sneaking the packages inside your apartment was to force Luke and Nico to help. The plan was simple: Luke will stand in front of the ring camera while you and Nico Hurriedly carry everything inside. The plan was working great for about two whole minutes, just for Jack to hear Jack’s voice startle all three of you through the camera. 

“Luke, what are you doing? I thought you said you had a dentist appointment and that’s why you couldn’t come to the gym?”

Luke was an amazing person, but he was a terrible liar and that fact has never been more clear than in this moment. His nervousness got the best of him from the moment he heard his brother’s voice he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Yeah, just stopping by to give something to Y/N real quick.” 

“Okay? what are you giving her?” Jack’s curiosity was clear in his voice. It was obvious that he didn’t believe his brother’s lie and wanted to see how far Luke would go. Fuck him for knowing his little brother so well and fuck his curious personality in this moment you thought to yourself. 

All Luke can do is give a few ums as a response to his brother. Which is exactly what lets your anxiety raise and is probably why you decided to yell “LUKE PLEASE SHUT UP!” Now you’re feeling caught in the act of not only lying to your boyfriend about your tipsy shopping spree but also wanting to kill his little brother for not being able to come up with a better lie on the spot. 

All of this is of course what leads Nico to start to softly curse in German. Of course Jack recognized his captains’ voice. “Wait Nico is there too??” At this point Nico is sighing at the floor, holding 3 packages, you slide down the front door in true embarrassment at your failed plan and Luke is as red as a lobster. So all three of you are pretending that as long as you don’t move maybe Jack will forget the entire encounter. Only for Jack to softly chuckle and go “hey baby you know you used my card for amazon right?” Lifting your head in pure shock you must have been more drunk than you originally thought. “I knew the second you placed the order. It’s also my amazon account baby, you haven’t paid for prime in years.” 

Nico and Luke immediately throw their hands up in frustration and leave you in the hallway. Surrounded by packages and some were pretty heavy. Although you couldn’t blame them you would have left yourself too if you were them. Although you were a little sad that they didn’t speak to you for a week and didn’t even answer a group chat if she happened to be in it. After being salty for a week, they are more annoyed at themselves for trusting Y/N to come up with a plan in the first place because she’s the same girl who spent months planning Jack a surprise birthday party. Only to accidentally send an evite to Jack. 

   8.) Matching OOTD

Jack’s favorite thing when he’s home is matching his outfit with you.He loves your style and even he knows you have better shoe game then he does. But that doesn’t stop you from yelling at him to please leave the emotional support Air Forces Ones at home for one evening! Jack didn’t only love your thoughts on his fits, but he loved matching with you. He says that it’s just another way of people knowing that you're his and he finds it kind of hot. Plus he loves how happy you get when you can match shoes or even a simple sweats. When on the road he found himself missing your little routine of getting ready together. So everyday on your way out the door, you ring the camera and record your little outfit of the day. He tries his best to match some way even on roadies in some little way because it helps him feel closer to you. 

It slowly becomes Jack’s favorite thing about the day when the notification comes on his phone that you’ve left the apartment and recorded your fit. He always sends back a little video (sometimes with Lukey or Nico in it depending on the day) of his outfit choice as well. He loves on the rare day when he’s away that he can match with you even if it’s from across the country, and even when it’s as simple as wearing the same color shirt. Somehow this little act you guys have has helped the long roadies feel shorter and both of you have become grateful for this little daily ritual you’ve created. 

[helen-with-an-a]

You always have an excuse pt 2

Hi. So I got a request for a pt 2 of You Always Have An Excuse. This is a little angstier than I thought it was gonna go, but I really like it.

Barça Femeni x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2

Description: R realises what she's been missing out on

Word Count: 3k

After the final, when you had come clean about what was truly going on in your life. You hadn’t expected much to change. Why would you? You had once told a teacher, back when you were still in primary school, that your parents weren’t home much and that you hadn’t seen your mother in a few days. She had smiled and said that it was normal for parents to be working hard – it was how you could afford nice things – and she was sure you’d see your mother again soon.

When you landed back in Spain after the whirlwind of a weekend, you had pulled out your phone to order an Uber (you had decided to treat yourself rather than forcing all of your bags onto a very busy public bus and metro system) when a gentle hand came to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re on our way home; let me take you.” Ingrid smiled at you, sunglasses perched on her forehead, a very tired Mapí leaning heavily into her.

“No, it’s ok. I’ll just get an Uber,” you gestured with your phone.

“Mete tu culo en el auto.” Mapí grumbled, snatching your phone out of your hands and making her way to the car.

“Sorry, Søta, she can be a little grumpy when she’s tired. But she’s right. Go get in the car; I’ll bring your bags.” Ingrid chuckled, taking your bag from you without giving you much of a choice.

It felt nice being dropped off at your house rather than lugging your bags through the busy Barcelona streets. You waved goodbye to Ingrid and Mapí, thanking them profusely for their kindness and went inside, once again being met by a silent house.

“Mum?” you shouted out. “Dad?” You double-checked all the rooms after being met with complete silence. You checked the notepad they usually left by the kettle. They sometimes wrote notes for you, explaining where they were going and how long they were gone. Nothing. You checked the fridge—empty. You guessed they were going for a while, then.

You really wanted to just collapse on the sofa and let the events of the weekend catch up to you, but you had washing to do, and you really needed a shower. It was now that you really wanted a parent – someone to give you a massive hug, wrap you up in their warm, strong arms and kiss the top of your head, telling you how proud they were before guiding you into the bathroom as they stuck a towel in the dryer to warm up a little. But you didn't have that. Instead, you had an empty house, a mountain of sweaty clothes and an aching body. You hadn’t noticed the tears rolling steadily down your cheeks until you tasted salt.

This wasn’t you. You didn’t cry. You didn’t. You couldn’t. But after the final, you had experienced so many functional families that it truly showed you what you were missing. Alexia had brought you straight over to her Mami, where you were engulfed in one of the best hugs you’d ever received. She had kissed your forehead, telling you all about how well you had played and how you must come with Alexia for the next family meal. From there, you were passed to Ona’s family, then Keira’s, then Lucy’s. Almost every family had embraced you – squeezing you tightly as you melted into their arms. Was it a skill you developed when you became a mother that you automatically gave fantastic hugs? Maybe you were just so touch-deprived that you would relax into anyone who offered you a warm place to rest for a moment?

You were on autopilot as you went through the motions of getting ready for bed. You were methodical yet unthinking as you washed your body, hardly noticing the too-hot water and bruises littering your skin. You were going through the motions as you shoved your clothes into the wash – the dirty fabrics being shoved in without distinction. As you pulled on your pyjamas (really, it was a ratty old Manchester City shirt you had snuck from Lucy during her first season at Barça during an away match and a pair of La Masia shorts you think were Patri’s once upon a time), you longed for a hug. Something warm and comforting, but you had to settle with your bed. It was comfortable; the mattress was something you had forked out for when you received your first paycheck. The softness was something you usually welcomed – the high thread count sheets that cost you an exorbitant amount of money typically aided in your relaxation after a hard day at training. But today, they did nothing but highlight just how lonely you felt. You had been given a snippet of what you were missing, and you wanted … needed … more. The bed was too cold, the pillows were too soft, the room smelled like laundry and general cleanliness rather than comfort.

Your night was filled with tossing and turning – leaving you even more tired than when you had gone to bed. Just like last night, you were on autopilot. Turning off your alarm, having a shower, making a cup of coffee, eating a piece of toast – none of it you consciously did. You made your bed like you did every morning; you gave the house a quick once over – triple checking your parents hadn’t come home in the night; you sat down at the table, pulling out a piece of paper to make a grocery list when you heard a knock on the front door. You considered ignoring it – you weren’t expecting anyone. But it wasn’t going away. The banging got louder and more insistent the longer you left it.

“Sí, puedo ayudarte?” You said monotonously as you yanked the door out of your way.

“Cariño?” Alexia asked, concern seeping into her voice.

“Ale?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Can I come in?” She asked, not really letting you answer as she pushed her way into your house. Alexia took your hand as she passed, the warm seeping into your bones, leaving a gentle tingle in its wake. You were dragged into the living room, Alexia pushing you to the sofa as she sat next to you, never letting go of your hand. “Your parents aren’t here, are they?” She phrased it as a question, but you knew she knew the answer. You sighed, shaking your head and shrugging your indifference.

“They’re never here; it’s no biggie.” You smiled meekly at her.

“No, that’s not true. It is a biggie. They should be here for you. You are a child; you need your parents. Parents give you hugs and tell you everything is ok. Parents tell you they’re proud of you. Parents don’t ignore their kid to the point where they don’t even know what sport they play, let alone that they have just won one of the biggest competitions in Europe.” She was ranting now. “Parents don’t leave the country without telling their kid. Parents look after their children.”

“Well, I’m not a child!” You shouted, interrupting her tirade. You also pulled your hand out of hers – ignoring the fact that every fibre of your being was screaming at you not to. Alexia looked at you, confusion evident in her expression. “I turned 18 last week.” You added quietly. That was a secret you had hoped not to spill. You hadn’t had to work too hard to hide your birthday; not even the Barça admins knew the day had passed. You made the mistake of looking at Alexia. You really, really wished you hadn’t. The hurt that flashed across her face did more to break your heart than anything your parents could (or couldn’t) do to you.

“We missed your birthday?” She asked so quietly you struggled to hear her.

“I didn’t tell anyone. You technically didn’t miss anything if you never knew.” You avoided her gaze, fingers coming together to fiddle nervously on your lap. Alexia stood up sharply, her unexpected movement drawing your attention once again.

“Stand up.” She instructed.

“What why?”

“Pack a bag, you’re coming home with me.” Her tone left no room for argument, yet you still tried to.

“Wha-why? No, I’m fine. It’s ok, honestly. It’s nothing. I promise I’m fine.” Your voice crack gave you away. You so desperately wanted to go with Alexia, to have her take care of things for you, to have her give you the warm hugs and soft smiles you had seen her give Vicky and Martina. You had always shied away from her contact, though, chalking it up to disliking physical contact. But now, after the weekend of hugs and kisses from loving families – you knew it was your subconscious protecting you from something you knew you wouldn’t receive regularly.

“Pequeña. This is not up for debate. Either you pack a bag and come with me, or I move in here with you. And I have a feeling that your parents, whenever they do return, would not want a 30-year-old woman living in their house uninvited.” She quirked an eyebrow at you, daring you to go against her again.

“I can’t,” you squeaked out.

“Why not?” Despite her firm voice, you could tell she wanted to figure out why you were so reluctant to leave this life behind. This was all you’d ever known. The isolation, the self-sufficiency, the hiding, and the lying. You didn’t know what would happen if you let yourself fall into Alexia’s open arms. What if she left again, too? There had been rumours swirling all over the internet. You couldn’t let yourself be attached to a singular person. It would hurt far too much if they left. You were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to be fixed.

“I can’t,” you settled on instead of explaining the whole truth to her.

“Why not?” She asked again, the firmness gone as she saw your composure start to break.

“I …” The lump in your throat prevented you from speaking any more. You took some steadying breaths, willing yourself not to cry. Alexia crouched in front of you, ignoring the slight ache in her muscles as she ran her fingers up and down your bare thighs in soothing, repetitive motions. “If … if I let myself become too reliant on people … on you … and you don’t want me anymore … I think I might break.” You spoke so slowly, so softly, that Alexia had to strain to hear you.

“Oh, querida. No,” she surged forward, her strong arms wrapped around you, her warm scent invading your senses. "We will always want you. I will always want you.” She said so absolutely, and you had no choice but to believe her.

That was all you needed to hear for the dam to break. Tears bubbled over your carefully constructed walls. You sobbed and sobbed, her grip on you only getting tighter.

“But … wh … ho … I …” you blubbered, the tears getting more and more frantic.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, cariño. I’ve got you.” Her comforting words made you cry harder. You were limp as she rearranged the both of you, settling you against her chest as she sat back against the couch.

She let you sob into her chest for as long as you needed. She rocked you gently from side to side, her fingers scratching at your scalp as her heartbeat provided a soothing rhythm for you. Eventually, you calmed down, slowly drifting into a much-needed sleep.

Alexia could tell you weren’t at peace as she watched you sleep. Your eyebrows were scrunched, your mouth a firm line. Your fingers had wrapped themselves in her shirt so tightly she wondered if there would be a hole in the fabric whenever you eventually let go. She wished with her entire being that she could take your pain away. How could someone do this to their child? How could a parent look at their child and not want to love them the way they should be? How could anyone look at you and think you don’t deserve the world and more? If your parents weren’t going to be there for you, she certainly would be.

It was gone lunchtime when you finally woke. Alexia hadn’t moved an inch – it didn’t matter that her arms were sore or her legs had gone numb; you were comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

“Ale?” You croaked, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Sí, cariño?” She hummed, her thumb running gently over your cheekbone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t …” you flustered a little, scared of her reaction after you had finally broken down on her.

“Hey, no … shhh. Está bien. Estás bien.” She rocked you again, much like a mother would rock her upset child. It was slightly awkward, given your size – but it was nonetheless comforting. “I still want you to pack a bag,” Alexia said, pushing some hair off your face. “You don’t have to come with me,” she added quickly, sensing your reluctance. “But I don’t want you here alone.” You sighed, knowing there was no way you would negotiate your way out of this one. “You could go to Keira’s, but she can’t cook very well, or Ona’s...” she mused "although you might have to put up with Lucy,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper. This made you laugh, a loud, weird huff that brought a similar smile to Alexia’s face. “I haven’t told anyone what you told us at the final. That is your information to share as, and when, you want to.” She implored. “But Mapí and Ingrid will take you in, no questions asked. As would Marta and Caro, Paños, Irene … any one of the girls will take you in. I promise.” You readjusted yourself, drawing back from Alexia’s chest in order to look at her. This was a conversation that needed to happen face-to-face.

“Is it … can I … stay with you?” You asked nervously.

“Absolutamente.” Her hand reached out for yours, her grip so tight it almost hurt.

“What about Olga?” You were reluctant to impose yourself on another adult’s life when they might not want you there.

“She already loves you, and she’s technically only met you, what? Twice?” She teased, her head dipping down to catch your eye. “She wants you there as much as I do. Prometo.” You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of Alexia’s skin permeating into yours.

“Ok,” you breathed out, watching Alexia’s mouth spread into a wide, genuine smile you didn’t see too often.

------

Moving in with Alexia was the best thing to have ever happened to you. Long gone were the days of rushing for the metro and figuring out where your next meal would come from. Olga had embraced you with open arms – greeting both you and Alexia with identical hugs, forehead kisses and cups of tea as you made your way into the kitchen after a long day at training. Alexia had dragged you along to her family meal; her Mami was insistent on making sure you were well-fed and looked after properly. Alba had smacked Alexia around the head for not bringing you sooner but offered you a warm smile and asked about your week.

Ona had been informed of your situation that afternoon. She quickly showed up with a bag piled high with sweets that definitely broke your diet and demanded to know the Netflix password as she settled down on the sofa, bringing her arm around your shoulder and whispering a promise not too dissimilar to Alexia’s.

Keira had hung around after training one afternoon, offering a tight hug before telling you that her spare room was always open, and you just had to ask, and Narla would be all yours for however long you wanted her. That made you laugh, especially after hearing Lucy’s indignant ‘Oi’ from the showers as she heard Keira’s promise.

Eventually, you did tell the rest of the team about your parents. Jona was the first to know officially. As manager, he needed to know the situation as soon as possible. Alexia had been by your side the whole time, her hand in yours, and she sat with you, stepping in to explain things now and then when she sensed you were becoming overwhelmed. Mapí had wanted to kill your parents – threatening murder and retribution on them for doing this to her ‘niña preciosa’. Ingrid had been just as angry, although she had the forethought to contain her anger. She had pressed a long kiss to the top of your head as she engulfed you in a hug, insisting you come round once a week for a movie night and sleepover.

Slowly, you learned that it was good to rely on people. That it was ok to need help and have that safety net below you. The heartbreak you felt when you thought about your parents would probably always be there, but you learned that you didn’t need them. You had the team … and even if they left and moved away, they would always be there for you. They were one phone call, one plane, train, or car journey away.

Your biological family might have been shite … but you didn’t need them. You had your found family.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |10|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You rolled your head to the side, groaning as you slowly came to. You tried lifting your hand to your head, but your arm got caught on something. You groaned again and slowly opened your eyes. Your eyes instantly snapped shut when they were met with a harsh light. You brought your other hand to your head, trying to cover your eyes and ease the pounding in your head. 

You heard a click and slowly brought your hand away, deciding to try opening your eyes again. You let out a sigh when you were met with a dark room. “You were hit pretty hard,” someone said. You tried placing the voice, but you couldn’t focus and thinking hurt too much. “You might be sensitive to light for a bit.” 

“What happened?” You rasped out. You blinked your eyes a few times, finally taking in the pale walls and lack of décor, not that you could judge, your place was rather empty. You ran your arms across what was beneath you, feeling the scratchy fabric, your bed was certainly softer than this one.

“You don’t remember?” A voice asked, one that sounded oddly like Sam. 

You winced as you turned your head, even the smallest movement seemed to make the pounding worse. When the pain eased back down to what it was when you woke up you opened your eyes, seeing Sam in the corner of the room. That’s when you realized the room you were in was similar to Tara’s, but this wasn’t Tara’s room, that meant you were in the hospital. 

“Why am I not dead?” You asked, easing yourself back down onto the pillow, sitting up was too much. 

“So, you do remember,” Sam said. 

You wanted to glare at Sam, but you could only manage a groan, though you were pretty sure it came out more like a whine. “I left Mindys after you all accused me of murder.” You closed your eyes trying to think back. “I called Tara.” Everything was just so fuzzy; it was like you were fighting with yourself to fill in gaps and give shadowy figures a form. “Then…” your eyes snapped open; your heart suddenly felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “Ghostface,” you whispered. “Why am I still alive?” You asked again. 

“That’s a good question,” Judy said, opening the door, followed by Dewey. You winced when they let the door swing closed just a bit to loudly. “One I would love to get an answer to.” 

“Couldn’t wait five minutes,” someone snapped. You glanced to the other side of the room to see a woman you had only ever seen on the TV screen, Gale Weathers. “They literally just woke up.” 

“I have a case to solve,” Judy snapped, giving Gale her special passive aggressive smile. “Three attacks and one dead body, all within the last three days.” 

“Enough,” Dewey said tiredly, stepping between the two women. “Let’s focus on what’s actually important right now.” 

Gale and Judy, both gave each other tight lipped smiles before Judy turned her attention back to you. “How about you just tell me what happened,” she said, sounding much kinder than when she had stormed into the room. 

You let out a sigh, you had a feeling you’d be repeating yourself more than once. “I was at Chad and Mindy’s with everyone else,” you began to explain again. “After they all accused me of murder I left.” Judy wrote down stuff in her notepad, occasionally glancing up at you. “I went back to my place, intending to shower before coming back here.” 

“Then what happened?” 

You shrugged, explaining everything to Judy and trying to remember what happened was making the pounding in your head louder. “I went to the kitchen and then I heard a noise…” you closed your eyes, trying to make the memory clearer. “The door was open. I know I closed the door,” you whispered. “I went to check it out and…” 

“And that’s when Ghostface attacked?” 

“No,” you shook your head. 

“No?” Everyone in the room furrowed their brow. 

“He was already there,” you whispered. “I don’t know how or when but when I turned around, he was right there.” 

“Anything else?” Judy asked softly. 

You began to shake your head but stopped when something else came back to you. “Someone called me,” you furrowed your brow, you still didn’t know who. 

“Ghostface?” 

You shrugged. “I didn’t answer, didn’t recognize the number.” 

“Well, we can take your phone and trace the number. It’s a long shot but maybe-” 

“Don’t bother,” Gale said, interrupting the sheriff. 

“I know you’re a hot shot reporter, but this is how real police work is done.” Judy placed her hands on her hips, glaring sweetly at Gale. 

“I mean,” Gale snapped, before taking a deep breath to calm back down. “I know whose number it was. It was mine.” 

“You were calling her?” Sam asked, pointing at you. 

Now you were even more confused, you didn’t know why Gale Weathers would call you, you didn’t even know Gale Weathers. You weren’t sure how Gale would have even gotten your number, if she asked anyone for it then they could have just called you themselves. 

“How do you two know each other?” Judy asked, gesturing between you and Gale. Her eyes lingered on you for a split second, a new hint of suspicion in her gaze. 

“We don’t,” you said quickly. “Why would you call me?” You looked up at Gale. You tilted your head, everything you had heard about Gale was that she was a headstrong reporter and didn’t let anything get in her way. Gale was refusing to look directly at you, she wouldn’t even meet your eyes for half a second. 

“I got sent this,” Gale whispered, handing her phone over to Judy. 

Judy tapped the screen on the phone then whatever she saw made her eyes widen. She held the phone out for you to see it. You furrowed your brow at first, it was just a picture of a mailbox with a knife scratching the surface. Your eyes widened when you saw the name on the mailbox, it was your name, it was taken before Ghostface got in your apartment. 

“As soon as I realized you were in danger,” Gale whispered, flicking a glance at you but quickly dropped her eyes back to the floor. “I reacted, called you, called the sheriff,” she pointed at Judy. “And then we just raced our way to your place.” 

You continued to look at Gale, she still hadn’t fully answered the question, you were just as confused as before. “Why would Ghostface send you a picture like that?” Dewey asked. You felt better, looking around and seeing everyone just as confused as you were. 

Before Gale could explain herself, a ring erupted, making everyone in the room jump. You winced; you weren’t sure if the ringing was unnaturally loud or if your head just couldn’t handle it at the moment. You looked around, waiting for someone to answer their phone but as everyone pulled out their phone, they looked at it with furrowed brows. You saw Judy’s eyes land on something on the table beside you, when you followed her gaze, you saw your phone sitting there. 

You hesitantly picked up the phone, seeing ‘Unkown’ on the screen as the ringing continued. You sucked in a breath as you swiped your finger across the screen, quickly putting the call on speaker. 

“Hello?” you asked, holding your breath as you waited for the voice changer you knew would be on the other in. 

“Hello Y/N,” Ghostface’s voice crackled through the phone. “I’m sorry our time together got interrupted, I had so many plans for you.” You could practically hear Ghostface smiling on the other end. “Don’t worry, our fun is just getting started. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to congratulate a family reuniting.” 

“Family?” You scrunched your eyebrows, looking up to see everyone else with the same look, everyone besides Gale, Gale continued to stare down at the phone, tears beginning to fill her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Ghostface let out what sounded like an exasperated sigh. “Guess we know why they asked you to step down deputy Dewey,” Ghostface let out a light chuckle. “You didn’t even know when your own wife was keeping secrets from you.” Dewey looked at Gale questioningly, but she refused to look at him or anyone else. 

“Okay that’s enough,” Gale snapped, snatching the phone from your hand. 

“Gale Weathers,” Ghostface sighed. It was hard to decipher with the voice changer, but it almost sounded like there was admiration in their voice. “I’m a big fan.” 

“Yeah? Wish I could say the same.” 

“I even followed in your footsteps,” Ghostface ignored Gale’s comment. “Found a story and dug and dug until finally, I found your daughter.” 

“Daughter?” Dewey asked. He barked out a laugh. “My wife doesn’t have a daughter.” 

“I probably wouldn’t acknowledge them either,” Ghostface sighed, as if they understood the struggles Dewey was going through. “I can’t imagine the disappointment when you look at them, knowing you’ve arrested them.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” you snapped. 

There was only another light chuckle on the other end before Ghostface hung up. “What the hell was that about?” Dewey asked, looking at Gale but she refused to look at him. 

“This is what Ghostface does,” Judy said, trying to calm everyone down. “He plays mind games; we all know this.” She was saying the words, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone. 

“Why would Ghostface lie about this?” you asked, shaking your head. Attacking your abandonment issues was an obvious choice, you just didn’t know why Ghostface would imply you were related to Dewey and Gale, you didn’t even know Gale and Dewey was just the cop that arrested you, it didn’t make any sense.” 

“It’s not a lie,” Gale whispered. You snapped your eyes to her; she had her arms crossed and was looking down at the floor. 

“What?” Dewey asked, shaking his head. “It’s impossible!” 

“It was 1999,” Gale began. “We had just broken up,” she looked up at Dewey, tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall. “I had just moved to New York when I found out, had gotten my dream job.” 

Dewey shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “You would have told me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I didn’t know how.” she shook her head; she moved her hand as if she was about to reach out to Dewey but dropped it. “We didn’t exactly end on good terms, I didn’t know what I was going to do, I thought about getting rid of it.” You felt a pang in your chest, you were barely processing what was being said but you certainly felt that. “But I couldn’t.” 

“You were on TV,” Dewey continued to shake his head. “I would have seen; I would have noticed.” 

“Sitting at a table with the right height, wearing the right clothes,” Gale said softly. “It wasn’t hard to hide.”  Tears filled Dewey’s own eyes; you were practically watching his heart shatter in front of you. “I knew I couldn’t raise a child, I would have been a terrible mother,” she finally glanced over at you. “And I didn’t know how to tell you,” she looked back at Dewey. “But I wanted you to be close, so I came back to town and...” 

“They said I was left at the hospital,” you whispered emotionlessly. 

“It’s a small town, I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me,” Gale said, you could see the guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“We were together,” Dewey whispered. “We lived here, we got married,” his voice slowly raised. 

“I couldn’t take back my choice, it was already done,” Gale shook her head. “No matter how much I wanted to.” 

“You were here the whole time,” you whispered. You weren’t even looking at Gale or Dewey anymore. You could only stare at the blank wall in front of you as your entire life flashed through your eyes, you were abandoned outside a hospital, you never knew your parents, and now, your parents had been in town while you were growing up, they had been married, they had been happy, and you had never been good enough for them. 

“If I could take it all back,” Gale’s voice cut through your internal spiraling. “I would, I-” 

Your eyes snapped to Gale. “Get out,” you said, your voice steadier than ever. 

“I’m sorry,” Gale’s tears began to fall. “I-” 

“Get the fuck out!” You were only vaguely aware of Dewey storming out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him. You didn’t care if it was because he actually decided to listen to you or he just needed time to himself. 

“I never wanted you to be dragged into this mess-” 

“Sheriff, can you kindly escort her the fuck out!” you didn’t mean to snap at Judy, you knew she had nothing to do with this. 

“Let’s go,” Judy said, stepping in front of Gale and blocking your line sight of her. “Now,” she pointed. Eventually, Gale listened and Judy followed her out of the room. 

You tried to blink away the tears that had begun to form, you couldn’t deal with all this shit right now, there were more important matters at hand. 

“Ar-are you okay?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. She had been so quiet you had actually forgotten she was there. You couldn’t help but let out a humorless chuckle. “Right, stupid question,” she mumbled to herself, you weren’t even sure why she was still there. 

There was a soft knock at the door, making you and Sam look up. “Hey,” Liv said, popping her head around the door as she cracked it open. “We wanted to check on you.” she opened the door the rest of the way so you could see she was followed by all of Tara’s friends. 

Your eyes lingered on Wes as he entered last, your mind going back to Ghostface’s call, when he had called Dewey deputy. Wes had also called Dewey deputy when they were going over suspects, but Dewey was the sheriff when all of you were growing up. You didn’t want to suspect Wes but couldn’t help it, it was beginning to make sense. Wes had a crush on Tara, you were dating Tara, so the best person to take out or make look guilty would be you. Wes’s mom was also the sheriff, Wes had access to things most people wouldn’t, he was also smart, Ghostface had said they followed Gale’s path and investigated, that’s how they learned about you. 

“How are you feeling?” Liv asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Been better,” you mumbled. 

“Did we miss something?’ Liv looked from you to Sam. 

“Yeah,” Amber chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day Gale Weathers was escorted out of a building by Judy Hicks.” 

You tensed up at Gale’s name leaving Amber’s mouth. “What’s going on?” Liv asked again, she looked down at you worriedly, she probably could feel how tense you were. 

“Ghostface called,” Sam said softly. “And he revealed,” her eyes darted to you. “He-” 

“Gale fucking Weathers is my mother,” you cut her off, letting out a humorless chuckle. 

“What?” Liv asked, her eyes snapping to you. 

“A Dewey is...” you shook your head unable to finish the sentence. 

“Are you-How are you-I-” Liv couldn’t finish any of the sentences she started but you felt her give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered. Her eyes were wide as she stared right at you. “Well, this just makes you even more of a suspect.” Your eyes snapped up to Mindy, glaring at her. 

“What the hell Mindy,” Liv snapped. 

“She’s the love interest of the first victim,” Mindy gestured to you. “Now we find out she’s also the daughter of not one but two of the legacy characters? Who she was abandoned by.” 

“Fuck you,” you said coldly. 

“I’m just saying, out of everyone with a motive-” 

“Read the fucking room,” Liv snapped. 

“Get the fuck out,” you said, continuing to glare at Mindy. 

Mindy opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could Chad grabbed her and pulled her out the door, Wes and Amber quickly following them. “I...” Liv whispered. “I’m sorry.” you looked up at her, your gaze softening. “I’m here, whatever you need.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered and attempted to give her a small smile. “I think I just want to be alone right now.” Liv nodded and gave your shoulder one more squeeze before making her way out of the room. 

You sat in silence for a few minutes, staring down at the cheap blanket over you. “What do you want Sam?” you asked. She was the only one who had yet to leave you. 

“I want you to stay away from Tara,” Sam said, her voice was soft but serious. Your head instantly snapped towards her. “You’re a target, just as much as me.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“You’ll just put her in more danger.” 

You glared at her, ignoring the tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you,” you whispered, though it was much less harsh than anyone else you said it to. 

Sam gave you a sad smile and left without another word, gently closing the door behind her. You tried blinking away the tears, but they fell anyway. Sam’s words replayed in your mind, you knew she was right, you were the reason Tara got attacked. Tara would be much safer without you around; you would only hurt her in the long run. Maybe if you had never gotten to know Tara Ghostface wouldn’t have attacked her, maybe they would have only targeted you. You knew that was illogical considering her sister was the daughter of Billy Loomis, but you still couldn’t help but wonder how much better Tara’s life would be without you in it. 

[mrslankyman]

Let me lick on your tattoos

Midas (fortnite) x (fem) reader

->SMUT

-> reader works for Ghost agency

-> 3k words

-> not proof read yet

You walked around the Agency. One of the many agents working under Midas and the Ghost organization. Your white suit hugged you beautifully. The accents of gold matched the Agencies aesthetic. 

Midas seemed to just love gold. As it was apparent by his hands and touch. You smirk as you remember the last incident with him. He had come back to his office after a long day. He always seemed so gruff and angry. 

The second you entered his office he sat up. He never wanted to be seen slouching. He didn’t want anyone seeing him in any way except vigilant. He needed to be known as a stone cold leader. 

The curse he was given now seemed to aid him in his missions. Easily just turning enemies to gold. Though he could somewhat control his power he longed to just be able to touch someone. 

It seemed while his agents trusted him he noticed none would ever touch him. Not even a brush on the shoulder.

Except you. 

You’d come in and grab the papers he handed you without hesitation. Hands brushing on his cold golden ones. 

He would hide his blush by turning away in his chair and dismissing you. 

He hadn’t had someone touch him since his late wife. That was long ago. 

Jules was off somewhere else. He wished her well. 

She would not like the idea of her father with some random agent he hired. 

Or would she?

He always found himself wanting to make her happy. She was the last thing he had to be happy over.

Till you.

Now every mission seemed like a death sentence. He would send you out and desperately wait for your radio back to make sure you were okay. 

He would never show that side. He came off as cold and aggravated half the time. 

A hot kind of anger.

You’d annoy him on purpose. Giving him attitude or telling him off when you knew you were right in an argument. 

You headed down past his office. Assuming he was leaning over his desk with his brows furrowed, hands clasped together deep in thought. That’s how he was always there.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to just be in there with him.

Not getting in trouble for some mishap on a mission. 

Just in there with him. 

Maybe you had to admit you had a slight attraction to your boss. 

He was quite handsome. 

His tie, slender build, cold demeanor and that scowl he wore on his face. 

Oh and those tattoos.

How you ached to see the ones under his uniform. 

Good thing the second you walked past he radioed you to come into his office. 

You obliged and turned back around. 

Heading back to his office and opening the door without knocking. 

How he got so annoyed at that. 

“Forgot to knock.” His deep voice hit your ears.

“Oops habit.” A smirk tugged at your lips as you sat in the chair in front of his desk. Legs crossing slowly. He watched you cross your legs, his one good eye taking you all in. Oh how he wanted to just shove you against the wall and fuck the attitude out of you. He fought back those thoughts and rolled his eyes at your response. God how he just wanted to press his lips to your moody ones. 

“You gonna stare at me or tell me why you need me in here?” Such a sassy response. He bit his lip slightly and held his hands together. He leaned over the desk a little, his eye cold. “I called you in here so I can ask you about the most recent mission. You thought it was a good idea to seduce the Shadow guard?” His voice seethed of anger and what else was that? Jealousy? 

“Hmm it was a good idea, he fell for that sweet talk and I just flashed him. Nothing bad.” You shrugged and leaned back in your chair. He scowled at the idea of you doing that. 

“That is outrageous for you to be doing out on missions! You are a sophisticated agent, you should not be going around flashing your breast to random enemy agents!” He slammed his fist against the desk. The part where his hand met the wood turning to gold. His anger was really showing. 

You simply smiled at him. Not affected by his anger. It turned you on more than it put you off. You saw how his nose and eyes scrunched in anger, his jaw clenched and his face turned slightly red. 

“Seems someones a little jealous that they weren’t the ones getting flashed.” You bit your lip and slowly slid your leg that was  crossed over down. Spreading your legs open a little. His eye instantly traveled down and then back up. 

“Why would I be jealous of that.” He eyed you suspiciously. You sat up a little bit and leaned over. 

“You just give me a lot of reasons to think that.” You statted matter of factly as you unbuttoned your blazers single button. Popping it off and sliding it behind you on the chair. Your hands traveled up to your white dress shirt collar. Undoing its button and then traveling down, just enough to expose your bra. 

His gaze traveled down to your chest. He bit his lip ever so slightly. He had a good way of showing he didn’t care on the outside but on the inside.. God his body was churning. He could feel himself hardening in his jeans. He looked you in the eyes. “I’m not jealous of that Shadow agent.” He stood up from his chair. His imprint in his jeans is noticeable. He didn’t care right now. He wanted to show you that he in fact did not give two shits about someone else seeing you in ways he longed for. 

His body loomed over you. His head titled just enough to show off some of his tattoos better. You bit your lip and pulled your bottom lip down with your pointer finger. “Is that your gun or are you just happy to see me?” A teasing remark slipped through your lips. Soon enough you found his hand gripping your chin. He leaned down to your level slightly.

“I’m not happy to see you, I'm irritated by you.” He warned in a low whisper. His lips were close to your ear and it was honestly so hot. To hear his voice even lower, your eyes flicked down to his crotch. Seemed like he was enjoying being this close to you. No matter what he says.

“Oh I'm so sorry that I irritated you.” Your hot breath hit his neck. He instinctively leaned closer. Wanting no longing for you to take this further. Despite what he says. He would deny deny deny but he truly wanted you. 

“Perhaps I could.. Irritate you more.” You kissed his jawline and slid off your dress shirt. “Unclasp my bra, I know you want to.” He groaned, the small kiss on his jawline had made him increasingly hard on worse. He gave in and unclasped your bra. “I’m doing it so you’ll leave me alone.” He lied, he wanted to see you. He wanted you. Simple as that. 

If exploring your body was a mission he would be the first one to jump on board. 

“Okay yeah, sure boss.” You hummed in fake agreement as he let himself take in your naked top half. 

God he just wanted to get these tight ass jeans off and feel any part of you around his dick. He didn’t care if it was your mouth, hands, or pussy. He just wanted you. In any way you’d let him have you. 

“Fuck you.” He groaned out as he watched you jiggle your breast. 

“Oh you wanna fuck me? You really know how to get to the point huh?” You bite your lip, tugging him closer by grabbing his tie. “Admit it Midas.. You want me. Don’t lie. It’s just me and you. No one is going to judge you for giving in. Showing a little.. Affection.” Your eyes flicked down to your lips; voice laced with lust. 

“You really are the observant agent huh?” He gave in slightly running his cold golden hands across your exposed breast. You moaned slightly as the coldness of his hand touched your nipples. He felt his body react to your noises. He himself let out a low grunt.

“You better pray that no one walks in, or your ass is in trouble.” He sneered in your ear as he picked you up. The quick sweep off your feet made you giggle slightly. 

“Oh ya? My ass is in trouble? You're gonna spank it or something.” You quipped back running a hand through his hair as he shoved things off his desk to set you down. 

“Something like that.” He nodded and grabbed your knees. Spreading your legs apart and pulling you to the edge of the table. 

He put himself between your legs and pressed his hard on up to your core. 

“Oh ya, you seem very irritated by me.” You teased and he groaned in annoyance as well as pleasure. 

“Shut up or I’ll make you shut up.” He growled in your ear. 

“How are you gonna make me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes fluttering as you asked. 

“Either I'm gonna shove my dick in your mouth or I'll kiss you so hard it bruises your lips.” He breathed on your neck, teasing you with his hot and drawn out breaths. 

“I think I like both options..” You snickered and ran your left hand up the back of his neck into his hair. He shook slightly as you ran your hand through his hair. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long..” You leaned in closer. Kissing his neck and licking over the lines of his tattoos. Following the designs with your tongue. You had never heard a man moan so slowly as him. 

“Fuck.. you’re such a damn tease.” He breathed out as his body shook from your licks and kisses on his neck. “I love your tattoos.” You said between kisses on his neck. Leaving a few hickeys. “Oops..maybe we should take off your vest and shirt.. I’d love to see all your tattoos.” You leaned back from kissing his neck. You wanted to know what the tattoos looked like fully on him. 

His response was a low moan, his head rolling back. Your hands ran down his vest and unbuttoned it. Sliding it off him in one quick motion. He was like a rag doll. 

Moving with your motions; not protesting at all.

Then his tie was off.

You took your time unbuttoning his shirt. Tattoo after tattoo coming into view. You took in every one mentally drawing out routes for your tongue to take over the patterns. You didn’t even notice how he watched you gaze at his body. Once his shirt was finally off he stood only in his dress pants. A sight to see. The outline of his dick was almost screaming to be released from its prison. 

“Fuck.. “ He whimpered.

You bit your lip gripping his chin. He looked down at you, from the angle his head was at his eyes had that pissed off look. The one that screamed: you better watch what you do. 

“Don’t give me that look, you can say you like this. You’ve made enough noises for me to know.” You teased in such a seductive tone he almost just gave in. Dropped the demeanor of trying to keep his dignity. 

Your hands traced over his shirtless body now. Fingers tracing over every line and loop of the ink that painted his body. You wondered how much pain tolerance he had. Must not be much if he can’t stand the boner in his pants for longer than 5 minutes. 

You pushed him back gently, hopping off the desk. His eyes watched as your breast jiggled from the slight jump.

You smiled up at him and looked at his chest. You kissed his shoulder. He closed his eyes as your lips traced down to his chest. You licked over his inked skin. Following the lines of the tattooed wings. Gliding your tongue over his nipples a few times to tease him. Moans escaped his lips a few times. The way you glided your tongue over him and bent down slowly. Getting lower and lower.. Fuck you were good. 

The lines of his tattoos stopped right at the him of his dress pants. You looked up at him with a teasing smile. His response was an eye roll and a lip bite. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me too.” You said it so sweetly, going to get up from the ground. 

“Fuck, just suck it.” He demanded unbuckling his belt in annoyance. Not at you but himself. He sighed a little as his belt released some of the pressure on his dick. You shook your head with a smirk. Going back down and sliding his pants to his dress shoes. 

“Oh I think I'll have fun sucking it.” Your tone was soiled with lust. You could feel yourself growing even wetter. 

You palmed him through his boxers, those beautiful moans of his escaping his lips without hesitation this time. “Don’t fucking tease or I’m just gonna fucking shove it in your mouth.” He warned, his voice sounded almost deadly. 

“Yes sir.” Your said submissively sliding off his boxers quickly. Watching as his dick sprung up. You got to work. Taking him in your mouth. Going slow to antagonize him at first. His response? Gripping your hair and shoving himself fully in your mouth. You gagged slightly but took it. After he let go you continued at a faster pace. Taking whatever you couldn’t reach with your mouth with your hand. His moans filled the office so loud it wouldn’t surprise you if the whole agency heard. 

Before you could feel the warmth of his cum in your mouth he pulled you off. “Get on the desk. Now.” He growled in such a low demanding voice you could feel yourself getting wetter every second. You sat back up on the desk. Legs spread slightly. He kicked off his shoes then his pants. Walking up to you. Sliding off your pants so fast you almost forgot you had them off. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to go on any missions for a week.” He whispered in your ear as he got closer to you. Lining himself up with your entrance before sliding in. Despite his current threat of fucking you so hard, he slid in slowly. Letting you get used to the feeling of his dick in you. 

“You gonna fuck me hard or fuck me like i’m your new virgin girl friend?” You teased grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. He grunted and slammed his hips into you. You moaned, leaning your head back before getting used to the slams. He kept up the fast pace letting out his own moans and groans. Your tongue found his neck tattoos all too quickly. Tracing over the designs. Your teeth leaving sweet love bites all over. 

“You’re so fucking.. Fuck.. I’d turn anyone into gold for you.” His voice shook in your ear. He was sweating and grabbing you so hard. “Oh yeah? Would you do anything for me baby?” You asked as you leaned closer to his face. He opened his eyes and looked at you. 

“I’d do anything for you, baby.” He offered the pet name back. You laughed quietly and kissed him softly. Countering the rough pace he was going.

You two shared a sweet and soft kiss, as the feeling of his dick ramming into you was also present. He loved how soft your lips were. How you let a few moans slip out allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. 

Your tongues danced around each other before he pulled away. Letting out a low moan: a warning of the orgasm he was about to hit. You too let out a soft moan. He slid his cold golden hand down. Circling your clit with his pointer finger, urging you to cum. With each circle you felt yourself getting closer and closer. 

“Cum with me baby, just let it out.” He groaned his request into your ear, with that you felt your self com undone. As you hit your climax a second later he hit his. The warm cum filled you to the brim, he didn’t pull out right away. He sat for a second catching his breath. He looked even hotter here. Your arms had wrapped around his shoulders, his hair sweaty and messed up, eyes droopy from finally hitting his biggest high. 

“You were so good..Maybe i’ll put down a special mission for you to just come in here and-” 

“I’d like that.” you cut him off giving him a kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed back pulling out of you after it ended. 

He walked off to get some tissues to clean you and himself up. Afterwards you stumbled to the door. He rushed over. His tie was crooked and your suit was all wrinkled. Neither of you cared. He helped you down to your room in the upper end of the agency. 

“I’ll see you later, baby.” He flashed a genuine smile before walking out. Your heart skipped a beat. He never smiled.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 8 || The Act of Manipulation

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AS THE TWO OF YOU MAKE OUT,  he walks you back over to his bed and lays you down-- perfectly proving your point that with him it's never just a kiss.

His larger body presses into your own and you feel his hands sliding down to lift his shirt off you. Gojo then pulls away from your lips for a second to whisper to you, "I have class in an hour." He murmurs.

You grin, "Then we should stop."

Gojo kisses your bottom lip and then moves to your cheek, "Don't wanna."

Your hands unconsciously move to play with the back stands of his hair, "You should start getting ready."

"But I kinda," He kisses under your neck, "...wanna eat you out," Gojo says suddenly.

You flinch a little, "You don't have time for that, Satoru."

He smiles against your skin, "Yeah I do."

"No, you don't."

A grumble is felt against you and Gojo pulls up from your body. His eyes are full of admiration while he looks at you. The man falls quiet but he seems to have given in on your protest.

After a while of staring at you, Gojo lets out a sigh. "You should come with me," He suggests.

Your eyebrow raises in confusion, "Come with you... where?"

"To class." He says casually as he slides off the bed, leaving you lying there.

You laugh at his casualty, "I can't just come to class with you."

"Sure you can," Gojo argues as he heads into his closet, "You're a psychology major right?" he calls out.

You blink. "...How did you know that?"

"I asked Shoko a long time ago," He responds, leaving his closet with a shirt in his hands, "But anyways, you can use that as an excuse."

"How...?"

"If my professor asks why you're there, which he probably will, you can just say you came with me for a project you're working on."

"Okay," You nod along. It's not a bad plan, you've actually done that before with some of Shoko's classes and it's worked for you. "But why am I doing all of this anyway...?"

"Well," Gojo pulls his shirt over his head, "Two of the people on the list are in that class and you can meet both of them."

You perk up, "Really, who?"

"You won't know them by their names."

"Okay, well just tell me their names and which face it goes with."

"Well, for starters... I maybe should've told you this sooner but," He sighs and looks away from you, "You have to seduce my professor."

You choke on air, "I'm sorry, what?!?"

Gojo sends you an innocent little smile as if that'll make up for the information he's just given you, "In my defense, I didn't mean for his kid to break his leg."

"W-What?"

"That's the thing I owe him for. See, I babysit from time to time, and uh, his kid broke his leg on my watch..."

"And now you want me to sleep with him to make up for your mistake? That makes no fucking sense, Gojo." You snap.

He winces, "Aw, don't be mad at meeee. It was an accident, truly. And uh... Well, I have a bit of a reputation for getting people hook-ups."

"Right so lemme just, put all this together." You huff. Your hands move to message your temples to prevent the oncoming headache, "You babysat his kid, the kid broke his leg, and now you owe your professor something. Which, according to you, means that you owe him... a date with someone?"

"Nope, I owe him a quick fuck with someone."

"How did you even..." You scoff, "How the hell did you two agree on that kinda thing?? And what the fuck were you gonna do if you couldn't blackmail me into this shit?"

He scratches the back of his head, "You sound angry..."

"I am!" You huff, "Can't he get fired for sleeping with a student?! A-And can't I get kicked out???"

"Don't get caught."

"Gojo, I swear to god, I'm gonna fucking kill you."

He frowns and gives you a pleading look, "C'mon, all you have to do is-"

"No, stop that. Don't all you have to do is fuck him, because that's not all I have to do. I have to put my dignity aside and approach a professor like some kinda needy little whore for your sake!" You yell at him, causing the man to tense up where he stands.

Gojo doesn't exactly like seeing you upset with him, "See, I could understand your best friend, and maybe anyone else who's not a teacher. But god damnit, do you know how insane this all sounds?" You ask.

The air goes quiet and Gojo is unsure how to respond to that.

Your glare is continuous and you decide to keep rambling since he won't respond, "A professor, Satoru." You emphasize, trying your best to make him understand that this is crazy. "Are you seriously gonna force me to do this...? C-Can't you just delete that video of me? T-Then, maybe, I'll still help you with the list but..."

The man notices you're on the verge of tears, clearly overwhelmed by all the shit you'll have to put up with because of him.

"I can't fuck a teacher." You mumble.

Gojo grits his teeth. "I don't want to force you to do this-"

"Then don't! Delete the video and leave me the fuck alone!!" You shout.

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?!"

Because once that video is gone, there is no excuse he'll have to be around you.

And yeah, it's fucked up, he knows that. But deleting the video means two things; one, he has no more leverage over you and can't force you to help him with the hole he's dug for himself. And two; well, if you don't sleep with his teacher, he'll fail the class.

"Because," Gojo says carefully, slowly walking over to you. He approaches the bed and stands right in front of you, ignoring the glare you're giving him. "I need you." He whispers.

You stare back and forth between his left and right eye for a minute. Why does your heart feel all weird? It's not like he means he romantically needs you. He just wants to use you. For all you know, Gojo will be quick to discard you after all this is over.

That very thought only pisses you off even more and you end up raising a hand up and shoving him away from you. You then stand and stomp away, toward his bedroom door. "You don't need me Gojo, I'm not an idiot. You just want to use me. Fucking asshole." You squeak out with your hand on the doorknob.

Gojo is quick to rush over to where you are and lean over you, pressing a hand to his door to keep it shut. "I know that's what I'm doing but I'm serious..." He murmurs, dropping down to rest his forehead on your shoulder, "You're my only option right now."

"Delete the video."

"I told you, I can't."

"Then, y'know what..." You turn around and face him, causing his head to rise from your shoulder and his eyes to meet your angered ones. "Post the video. Go ahead, slut shame me and make the rest of my life a living hell." You say with teary eyes.

Obviously, you don't want him to do that but somewhere deep down inside you hope he'll give in and just-

"Alright," Gojo says.

You blink.

"I'll post it." He says lowly, the look in his eyes suddenly dark. Gojo leans down to you and you back into the door, "Then, I'll send it to everyone I know. After that, I'll make sure to tell everyone about it. I want the whole school to see what a fucking slut you are. And if that's not enough, Suguru has a video of you from last night so, I'll make sure everyone sees that as well."

You're heart sinks and nothing but sheer fear is reflected in your eyes. You're about to cry and you can't believe this is the same man who sometimes acts like he can hardly live without you. This can't be the same man who was all playful with you earlier that morning, right?

Oh wait... that's right. You nearly forgot; you and Gojo don't have that kind of relationship. You never did. He's just using you for his benefit. He's an asshole, something you start to realize will never change.

All those loving looks he gave you, those stupid compliments and those dumbass tender touches were all fake. It was all to trick you into trusting him and this is where it got you-- right back where you started, cowling in fear of the man exposing you and ruining your future.

"I hate you." You croak out, tears dripping down from your eyes.

Gojo has to try with his soul to ignore the way your words pain his heart. He has to shove down the urge to take it all back and apologize, to just drop to his knees and beg you to forgive him, and to simply stop you from crying like this.

A shaky breath leaves his lips but he just barely manages to maintain the threateningly serious look in his eyes. Mentally Gojo utters an I'm sorry but, the only thing you hear from him is a low, "I know, sweetheart. I know..."

You turn your head away from him and aggressively wipe the wetness from your face, "You're... an asshole. S-So fucking evil. Even satan would be nicer to me," You bable.

His expression softens, "You don't mean that-"

"I do." You say, turning to him once more, "I really do. You're the worst, Gojo. The fucking worst. After this stupid ass list, I want you to delete that video of me and never even think about me again, okay?"

"I..."

"I'm serious. No matter how much you apologize for it, no matter how much you beg, I will never forgive you for putting me through this shit." You spat. Then, you move to push him away.

Gojo allows himself to stumble back and he doesn't know what to say or any way he can fix this.

You go for the door again and pause to say one last thing, "If it's not for this dumbass list, don't text me, don't call me, don't ask about me, and again, don't even fucking think about me." You say finally before exiting.

The door slams behind you and Gojo is simply frozen. He knows he fucked up. He knows he shouldn't be doing this. Part of him wants to stop but it's like it all just got serious. As said before, in the beginning, everything with you just happened out of pure coincidence.

He never meant to record you and he still has no plans on ever exposing anything about you anywhere. But, only he knows that. Even his threat now was another bluff. The only thing Gojo really needs is for you to satisfy the people he owes.

It's selfish of him and seriously fucked up but, he's said it before and he'll say it over and over again-- you're all he has. He made promises to everyone on that list, promises of delivering a woman to them at some point, and of course, he couldn't convince anyone he knew to do such a thing.

So again, the situation with you just happened to be a coincidence.

The problem is that Gojo hates that it's you. He hates that you're the one he ended up doing this to. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuck!" Gojo curses, gripping the phone in his hand before throwing it across the room.

There's no one he can be mad at aside from himself, he knows that too. His heart is thrumming in his chest, the sound of you claiming to hate him and that feared look in your eyes embedded into his brain. He'll never be able to forget that.

Meanwhile, you refused to let yourself be mentally manipulated into thinking he might've actually cared about you at some point. As you left the room, you spotted Geto in the kitchen. He heard nearly everything and isn't sure what to say to you.

You give him no words, only glaring at him as you walk over to the living room and find your dress from the night prior neatly folded up on the couch. You don't even care if Geto can see as you snatch Gojo's shirt off your body and change.

After that, you move over to the front door and messily put your shoes back on. Geto quietly watches you, wondering if he should say something.

You don't want him to. Hell, you don't want to hear a word from anyone. The most you want to do right now is go home and cry about the stupid situation you got yourself into.

Aside from Gojo, you blame yourself too. You should've had your damn bedroom door closed. You know you didn't expect anyone to come in, especially not Gojo but, still, it should've been closed.

The second you get your shoes on and reach for the door, you can hear Gojo coming out of his room.

Your head turns back and you see him standing in the hallway. "Oh yeah, the price? Doubled. I want four thousand for every person."

"You can't just-"

"I can, and I just did. That also includes what I just did with the two of you," You say, gesturing toward both men. "You owe me four thousand, Gojo."

The man utters your name in response, trying to get you to... stay? Wait? Listen to him? He doesn't even know.

"Don't." You whisper. "Don't try to fix this because you can't. I'm going home. Come... pick me up whenever you're ready." You sigh before opening the door and leaving.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The apartment is left in silence and Geto is standing there a bit confused. After a few minutes, he speaks, "Go after her, idiot."

"You don't get it, Suguru. I fucked up." The man groans as he moves to walk into the kitchen.

His roommate shrugs, "We all fuck up sometimes. She'll forgive you eventually."

"Running after her won't fix what I just said to her."

"Maybe not." Geto agrees, "But, it'll show her you hold some kinda compassion for the situation you put her in."

Gojo rolls his eyes, "What are you, a therapist now?"

"No, I'm a man with common sense. I mean, seriously... You're gonna make her seduce everyone you owe?"

"...You heard that, huh?"

"Yeah." Geto says, shaking his head, "That's fucked up-"

Gojo grows annoyed with hearing those words, "I know! I know it's fucked up-"

"Do you? Do you understand how bad that actually is?" Geto argues, "Satoru, I don't mean to put salt on the wound but, you can't expect for her to ever understand how you feel about her after this."

Gojo doesn't reply to that.

"And, did I hear you say you wanted her to sleep with your professor?" His best friend asks.

"Yeah..." Gojo says with a lazy nod.

Geto scoffs, "Mr. Fushiguro?"

"Yup."

"Dude, isn't he married?"

"No."

"Okay well," Geto thinks for a second, "Doesn't he hate you?"

Gojo nods, "Yep."

"You really think she'll be able to pull this off for you?" The male asks with genuine concern. "Especially after you just threatened her again?"

"I was lying," Gojo admits.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one, you didn't record her last night-- I just told her you did. And secondly, I deleted my video of her the day after I got it."

Geto's face twists up in shock, "...Are you serious?? So, what happens when she finds out??"

"She won't." His friend murmurs, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"How?"

"Cause' by the time she gets close to figuring that out, I'll have other stuff to blackmail her with."

"Wow, didn't know I was friends with a madman," Geto responds, clearly disappointed with his friend. "That's kinda low, don't you think?"

Gojo shrugs, "She's all I have."

"Tell her that."

"I did."

"Then tell her you deleted the video a long time ago. After that, try begging her to keep helping you, I'm pretty sure I heard her say she would." His friend advises.

"She won't fuck a teacher unless she's being threatened to so, after that... I'll..." Gojo trails off for a second. He's afraid that by that point the truth won't help him. "I'll tell her the truth."

"Really?" Geto asks, clearly not believing him.

He hesitates for a second before uttering a simple, "Y-Yeah."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

With that, Gojo has to mentally prepare himself to do such a thing. Are you even going to help after that? Probably not...

As he thinks about this, he eventually leaves Geto in the kitchen to go fetch his phone. When he gets the device, he notices he cracked it but shrugs it off. Gojo is quick to have that increased four thousand sent to you, gritting his teeth as he does so.

I hate you. Fuck, those words won't leave him alone. You were so serious too. And to think he just had you in his arms, hugging and kissing him, to go and fuck all that up later.

The chances of him repairing this relationship with you are looking very slim to none. You were very clear in saying that you have no plans of ever forgiving him but, maybe, just maybe Gojo can make it up to you.

Does he know how he'll do that? No.

Is that going to stop him from trying? Hell no.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

??? ☐

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