#there are moments when their humanity and even traces of kindness peek through! sure! only to be crushed again a moment later

[wernerherzogs]

I cant put my finger on why exactly maybe its just my anxiety. Some of the ways they were acting and the decisions people make that I know is gonna be bad are rough to watch sometimes. The writing and acting is great so i wanna keep going just kinda want to know how far they are gonna go w how bad these people are. Its funnier than I thought tho

it's VERY funny a lot of the time, but at its core it's a greek or shakespearan tragedy with Very Bad characters as protagonists/modern royalty (royalty coming from new money and speaking foul contemporary language). they get Worse with every season, i think, anon 😔

[blzzrdstryr]

Generous offering

Yandere!Zhongli x gn!Fatui Harbinger!reader

Wordcount:1843

CW:Yandere themes

There are several simple things one should know before dealing with the archons - be respectful and polite, speak only when you’re allowed to and most importantly - never forget that archons aren’t humans.

The first two rules are instinctive - it’s natural for humans to simper and bow before the forces far greater than them, while the latter is not; on the contrary it’s counterintuitive and unexpected. People tend to project, tend to humanize - they see kindness when there’s none and make a huge mistake of assuming that archons see things the way they see it.

Tsaritsa, for example, lacks humanity, despite holding the title of Goddess of Love. The love that she holds for you is different from love mothers and fathers give to their children, or love that young sweethearts share at night, it’s cold and impersonal and undeniably cruel.

Tsaritsa says that she loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, yet she lashes out a harsh and gruelling punishments at every perceived failure and rules her land with an iron fist, one would think that the cryo archon is a liar and a hypocrite, who uses pretty, flowery words to hide the atrocities she commits, but this perspective is flawed. Tsaritsa loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, she’s just not human enough to properly express this.

That’s why it’s a bit jarring to see the ancient lord of these lands in his mortal form - he lacks the same otherworldly terror and grandiose that every of Tsaritsa’s move and word carry, yet he also possesses the air of wisdom and elegance so refined that rare person can reach it. It’s easy to assume that he’s human.

Rex Lapis, or “Zhongli” as he calls himself now invites you to the Liuli pavillion the second day after your arrival, for tea and local cuisine as he says, and who are you to decline a God?

Liuli staff hurries and dashes around, preparing their best room for you - Fatui are known for their seemingly endless finances, no wonder they’re in haste. “Please make yourself comfortable, dear guests”, the waiter curtsies and leads you to the dining room, which happens to be richly furnished and decorated with high-quality darkwood furniture and the hand painted wall panels further accentuating the luxury of the restaurant.

One of these panels illustrate different scenes from the Liyuen mythos - a battle of mighty and wise adepti against the horde of demons, Rex Lapis aiding his people in building the Harbour and the most spectacular one - a majestic dark brown dragon with golden fur and feathers descending to the devoted worshippers, who in turn present him with their offerings and gratitude.

He orders tea and meals for both of you, as you start to converse about the plan that he is determined to bring into life - the so-called test of Liyue, and the guarantee of you obtaining his gnosis.

“And what about your colleague?”, he sips a bit of his tea, intense amber eyes piercing right through you. He looks both human and non-human in this moment, both undeniably mortal softness and frailty seen in his figure and the barely concealed divinity, the sense of awe slowly seeping into air mixing in one person.

“And what about him? Tsaritsa and you have negotiated everything beforehand, I will make sure that he plays his part properly”, he hums at your answer, lowering his gaze deep in thought. You start on your own tea.

Ah, Childe, if only he knew why exactly he’s here - a distraction and a scapegoat. You even feel bad for him - it’s truly unfair to be lied to by your own Goddess. However, it’s also not a big surprise - Childe is the loudest out of all Harbingers in all senses. Infamous for his skills and battle obsession, his name is enough to have people both shivering in fear and cursing him.

“What do you think of your archon? Was serving her of any use to you?”Rex Lapis unexpectedly asks.

You lean back in your seat, thinking what to say.

“Tsaritsa is a gentle soul, she declared war only to protect us, her subjects and I am ready to aid her in whatever undertaking she starts”.

“Will you continue to serve Tsaritsa, if her action might put you in danger, make you suffer and bring unnecessary grief?”, he leans closer to you, his human features distorting enough to reveal the ancient dragon sleeping inside. His eyes shine a cold golden glow and accurate fingernails morph into sharp, dark claws.

“Yes”, you breathe out, mesmerized and terrified by the sudden change: “Her love knows no bounds, yet she always puts the needs of the nation before anyone else. If my suffering can help Snezhnaya, then I will accept it with open arms”, he moves back at your answer, all draconic traces gone in an instance, upper corner of his lips subtly rising - whatever you said must’ve pleased him immensely.

The conversation flows back into the territory of plans to be realized, yet the cold sensation of dread still clings to you, your gut feeling yelling at you to get up and run. You remain seated to the end of your meeting, politely conversing with the God that terrifies you.

***

Days slowly grow into weeks and Childe acts just as you have expected - the Eleventh Harbinger might be smart, yet even he wouldn’t be able to see what two of you are scheming. Still, you request Ekaterine, a spy you planted in Northland bank, to keep you updated on the Tartaglia’s actions - extra caution never hurts.

You continue to meet up with geo archon, as you two discuss your next actions. Tartaglia has started cooperating with that blonde foreigner Signora has warned you about, and while this union doesn’t pose any threat to your plans, it’s always good to have a plan B, just in case something happens.

Sometimes your conversation develops into a more unexpected direction, as you find the archaic lord more chatty and tending to ramble, than any of Liyuen historians would dare to picture him as. One on such occasion he talks with you about dragons - benevolent deities who protect and bless their people in an exchange of generous offerings.

His eyes devour you, as he retells you ancient folktales and you suppress your discomfort, preferring to attribute his honestly unnerving behaviour down to his lack of humanity - he was never human in the first place.

That’s why you also prohibit yourself from viewing him as anything but God - Rex Lapis in his “Zhongli” persona is genuinely attractive, he’s well-mannered and obviously handsome and far more knowledgeable than any mortal should be. If you didn’t know of his true nature you would have fallen for him by now - it’s hard not to.

Life, how strange that wouldn’t sound, goes as usual - you get Ekaterine’s report on what Childe’s up to and if it’s something unexpected you book a Liuli pavilion room and send an invitation to the funeral parlour consultant. You only need to wait until Childe gets desperate enough and decides to use the sigils of permission to unleash the well-awaited chaos.

This routine however is soon broken by the appearance of familiar ashy-white hair in the distance. She doesn’t wear her signature mask or dress, nor are there agents at both of her sides, yet you can still clearly recognize her. Signora leaves the Wangsheng building in haste, cape with the hood concealing most of her face and figure, except the long locks of hair, peeking from inside.

What is she doing here?

You thought that Tsaritsa sent two of her servants - Tartaglia and you, him to “test” Liyue, you to oversee the former’s actions and obtain gnosis, there’s no need to send her too.

Your mind races, as you search for a logical explanation of Signora’s presence as your memory supplies the piece of first conversation you had with “Zhongli” - could it be that Tsaritsa also sent you to play a role you have no idea of?

Cryo archon is a goddess of love and her love is cruel and unforgiving, she has sacrificed countless chess pieces before, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she did that again - you are nothing but a pawn after all, one of the tools she uses to exact her will and force her vision, all of the Harbingers are.

You want to believe that you can accept and resign to whatever hardship and fate your Goddess might subject you to. You can’t.

***

Adepti and Qixing converse at the pier of the seaport, as you hurry to the Northland Bank, a slight smile playing on your lips - Childe has finally done it - he summoned an ancient god to lure out Rex Lapis, ultimately proving that Liyue can stand without him.

There are sounds of heated argument heard when you open the building’s door and then you see it - Signora and Tartaglia exchanging barely concealed insults and “Zhongli” standing nearby.

“[Harbinger]? What are you doing here?”, the ginger shifts his gaze onto you, a rare emotion of hurt and disbelief flickering in his dead fish eyes. “Of course, Tsaritsa sent you too”, he smiles, angry and disappointed. “Seems that whole world wants to make a bad guy out of me”, he stomps out of the room, leaving you with Signora and “Zhongli”

“[Harbinger]”

“Signora'', you acknowledge each other, after she trails exiting Childe with her eyes.

“I am here to take the gnosis of Rex Lapis”, she says and you nod, accepting that your Goddess lied to you too: “Tsaritsa also asked me to give you this letter”, she extends her arm, a thick envelope with the familiar seal catching your attention.

With the trembling hands you snatch it out of her hold and almost rip the envelope - for what reason did Tsaritsa send you here?

She writes that you need to stay in Liyue for an undetermined period of time to upkeep “the agreement” made between her and Rex Lapis. You read her message silently, yet when your eyes trace over these words, the sensation of “ “Zhongli’s” eyes on you becomes ten times sharper and stifling. You don’t know what to do.

The other Harbinger leaves too, taking the gnosis with her, as “Zhongli” takes a couple of steps to you, touching your shoulder in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “[First]”, he starts, tone sympathetic and soothing. You don’t fall for it.

“You had your hand in it, didn't you?”, you hiss and accuse, throwing an angry glance at him, momentarily forgetting about the first two rules of dealing with archons.

He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs, his surprisingly scaly hands snaking around yours. “Yes”, Rex Lapis admits, and looks nothing like gentle and knowledgeable “Zhongli”. How could you forget? Archons aren’t humans, humanity is just a fancy dress they don to toy with mortals. He is the dragon, not the benevolent deity that is painted on the wall panels of Liuli pavillion, but a greedy and ancient creature, hungry for gifts and gratitude.

You are his generous offering.

[fatuilady]

— 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭. (NSFW)

✦ word count : 1.7𝐤

✦ feat : 𝐆𝐍 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 , [𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭] 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

✦ cw : 𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 , 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 , 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 , 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 , 𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 , 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 :

— a certain fatui member is insistent that those of his level of importance don't have time to spare to waste on crying. little did he know, his rival intended to take him up on his statement all with the intent to conclude just exactly how much it takes to make a harbinger cry.

'Harbingers don't cry. It's below somebody of my position.'

The fatui's most valued redhead wore his confidence through his infamous, upturned smirk. He held his relaxed arms knotted together in definite security, crossed against his chest as he lifted his chin to further assert his prior statement. Though he spoke in a self-assured tonality, cockiness resonated in his ultimatum.

It was surely said to coax a remark from you, it was too obviously laced with brimming arrogance to not be some form of verbal mouse trap. It was amusing, how he attempted to retain his mirage of false strength.

'Is that so?'

You pursed your lips, allowing him to add to his curiously delusive ideology. His impudence was mildly beguiled and for the first instance in the whole of your passive-aggressive rivalry, his nerve began to agitate every one of yours. Challenging him with a simple three-part chuckle, you observed him as he shifted his posture. Just how much would it take to change his thesis?

'Tears come from weakness, something that I refuse to display.'

On it's own, it was a rather insensitive statement, considering he was by no means unshakeable. You both knew very well that he was going to contradict himself strongly in due time.

He was going to eat those words.

And he was going to like it.

You tied each finger into the auburn wefts atop his head, stray hints of frustration collecting together as he writhes, shifting and squirming. It was something you had discovered in the moment: he was incredibly hair sensitive. The way your nails dug into his tender scalp, pulling on every fibre sent electrical pulses through his skin.

Tugging sharply, you craned his head to the left. From such stark force, he stumbled, both on his feet and on a choked out groan. It was laughable, how quickly the tables turned at your hands.

'Harbingers don't cry?'

His previously smirking lip now quivered as you projected your words right into his ear. Admittedly, he made his statement with an absent mind. Would he have expected such a one-dimensional outlook would leave him back exposed, red-kneed as his rivalling other half forced each of his four limbs into the hardwood?

Would he have expected to warm up so easily to the situation?

No, but it was more likely than he thought.

You alleviated your grip on his hair, consequently dropping him onto his palms. He flinched once more as his forearms quaked, barely able to support the weight of your hefty boot on his lower back. He should have been thankful you blessed him with permission to keep his pants, however the elemental energy you emanated stung his bare back, torturing him as he shivered with anticipation.

'Pathetic, really.'

With utmost care, he peeked behind him through the space between his quivering forelimbs.

Childe's usual front, being the fatui's most infamous prodigy, didn't allow him to show any sign of submissiveness, however, what he saw flushed him with a feeling he'd never even considered before. It was one of desperation.

One of want.

One of need.

A critical shadow cut across your face, cast sinisterly over your newfound sadistic smile. It bore into him, made him feel queasy, weak at the joints. It was wrong for him to feel excitement prickle upon seeing you assert him in such a way. It was wrong for him to betray the very rules of his nation in the name of his own masochistic desire. It was wrong for him to want to brand the outlines of your sick face into his mind with a hot iron. It was wrong for him to indulge in the very actions he enjoyed inflicting on others.

Yet, it felt right to entertain them.

It felt right to submit and toss the coin to it's most opposite face.

It felt all too right to fall prey to his feral instincts.

'P-please...'

The address was barely audible in ordinary circumstances, but in a barren room, it was alarmingly loud. So loud that Childe couldn't recognise his own voice. It was subordinate, faltering and breaking apart with every syllable. The eleventh harbinger had never uttered such a word in his life; it was an address to a superior, something someone of his recognised status would never dream of choking out underneath someone he held such strong taunting against.

You caught ear of what he uttered, much to his controversial dismay. It was indeed a delight to hear on your part. Pressing your boot further into the base of his spine, you revelled in his weary whimpers. For such an accomplished warrior, he seemed particularly weak to human touch. Perhaps it was a double-edged blade, performing so well that no opponent could touch him also meant that in this irregular instance, he upheld the resistance of a flimsy piece of parchment when it came to withstanding another's force. Entertaining this now obvious forbidden fantasy of his, you unsheathed one of the two foils, a particular favourite from your personal arsenal, from the holsters on your back. It was thin, made rigid with elemental energy in the same way that he materialised his own blades.

They suited you well in previous duels, never once had they failed you against the tyranny of the Fatui, so it was unlikely they would betray you against an unarmed, unhelped and so clearly sexually frustrated opponent.

Such a weapon would not have intimidated him usually, in fact, he also knew how to use it perfectly well and precisely. This time, it struck a kind of taboo enjoyment within him. You performed much differently to him in the dance of battle: he was a jack of all trades, you were more concentrated as a master of one. As you leaned into him once more, you traced the charged edge over his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles underneath contract and tense under your fervorous guidance.

Your control was indeed as masterful as he expected, possibly even too much for him.

'What was that?' You mused, through an invasive grin.

He gasped, the last of his depleting reasoning was begging him to come to his senses. It was quickly fading away into mere electrical impulses that made him twitch with every subtle move. Sabre now pressed to his throat, he felt the power of your vision burn into his skin, adam's apple resting uncomfortably on top of the honing edge.

You were waiting impatiently for a response, minutes elapsed and you quickly discovered you would have to coax it out of him. Digging the blade in further, you forced him onto his knees just so he could avoid an accidental demise.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have minded going out this way. If it was to a more despised enemy, he'd turn his nose at even the thought, but with you, his mind wandered like a lost puppy.

'p-please, m-m...'

He seemed as though he was going to choke out another few syllables, but caught himself, or more likely, became tied up on his own tongue.

'I want that in words,'

'f-a-ah~ p-please, [NAME] I-I'll beg, I swe-swear-'

Before he could finish his statement, you disenchanted your foil, allowing it to lose its structure, falling into a long strand connected to a handle. With a careless flick, it coiled around his neck thrice, all whilst leaving an arm's length of cord, more than enough for you to tug on sharply. He jolted upwards, vocals breaking as he wailed.

'Then beg.'

Childe's eyes widened, the sheer cold was like lightning, superconducting across his skin. It felt euphoric, pinning and placing freezing, soothing pressure on each and every torn muscle. Brimming tears started to swell in his waterline.

How utterly humiliating.

'[N-NAME]...m-ma-' he took a moment to swallow back the saliva pooling in his mouth at the sultry thoughts beating him up below, 'm-make me cry.'

'Is that what you want, pretty boy?' He crumbled at the nickname.

'p-prove m~me wrong...'

And there was all the confirmation you needed.

Taking your chance to dual wield your two rapiers, you disenchanted the other and with one forceful swoop, lashed it right across his bare back.

The initial sound was one of pain, but in mutual desire, he melted into the succeeding throbbing, the stinging coaxing unholy sounds to tumble so effortlessly from his lips. He was very well already on his way to Cloud 9, mind spinning with wishful stars as his vision became blurred.

'youre so pretty when you cry,' you cooed, knowing his pants would be far beyond uncomfortable at this point. Another lash.

'f-gahh~ pl-plea-'

Again.

'It's- too- too much,' you leaned down to kiss his blushing earlobes, listening to him sob over his embarrassing request, 'I- n-need t-'

Again.

'Touch yourself? how crude.' Biting the handle of the cord around his neck, you used your now free hand to hook around the front waistband of his pants. 'Go ahead. That is, if you're so desperate to be vulgar.'

You traced the wicked serpents tongue over his back this time.

A thought quickly came to pass. Your vision trinket illuminated a gentle hue as you crystallised the surface in front of him. Puzzled, initially, he only realised it's purpose when he suddenly saw his reflection gaping back at him, scarlet faced with glazed eyes. You had made the surface reflective with elemental energy, all with the purpose of allowing him to see himself come undone at the seams.

'Are you going to begin? or are you to embarrassed to watch yourself?' Leaning into his other ear, you could feel the hot air from his panting, 'would you rather me drag you like a dog all the way back to Snezhnaya so the Tsaritsa can look upon you in this condition?'

The sounds of his muffled moans and wet slapping of raw skin started to fill the room. Just like that.

'I hope you intend to clean this mess you're making, Ajax, you're leaking all over the floor.'

You were more intent now just to watch him cradle himself to desperately over your mere presence alone, how could you resist disrupting him with occasional thrashing, causing him to jerk his hand harshly.

The eleventh harbinger was foaming at the mouth, growing more non-verbal with every shot you took at him like he was merely just a discarded hilichurl training dummy. It was a cocktail of eroticism, pleading whines, tortured whimpers and shameful cries all shaken up as one.

Childe wasn't usually one to complete his process so quickly, mostly saving the build up, so this was something new for him. He made eye contact with you through the makeshift mirror, the look in his eyes telling you he was about to pop. He had discarded his concern for volume long ago, keen to ride out the feeling under your stern supervision. He figured it was drawing to a close soon, so gave it his all.

You didn't like that.

One of your whips wrapped itself around his working hand, tugging it forcefully away from his work. For a brief moment, he had allowed himself to indulge himself to a point where he forgot who's mercy he was under.

'Ajax.'

You trailed your tongue across his salty cheek, the intoxicating taste of your victory turning the flavour sweet.

'Just who said that you could finish?'

It was a guarantee that you would make him cry about it.

This was a mistake on his part.

But boy, was he glad he made it.

© 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖞 .

[1kook]

one man, no hands

— a some way, some how jungkook drabble summary “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.” warnings established relationship, mechanic jungkook, business woman oc, cunnilingus / eatin out, jk is dirty like in the literal sense rating m (18+) wc 2.5k 

notes am i confident in the title? no. am i stubborn and feel like it has to follow this pattern out of some weird self made obligation? yes, please help me. anyway here is 🔧⚙️ jk and his hot girlfriend once more <3

For the most part, you like to believe you were a pretty composed person. Sure, there are a few instances in your personal history where you exploded, sobbed, cursed the planet to hell and back. But given your chosen career track and the amount of stupidity you dealt with on a daily basis, you’re significantly more mild-mannered compared to your peers. That being said, you were by no means the dictionary definition of serene. After a long day of meeting clients around the city, a rather unsatisfying lunch, and atrocious city traffic—all while breaking in a new pair of heels—there was nothing more satisfying than pulling up to Jungkook’s empty auto shop and huffing out one long, “fuuuck.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind. “Hey, gorgeous,” he calls from over his shoulder, looming over the open hood of yet another innocent vehicle. The metal table beside him holds every tool imaginable. “How’s my sexy department manager doing today?”

“Terrible,” you confess, heels clicking against the concrete floor. You realize he’s hunched over his own car today, a rather rare sight if you’re being completely honest. Jungkook wasn’t the biggest fan of working on his own car(s) at the shop, something about pride and refusing to admit something was wrong with them in front of people who looked up to him. Men, you chuckle, finally closing in on him. 

He’s terribly sweaty, the sweltering heat turning the inside of the garage into a human microwave. “How’s my sexy mechanic doing today,” you hum, throwing all reservations aside to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek. Jungkook, as always, makes sure to nuzzle into the touch. 

“Pretty good,” he replies, taking advantage of your affectionate nature to set aside the tool that had been in his hand. You watch his sturdy fingers reach for the hood of the car, carefully shutting it because he knows you hate the smell of metal. The rag tucked into the pocket of his red jumpsuit is littered with stains, and the half-assed wipe of his hands against it doesn’t help. 

When he turns, that same hand attempts to reach for you, the remnants of oil buried beneath the tips of his fingernails. “Hey,” you warn, intercepting him at the wrist; you’ve spent one too many nights at the local laundromat trying to remove oil from tweed. 

Jungkook frowns, shakes his head to the side in that infuriatingly sexy way that not only lets you see the dark furrow of his shapely brows, but also has the tendons in his neck bulging just the slightest. “Give me a kiss,” he pouts, pretty pink lips fighting off a smile. “I missed you.”

Hands holding onto his wrists, you lean forward, your pointed heel tapping against the dirty toe of his work boots. 

One of your greatest contributions to society was introducing Jungkook to strawberry flavored chapstick, a deed that the universe pays you back tenfold with each kiss he bestows upon you, lips so soft and sweet. If you look past the distinct smells of the auto shop and Jungkook’s own natural scent, you swear you can smell the strawberries. 

It is as you’re trapped in this train of thought that Jungkook manages to overpower you, abruptly stepping forward enough to throw you off balance. Your gravity shifts, and while your heartbeat may spike for a moment, you know he’d never let you fall. “Easy there, beautiful,” he grins, one tatted arm wrapped around you. He’s got that stupidly cocky grin on, the one that usually proceeds some stupid or horny thought. 

Lo and behold, a second later he says, “can I eat you out?”

You roll your eyes, placing two hands against his chest. Jungkook takes it as a sign of your approval and moves in for a second kiss, only for you to shove him away with a huff. “You haven’t even showered, smelly,” you chide, straightening out the front of your blazer in a rather snooty manner that has Jungkook scoffing. 

“Please?” he tries again, not the slightest bit phased by the unimpressed look you throw his way. “I’ll wash my hands.”

“Jungkook,” you level, settling into one of the many rolling seats that decorate the floor of Jungkook’s garage, your cell phone placed down on the metal table nearby. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the familiar paper wrapping of the deli down the street, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you eat at Shin’s for lunch? I don’t want your onion breath on my intimates.”

Jungkook steps in front of you, looking down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Well then,” he says calmly, and then, drops to his knees in front of you. It has you jolting in surprise. Before you can accidentally send yourself rolling across the floor, Jungkook catches your ankle in one hand, tugging you forward until your knee presses against his side. “It’s a good thing that was Jimin’s lunch and not mine.” 

“Kook,” you gasp, the muscles in your legs weak against the grip he has on the back of your knees. The muscles in his forearms tense up as he slowly pries your thighs apart, leaning down to place a rather soft kiss against your knee. The tenderness of his kiss shouldn’t be surprising, but it never fails to make you inhale sharply, hands slowly coming to rest against his shoulders. 

The brush of your fingers against him has his eyes flickering up to meet yours, strawberry sweet lips curling into a smile. “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.”

One shaky exhale later, you find yourself slowly nodding along, fingers burying themselves within the dark tresses of his hair. “No hands,” you remind him one final time, letting him manhandle you out of your panties. “And be gen—“

Your words are swallowed up by the surprised squeak that slips through your lips upon Jungkook’s first long lick over your slit. “I’ve got you,” he chuckles, the low and breathy kind that makes your skin tingle. “Hold on to me.”

“What the— fuck!” you exclaim, pulling at his hair in sheer fright when he whirls your chair around suddenly, pushes you the three feet until your chair is bumping against the front of his bumper, appropriately named. “Jungkook,” you scold, roughly yanking him up by his hair. “Don’t do that.”

“Shh,” he hushes, but the shock still has your heart thumping a little too quickly. You pinch his ear. Jungkook shakes you off just as quickly, throws you a childish glare. “You’ll need the support.”

The opportunity to question him never comes, because a second later Jungkook is tugging you forward in your seat, knees neatly placed over his shoulders for easy access to your pussy. You did need the support, you realize, back pressed against the curve of the hood as Jungkook begins the rather torturous process of teasing you. 

As promised, his hands rest over your thighs, thick fingers digging into the soft skin as he descends upon you, one featherlight kiss pressed against your mound. The polite greeting of his lips is followed by the not-so-polite greeting of his tongue, the warm and wet muscle caressing your clit. 

Your breathing hitches, a pleasant warmth settling in your core. It blossoms quickly, stamps out the remnants of fear from a few minutes ago. Jungkook’s tongue plays a key role in that change, nudging your clit back and forth carefully as he listens to the subtle alterations in your breathing. 

After the day you’ve had, the delicate way Jungkook laps against you has you melting, both into his touch and against the cold metal of the hood behind you. “Oh,” you pant, eyelids fluttering at the kiss he places against your labia. 

He’s relatively quiet today, just soft sighs against your cunt. Without his hands, you’re surprised by how easily he navigates his way along your lips, tongue nudging your folds apart. The round tip of his nose throws you for a loop as he kisses down your slit, the soft skin unintentionally brushing against your throbbing clit. (Or maybe intentionally— you never really knew with Jungkook.)

At your quivering entrance, he pauses, pulling back with glistening lips and dark eyes. “Good?” he murmurs, tongue peeking out at the corner to trace across his red lips. Another shake of his head, dark strands tickling his cheekbones. 

“So good,” you exhale, releasing one hand from it’s trembling grip in his hair. You press it against the side of Jungkook’s face instead. Briefly, the tips of your fingers brush against his ear, an action that makes his eyelashes flutter, mouth dropping open just as your thumb presses against his lower lip. “Make me cum,” you command, as if you aren’t completely at his mercy right now. 

Still, Jungkook humors you. His pearly teeth playfully bite down against your thumb, a smile making its way across his features when you pull away. “You got it, boss,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes. “You’re the boss here,” you mumble, shivers running down your spine when he ducks back down once more. 

Lips suctioned around your clit, your thighs quiver beneath his touch. A soft whine pulls itself from your throat, hand jerking forward to grasp at the white undershirt he’s got on, stained like always. Jungkook ups the intensity, pulling away with a loud pop only to bestow a chaste kiss against your sensitive clit. “Please,” you whimper. It takes every last remaining ounce of self-control to keep yourself from accidentally clamping your legs shut around him, hips jerking forward as he licks his way down your slit once more. 

His tongue dips its way between your folds, over your quivering opening, as if he’s circling where he’ll pleasure you next. A second later, you feel your entire body tense up momentarily as he slips his tongue in. It’s nowhere near as girthy as his cock, barely comes close to two of his fingers. But there’s something about Jungkook being so close, mouth against your pussy, that sends a shock of electricity straight there. 

“Oh— Oh, god,” you sigh, head lolling back, tapping against the hood of Jungkook’s car. 

The fingers digging into your skin tighten to the point of bruising, his hands growing anxious with every breathless moan drawn out from you. His plush lower lip is warm against your puffy skin, hot breath fanning over your wet folds as his tongue slowly works its way in and out. Slow, painstakingly slow. The speed has you growing restless, legs threatening to lock around his head, pushing him against your cunt until he can’t breathe. 

It’s a good thing Jungkook is the one in control, his flattened tongue trailing one, long lick over your pussy. It starts at your entrance, glistening with arousal and his saliva, and ends at your clit. You’re almost certain you can feel your heartbeat through the bundle of nerves, releasing a loud cry at the way the tip of his tongue flicks against it once more. 

The muscles in your legs, tired from walking all across the city, spasm beneath his ministrations. Your shoulders, tight from the weight of your responsibilities, relax back against the warm metal hood. Every kiss Jungkook places against you has you melting, feeling so unbelievably pampered. “Fuck, J- Jungkook— baby,” you whimper, letting go of his shoulder to bite down on your knuckles. 

Jungkook breathes harshly against you, brows furrowed together as he focuses on making you feel good. The sight of his handsome face buried between your thighs makes you shiver, jolt when he pushes his tongue into your entrance once more and begins slowly thrusting it in and out. It’s so wet, mixes with your arousal and makes this lewd sound that only fans the flames of your pleasure, fingernails pressed against his shoulders and then burying themselves against his scalp. 

It doesn’t take much longer, fatigue and pleasure catching up to you all at once, accumulating in a toe-curling orgasm unlike your usual ones. It’s quieter, filled with stuttered gasps instead, Jungkook’s name occasionally finding its way into the mix. By the end of it, you find yourself fretting over the state of your boyfriend’s scalp, having pulled it roughly at the height of your pleasure. 

“How cute,” Jungkook hums softly, eventually releasing one of your trapped legs from over his shoulder. He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, transferring a dark stain of something onto his porcelain skin. In that moment, you’re glad you banned the usage of his hands on your pussy. Without anything to hold it up, your leg slips down, the impact of your heel against the concrete sending a tingling pain up your leg. 

“Ouch,” you murmur, and then find yourself demurely covering your exposed pussy, still glistening with cum and saliva. At your modesty, Jungkook snorts, releasing your other leg only to surge forward and knock his forehead against yours. “Ouch,” you repeat, the stinging pain exacerbated when Jungkook pushes himself closer.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, smiles that devilish smile that makes him look like a Calvin Klein model. His hands are at your waist, helping you tug your skirt back down. It’s nothing grand, but your rose-tinted view makes you swoon at the way he manhandles you. He’s dangerously handsome, has you mindlessly wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Say about what?” you mumble, hypnotized by the cherry hue of his lips, and the fact they probably taste like you. 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he pauses just in time to say, “how was my onion breath?” 

You’ve never pushed someone away fast enough, nearly impaling him with the sharpened heel of your shoe against his chest. It sends him tumbling back, a rough cough mixed with a boyish chuckle, the dorky kind as he sprawls himself over the dirty concrete floor of his auto shop. It’s as you’re glaring down at your immature boyfriend and what you’re certain is a tiny puddle of motor oil beside his head, that you realize this is your life now. Men, you think bitterly. 

“I hate you,” you announce childishly. You find your discarded panties on the metal table beside a goddamn wrench. You fling it at his chest, only the slightest bit turned on when he raises it up for a sniff. “Mmm,” he purrs, letting the flimsy fabric rest over his eyes. You don’t even have it in you to scold him on how dirty that is, instead nudging his side with your shoe. “You know,” he says, catching your ankle in his hand. He guides your foot over him, surprising you when he places it directly over his chest. “I had a dream like this in high school,” he confesses, making your face heat up. “Think it was because of those 50 Shades of Grey books we found in your attic.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[tothemeadow]

I haven't seen much people requesting for snake bby so obanai x demon reader pls?Reader is like a succubus type of demon and when sent on a mission to kill her he falls into her clutches and it ends with smut 👀

‘in my dreams’ / Iguro O. x Reader

PLEASE STOP SLEEPING ON THIS MAN

warnings: NSFW, Obanai is a boob man, dream fucking?

words: 2,793

(a/n): I might’ve gotten carried away a bit

-

He’s always heard that sharks can smell blood on the water.

He isn’t a stranger to blood himself, used to the sightly images of gore and the rancid odor. It’s simply another part of his hellish life, bearing witness to mutilated remains of bodies and hunting down their killer.

It’s all in a day’s work.

It’s strange, though, when there aren’t any bodies to be found. Rumors of disappearances plague the night, travel from lips to ears, slowly spreading throughout the small town.

Takahashi’s daughter disappeared last night.

The doctor’s oldest son? Haven’t you heard? He’s gone.

For such a large number of people to be suddenly up and vanishing, it’s no wonder concerns have risen. It’s why Obanai’s here in the first place, determined to sniff out the culprit and promptly execute them. He’s dealt with similar cases before – finding the missing persons, only to find their remains or couple of bones – but this time… Well, it’s weird, to say the least. Not one person in this town knows where anybody could be, no strange sightings or feelings, nothing.

And, if Obanai is going to be completely honest, it’s infuriating as hell.

He’s not a patient person in the slightest. Perhaps that’s his curse and the sole reason why this case isn’t going anywhere; still, with the lingering danger hanging over these poor people’s heads, he needs to end this quickly. And so, cooped up in a small room at the town’s inn, he pours over his scribbling of notes, wondering just what kind of force he’s dealing with.

A demon’s nature can vary, depending on what kind you encounter. Obanai’s had his fair share of strange interactions – whether it be demons with multiple arms, pygmies, the facial features of a fly - he's nearly seen at all. But to take victims without leaving a single trace? That's where things get complicated.

"Dammit," Obanai grumbles, dragging a hand over his face. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue in concern, sensing his owner's unease.

This isn't going anywhere. The amount of time or effort spent trying to figure out where everyone has vanished isn't amounting to anything. How could this be? Obanai isn't some low level slayer, for gods' sakes - he's a Pillar. It shouldn't be this hard to put two and two together, yet here he is, staring blankly at his collected information. The idea of sending his crow to summon for help crosses his mind, but he hastily throws away the thought. No, that's not how this is done. He isn't willing to give up so easily.

As the hours drag further into the night, Obanai grows restless, twitchy. His striped haori sits to the side, folded neatly along with the shirt and overcoat of his uniform. Kaburamaru is already fast asleep, coiled into a tight circle at the edge of the futon. The wooden hatches of the window hang open, the night breeze drifting into the room with the sound of a singular solemn cricket.

A long, ornate kiseru dangles between his spindly fingers; it’s a rare occasion whenever Obanai smokes, so much to the point that the ones closest to him don’t even know he possesses such a fine pipe. He takes a slow drag as his he stares up at the moonlit clouds, the chilled breeze whipping the choppy strands of his hair against his bared cheeks. He wonders, truly, just how the hell he’s supposed to get to the bottom of this case if he can’t find anything to work with.

Perhaps the gods heard his woes - or he’s finally lost his mind - for an intoxicatingly sweet scent fills his senses.

Jasmine.

As far as Obanai knows, he hasn’t seen any jasmine plants when he came into town. This had to mean something - it had to. Opting his kiseru for his blade instead, he easily slips out the window, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Taking off into the night, he races through the town’s streets, eyes darting back and forth for anything out of the usual.

He comes to an abrupt stop when the scent of jasmine grows even stronger. He’s sure now that whatever he’s been looking for is here. A slight shuffling catches his attention; whipping his head to the side, a wooden hatch to a window bangs against the side of a house, but there’s no one to be seen on the other side. 

“Found you,” Obanai breathes.

Rushing over to the house, he drops into a crouch as he creeps closer to the window. Jasmine floods his senses, the irresistible aroma gripping onto his consciousness and practically demanding for him to come closer. Swallowing thickly, he ignores the sudden wave of heat flushing over his body as he peeks into the darkened room. A family of five lays on the floor, their bodies moving gently with the deepened breathing of a heavy slumber. Even now, Obanai has to resist the urge to shut his eyes and succumb to the flowery scent.

Although the room is dark, he can make out a strange pillar of smoke; ah, so that’s where the origin of the smell is coming from. Is it some type of mist demon? Flower? He isn’t entirely sure, but he doesn’t have the time to care. He needs to get rid of it now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes his blade, not wanting to attract attention to him yet. It’s a wish in vain, though; as soon as his blade is hanging in the air, the pillar of smoke rushes towards him, slamming into him and sending him flying. Obanai grunts as his back hits the ground, the sharp edge of rocks biting into the skin.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to sneak up on others?” a low, creamy voice drawls. Goosebumps break out across the surface of Obanai’s skin and a shiver races down his back. The smoke dissipates, then, revealing a feminine figure.

Obanai’s breath catches in his throat. This demon - you - are unlike any other he’s encountered. Immediately, his eyes latch onto the pair of horns protruding from your skull, pearly at the tip and then fading into ebony. You’re strikingly beautiful, facial features soft yet demanding. Embarrassment warms Obanai’s face as his eyes drift across the curves of your body; your breasts swell over the tight, strappy top while the entirety of your legs and hips frame the long loincloth-like garment between your legs. Both your arms and legs have the same pearly sheen towards the end, just like your horns.

By the gods, you’re ethereal, even if the claws on your fingers could easily tear Obanai’s throat out.

“So is breaking into other’s homes,” Obanai manages to croak. Bringing himself to a stand, he takes a defensive stance, his blade held out before him. He feels strangely heavy, almost like his body craves to stay flat on his back.

Much to his surprise, you pout at him, arms crossing beneath your chest and pushing your breasts further up. “But it gets so lonely at night, you know?” you say, that seductive lilt in your voice deepening. At that, you make a show of sweeping your eyes over Obanai’s bare torso, and a slight smile grows on your pretty lips.

Obanai clears his throat. He can’t let himself fall for your tricks, no matter how incredible you smell or alluring you look. If these are the methods you rely on, chances are you’re a weaker demon.

“What did you do with the missing persons?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“Missing persons? Is that what they’re calling them?” you say, a giggle following your words.

Obanai growls at your nonchalant confession. If there’s one thing he can’t stand about demons, it’s their inability of basic human emotion, the inability of compassion. Yeah, he decides that your head is going to look even better once it’s separated from your body.

“You see, pretty boy,” you purr, pressing a hand to your throat and dragging it downwards, brushing over a luscious breast and tracing over your exposed tummy, “in return for making their dreams come true, I get to have a snack.”

“Enough,” Obanai grunts, switching to an offensive stance. “Maybe I’ll be gracious enough to meet you in hell someday.”

Before you even have a chance to react, Obanai springs into action, launching himself off the group in a great leap, lungs tightening as he releases a breath form.

It doesn’t hit.

It doesn’t fucking hit.

In fact, you’re nowhere in sight. Instead of the dusty, moonlit road, Obanai finds himself in an onsen; a great bamboo pavilion stands tall above the pool of water, blocking the golden rays of sunshine from hitting him. Thin trees are scattered about the area, riddled with stone lanterns and garden rocks covered in moss. With a chorus of birds singing overhead, it’s like he’s in an entire new world.

Muttering to himself, Obanai scans his surroundings, wracking his brain and trying to figure just what the hell happened. One moment, he’s about to slice your head clean off and put an end to your terror -  the next, he’s in broad daylight in some overt paradise.

“Your dreams are beautiful,” that wonderful, wonderful voice of yours speaks.

Whirling around, Obanai sends splashes of water flying. “What did you do to me?” he spits.

You flash him a sly smile. “Why, I merely put you to sleep, pretty boy. Can’t be much of a threat if you’re not wide awake, no?”

Obanai curses under his breath. Of course you’re a dream demon - no wonder why there hasn’t been any bodies turning up. If only he had acted faster, got here sooner, more lives could’ve been saved. With a huff, he slithers further away from you, sinking below the water until only his face can be seen. “So what now? You’re going to try to kill me in my sleep? That’s a low blow and you know it.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you shake your head. Now that the two of you are no longer shrouded by darkness, Obanai really gets a good look of how utterly stunning you are. Again, he curses himself out, calling himself a fool for thinking such things when he should be killing you instead.

“Your blade isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him, a look of mischief crossing your features. “Silly boy - this a time meant for the two of us, not for you to end my forsaken life. Allow me to help you... relax.”

As you step to the edge of the onsen, Obanai finally notices the feeling of water caressing his thighs, his bare buttocks. You just had to make him naked in his dream, huh? What are you trying to accomplish, anyway? His eyes widen incredulously as your hands find their place on your torso, slinking over the swell of your breasts and around your neck; with a simple tug, your top comes loose. You merely let the garment fall to the rocks below, a small ‘oops’ slipping from our mouth.

Heat immediately floods to Obanai’s face and his groin; his insides squeeze in on themselves and he swallows thickly, thankful for the hidden protection the water provides. The look on your face is simply irresistible. Hell, even your breasts are as pretty as he imagined-

Shit, he inwardly curses, I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

But oh, you’re just so tempting, your hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling your hardening nipples as you stare directly at his flushed face. “Pretty boy,” you purr, “what’s your name?”

“Obanai.”

It’s out before he even knows it. 

“Obanai...” 

He really likes the way it rolls off your tongue, the dark glint in your eyes as you say it. Perhaps you can tell by his reaction alone - or maybe you like saying it - but you repeat his name, once, twice, thrice, and fuck does it drive Obanai insane. And then you’re reaching down, unfastening your lower garment and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Obanai’s cock twitches at the sight of your glorious body, the soft curves and glowing skin.

“Naughty boy, my eyes are up here,” you say. Again, you squeeze those beautiful fucking tits, a soft groan spilling from your lips. Obanai nearly goes feral from the sound; without further thought, he wades over to where you are. Jasmine clings in his nostrils, clouds his mind in a delicious haze, and he loves it.

You’re all too willing to meet his touch, body slipping into the heated water as he wraps his arms around you possessively. His body kicks into autopilot, mind going blank as he presses his lips to your throat. He should rip your throat out with his teeth, but there’s something magical about the way you arch into his touch, breasts pushing lewdly against his chest.

“Fucking-”

“Yes.”

A breathy moan spills from your lips as Obanai kneads your pretty tits, long fingers gripping possessively, wantingly. It’s almost ridiculous how hard he already is, his cock sandwiched between your bodies. He jolts as your hands land on his face, thumbs brushing against the ragged scars lining either sides of his mouth. 

“Don’t,” he grits, but it goes ignored. The air is sucked from his lungs as you brush your lips over his scars, murmuring something about how pretty he is before stopping at his mouth. You kiss him fervently, clawed fingers scratching his shoulders as you tongue the inside of his mouth. You swallow the husky groan that spills from his mouth, hand dropping down from his shoulder and wrapping around his hardening cock. 

“Ah, shit,” Obanai murmurs into your mouth. 

“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whisper, hand slowly jerking on his cock. His breathing picks up as you quicken your pace, the water rippling with the movements of your wrists. “Your wish is my command.”

“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease,” he pants, eyes practically glowing against the pink hue of his face. Ducking his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the wet warmth enveloping your breast and eliciting a delicious moan from you. Obanai wastes no more time, opting to prop you in his lap and pressing your back against a smooth stone. “I shouldn’t... but fuck...”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re angry with me anymore,” you husk in that damned sexy voice. A moan bubbles from your throat as Obanai starts rocking against you, cock slipping against your folds. It’ll only take a little push for him to fill that pretty cunt of yours, to stuff you full of his cock and fuck you raw. It’s what he wants.

“Shut up,” he grunts, mouth latching onto your nipple, his hand beginning to play with the other. A low, drawn out curse gets muffled by your chest as he finally slips his cock into you; it shouldn’t be physically possible, but your velvety walls seemingly clench around him and suck him in, your arousal making the slide impossibly easy. He hiccups on a breath, his entire body twitching as he pants. 

“The thing about succubi,” you drawl, sharp nails tracing down his spine, over the muscles in his back, “is that we’re the demons of sex and dreams. Oh, pretty baby, how much I’ve lucked out. Everyone else seemed like an appetizer - and you...” You pause, suck air between your teeth. “You’re like the damn main course.”

A helpless little grunt graces your ear as you fuck yourself on Obanai’s cock. His hips match your movements, your sopping cunt eagerly sucking him back in and squeezing around him. You’re so damn wet that it’s infuriating; Obanai wants more, more of your touch, your voice, that sweet scent clogging his senses. He can’t bring himself to stop touching your breasts, whether if it’s his hands or mouth. They bounce with the erratic rhythm of your hips, way too beautiful and hypnotizing. 

A breathless whine breaks through your cute little pants whenever Obanai smacks a hand against the ample flesh of your ass. “Is that you meant when you said you make others’ wishes come true? Have them fuck that tight pussy of yours? Huh?”

“Obanai, don’t be mean,” you pout. 

“Says a fucking demon that eats people.”

You hiss as his cockhead hits against your g-spot. “I can eat you too, so don’t get cocky, pretty boy.”

Obanai clicks his tongue, his brows furrowing. “You better keep that promise,” he grunts, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He growls as your walls clench around him. 

“If that’s your wish, Master,” you purr, a slight chuckle following your words, “then it is my command.”

[13uswntimagines]

Love You or Lose You (Alpha Soran x Omega Reader)

Request: This is the first part to the Prequel for Playing with Fire. Its right after the 2016 Olympics, and R missed the PK instead of Christen. Things have been rough with her Alphas and she just needs a fresh Start. Barca might be the start she was after, but her mates might not like that too much... Especially when she leaves in the middle of the night. 

Basically 4000 words of Lindsey and Emily being idiots, R being sad and Preath and Kellex being worried. 

The air was heavy in the locker room, pressing into you like an anvil settled on your soul. You could remember a time when you had felt at home here. Like you belonged here.  

A time when Lindsey and Emily had actually loved you, and you didn’t feel like an unneeded (or wanted) burden on the national team (more like your family). 

You shook your head, tucking your frame tighter into the small locker that belonged to your most dominant alpha, pulling a leftover sweater tighter against your face. 

No. The locker that belonged to Lindsey. She wasn’t your alpha anymore, she had said so herself, but your inner omega still cried out for her and Emily nonetheless. A fight didn’t change the marks on your neck, or what your inner animal knew to be true. 

Yet it changed everything if the unbearable pain ripping through your chest was anything to go by. 

Another sob left your lips, muffled only slightly by the heavy material of Lindsey’s sweatshirt that smelled distinctly like both her and Emily. It did little to ease your instincts, but you would take whatever you could get right now. 

There was no reason to hold back your tears, there was no one else there to see them anyway. No one who would come looking for the source of the distressed pheromones you were emitting. No one to care that you were falling apart. It didn’t matter that you were all in the same city. 

They were all too busy trying to process their own issues from the loss. The loss you knew fell squarely on your shoulder. If only you had made that PK, none of this would have happened. 

You shuttered at the mix of emotions trickling down your mating bond. Lindsey’s anger and Emily’s clear frustration. You gulped pushing against their emotions with an overwhelming wave of your own. You willed as much calm as you could muster down the bond-forming a little barrier between your omega and their alphas, and shoved your own despair as far away from it as you could. 

The block wouldn’t hold forever, but it would do the job for now. Bonds were a bitch to shut down completely, and a permanent block was going to have to be something you figured out later. 

Your inner omega growled, digging her claws into your brain. While the human side of your head got why you were doing this, your animal side was loath to deny your alphas the privilege of your deepest emotions. Especially when she thought they could fix it if they knew. 

You let out a little whimper at the sound of the door, tucking yourself tighter into a ball as footsteps approached.

“Hey, Kid just thought I’d let you know your Uber is here,” 

You peeked out at the kind voice, semi soothing scent, and worried eyes of the athletic. You tried to smile at the woman, but you knew she wasn’t fooled. She knew you too well for that. 

“Thanks Bailey,” You sniffled, easing into a sitting position and turning to fully face the woman, and running a hand through your wild hair (only making it messier than it was before). 

“I’m gonna miss you kid,” She said, and you could tell that she wanted to say more. But both of you knew it wouldn’t change anything. The deal was done and you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret it. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, but you know I can’t stay,” 

She nodded, she would have left too if she was in your shoes. Barça was making lemonade out of rotten lemons. 

You took another gulping breath into Lindsey’s sweatshirt before shoving it into your backpack, and standing. Your eyes strayed towards the other lockers around you, landing on several items of clothing left by your friends. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” She grumbled under her breath as she headed towards the door. 

“No, it doesn’t,” You breathed out, heading towards the various lockers instead of the door. 

Leaving here would be like leaving a part of your soul behind. Your fingers traced over the wooden panels that outlined each locker. You only paused twice. Once outside Emily’s locker to steal a coveted Virginia soccer t-shirt and again at Tobin’s taking a re-inc sweater that you knew Christen wore more than Tobin and a LFG t-shirt that smelled distinctly like Kellex. 

The quad (as the national team called them) were your team moms, and their scents all comforted you. They would make whatever apartment you ended up in in Barça feel like home. 

Bailey raised her eyebrow at you as you stuffed the items into your backpack. You just shrugged. “they won’t miss them anyway,” 

It was true, and even if it wasn’t you were sure Chris would still back you up when she found out exactly why you left. 

You paused at the door, taking one last glance around the room, looking for some sign to stay. You rubbed your chest when another wave of negative emotions from your mates passed through your bond. 

You cleared your throat and shook your head at Bailey’s raised eyebrows. The weight in your chest told you that you were making exactly the right move. 

She sighed, leading you towards the loading bay where your Uber was waiting. 

“Thank you… for everything,” You said softly, pulling the older omega into a tight hug. She knew you meant more than walking you to the car park. She was there for you when no one else was, and you would be eternally grateful for all she had done for you. 

She held you for a long moment, rocking you side to side before pulling back to hold you at arm's length. “You got it, kid. Be safe and text me when you land alright?” 

You gave her a nod and a tight smile. “Look after them?” 

She rolled her eyes. If those two idiots had done anything even close to what they had done to you to her, she wouldn’t have been nearly as forgiving as you seemed to be. 

Then again you were also moving to Spain. 

“Of course,” She said, shoeing you towards the car. 

She would make sure they were very informed on how you were doing. 

****

Christen knew that there was something wrong. Very wrong. Before her phone even dinged. She could feel it in her bond with you. The torrent of emotions that had suddenly shifted into a calm she had never felt from you before. 

The bond the two of you shared was a special one, forged the moment she had laid eyes on you (even more special than the one you shared with her mates). The second your small, skittish form had entered the dining hall (tucked carefully under Emily's arm) her omega had claimed you as its pup, and you latched onto her quiet calm nature without a second thought. 

She knew you almost as well as your mates knew you, and the bond you shared (while different) was nearly as strong. And therefore your bond with the rest of the quad was also relatively strong. 

For an unknown reason, it was keeping her awake. It was like her omega was waiting for a sign, something to tell her that you were safe and sound. 

She practically jumped out of her skin at the ding of her phone, fumbling to unlock the screen and find the message you had sent her. 

She froze when her alpha shifted against her, inadvertently jostling the two omega’s attached to her other side. 

“Wha- appened?” Tobin mumbled, nuzzling into her stomach. Christen sighed at the wave of soothing scents that Tobin let off, trying to calm her nerves even in sleep. 

“Shh, baby bear is texting me. Go back to sleep,” Christen said, scratching the alphas scalp gently with one hand and pulling up the text with the other. 

She blinked at the bright screen once, twice, three times. 

It was five words, cold and emotionless. It reminded her of the call marines made to their parents when they went to boot camp. 

Landed in Spain. I’m fine. 

She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath at the singular line, or the anxiety that suddenly engulfed her heart (immediately jolting all 3 of her mates awake). 

Before she could even blink she was moved onto Tobin’s lap, and Alex and Kelley cuddled tightly into either side of her. She could feel their concern flowing down their bond, and their efforts to comfort even though they had no idea what had caused such a strong response. 

“What’s up with baby bear?” Tobin said, gently rocking from side to side. 

Christen’s mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to parse out what emotions were hers, what emotions were coming from her mating bond, and the irritating calm that was coming from her bond with you. 

“I…-I don’t,” She stuttered, unable to skate the feeling that there was something very bad behind the steadfast wall you had thrown up in your bond. 

“Give me that,” Kelley half growled, pulling the phone out from Christen’s loose grip. 

She didn’t like to be woken up in the middle of the night, and she would kill your mates if you were texting Christen because of something stupid they did. You had sent them way too many texts like that already if she was honest.

“What the fuck?” She breathed out when her eyes landed on the words. This was so much worse than Soran being dumbasses. 

“What?” Alex asked, yanking the phone away from Kelley. 

Be nice,” Tobin chastised lightly, leaning over to read the words that had sent her most dominant omega mate into a tailspin. 

She frowned at the bright screen, trying to remember the last time the two of you had really talked. Had you mentioned moving to Spain in passing? Had she just blown it off? 

A charged silence hung between them. They all knew you were taking the loss hard, and that you and your mates were struggling to work your way through the slew of emotions that came with it. But they never imagined it would come to this. That you would literally flee the country. 

“This is a joke right?” Kelley asked, her voice cracking. 

“It’s gotta be,” Alex mumbled in disbelief. You were her cuddle buddy, her baby bear. You couldn’t have left the country without saying goodbye first. 

“I’m going to find out,” Christen said finally, taking back her phone. 

She bit her lip, pressing your contact picture and holding the phone to her ear. It rang once and then went voicemail. She frowned, shaking her head at her mates, ending the call. Maybe you accidentally pressed the wrong button. 

She pressed your contact photo a second time. 

Again it rang once and went to voicemail. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence this time, and she would bet anything that the boring automated greeting that came on instead of your goofy one wasn’t a coincidence either. 

She sighed, waiting for the beep. “Hey kiddo, um I got your text and I thought we could have a check-in maybe? Call me back when you can,” She paused, unsure of how to finish. She didn’t think anything she said would ease the ache in her chest. “we love you,” 

“Call Lindsey,” Tobin said firmly, an order lurking just below the words. If you weren’t going to give them answers, then your alphas better be ready to explain what the fuck was going on. 

*****

Lindsey didn’t quite know what she expected when she picked up the phone, but it wasn’t a very annoyed Christen Press on the other side. 

Well, maybe she expected it a little bit (she knew you would go to the quad after the argument. You always went to the quad), but she never imagined the words that would come out of your team mom’s mouth. 

“Whoa, slow down. She said she’s where?” Lindsey said, sitting up off of Emily’s shoulder where she had been leaning. 

“Spain, she said she landed in Spain,” Emily could barely make out Christen’s worried voice through the phone over Lindsey’s low growl. 

“There’s no way!” The more dominant alpha barked, baring her teeth just slightly. 

Maybe she had said some things she shouldn’t have, but you wouldn’t just run off to another country without telling them. She pushed down her hurt and settled for frustration instead. 

Emily scooched away from Lindsey slightly, rubbing her ear. “Babe, if you’re going to be this loud at 3 am, at least turn on speakerphone.” She felt odd, her bond unusually unbalanced. She could feel the torrent of emotions running through Lindsey, but your side of the bond was silent. It had never been silent before. 

The two of you had known each other since you were in diapers, and your bond reflected that. She should have felt something. While you weren’t always outwardly expressive, you felt everything deeply, and vividly. You were the fire to Lindsey’s flood, and for your usual smoldering flame of emotions to just be snuffed out felt wrong.  

The two alphas shared a look before Lindsey gave in and gave a short nod, pressing the little button. Emily had just as much a right to know what was happening as she did, but she still didn’t like being ordered around. 

“You’re on speaker Chris,” Lindsey grumbled. She wrapped an arm around Emily and pulled her closer.

 “What did you two idiots do to our baby bear?” Christen’s voice came out in a growl, the sound low and dangerous. 

Lindsey stiffened, her alpha bristling more than it normally would at the tone. “We didn’t do anything.” 

Emily nuzzled into her neck, trying to help her settle the mix of anger, pain and shock flowing through their bond. Just because she couldn’t feel you, didn’t mean that you couldn’t feel them. 

You were not some innocent party here. Lindsey hadn’t meant all the things she said, but then you had said some pretty hurtful things too. 

Tobin’s voice through the phone was low and clear, holding an air of dominance she rarely let out. “Watch who you’re growling at.” 

Lindsey gulped. She was never very good at controlling her emotions, especially when things went wrong. It was easier to respond with anger than to admit she was vulnerable sometimes. But she really didn’t want to have a fight with Tobin, not when they both knew she would lose.  

“And don’t give us that bullshit!” Both alphas winced at Kelley’s tone. The Omega had the parental tone of disapproval down to an art. She could have been one of their parents, scolding their irresponsibility for mating you before any of you were older than 21 (Emily’s mom had been angry enough to make up for your parents’ lack of care). Emily was sure her mother had used the exact same tone. 

“We had a fight,” Emily sighed, leaning deeper into Lindsey. It was more than a fight. It was an explosion of stubborn communication that had ended in you walking out. 

“A stupid fight. We’ll call her and have it all patched up by tomorrow,” Lindsey added, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why were omegas so frustrating? 

“She left the fucking country. I don’t think getting her back is going to be so easy,” Alex said, and both women could practically hear her eye roll. 

All six of them knew how stubborn you were, and getting you to listen was going to be far from a cakewalk. 

Lindsey huffed. “Camp is in like 2 days. If worst comes to worst, we’ll just talk to her there.” If you wouldn’t answer their phone calls, then they would just corner you at camp. You weren’t good at maintaining the silent treatment when they were both in front of you. And Lindsey still wasn’t convinced this wasn't more than an overblown tantrum. 

“She put a block in our bond Linds,” Christen said sternly, trying to break through the more dominant alphas shell. 

Sure the three of you had had arguments before, but whatever this was, it was fundamentally different. 

Lindsey frowned. You would never do that to Christen. The two of you were too close for that. At least that’s what she thought. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of it. We promise,” Emily said softly, already pulling out her phone. Now hopefully she would be able to get you to answer on the other side. 

“Good luck, you’re going to need it,” Tobin grumbled, hanging up. 

If those two idiots didn’t fix it, she was going to let Kelley unleash her wrath on them. 

Emily bit her lip as she pressed your contact picture (a photo of the two of you with bright 4-year-old smiles covered in brownie batter). It rang 4 times before going to voicemail. 

Emily could imagine you staring at the screen, debating on whether or not you should answer. It hurt a little that you had declined instead. 

She swallowed down her tears, glancing sideways at her still frozen mate. 

“Hey babe, um I know we’re not really talking right now, but um. Christen called and we’re worried. Please call me or Linds back,” she worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should add more, but the time ran out before she could. 

“Damn it,” she huffed, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. She hadn’t told you she loved you. 

Lindsey smiled sadly at her, rubbing her back soothingly, and pulling out her own phone. 

Her thumb hovered over a photo of the two of you cuddled up in one of your famous nests. She smiled wistfully down at it. How had this gotten out of hand so quickly? 

She pressed the button, holding the phone up to her ear. It didn’t even ring before it went to the robotic voicemail. What happened to the one that had you giggling because they wouldn’t stop kissing your neck? 

She didn’t have time to think it through before the beep sounded. She cleared her throat. 

“Hey, um I heard you were in Spain. What’s that about? Call me back,” she too tossed her phone down. 

“I can’t feel her,” Emily mumbled after a few minutes. Lindsey sighed. 

She closed her eyes tightly with a sigh and began to feel for your presence in the bond. If you weren’t going to answer them, then she was going to make sure you knew how unhappy with this situation she was. 

Her eyebrows furrowed when she was met with a wall of unsteady calm. It was like it was pulsing like your inner omega was pacing behind it trying to get through. She focused on the wall you had created and gave it a little push. 

She smirked when it bent a little bit to her will. “I think I got it,” 

She pushed back harder, the wall you creating molding around her alpha as she tried to reach your omega. She was almost there, she could almost touch your omega. One last push was all she needed. 

But just as she went to give it, a blast of calm shoved her backward. 

Her eyes blinked open at the ping of her phone and she scrambled to pick up the device. 

It was two words. No caps, no punctuation. A simple “fuck off” that they could practically hear reverberating in their heads. 

“What do we do now?” Emily asked softly. 

Lindsy’s smirk widened. 

“We call her until she answers us again.” 

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here!

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!

A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.

“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”

You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”

The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.

Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.

Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.

“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”

There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.

“Hello, darling.”

You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”

“Please, Dark!”

He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”

Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.

“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”

You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.

“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”

As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.

He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.

“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.

Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.

“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”

There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.

“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.

Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.

“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”

It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.

“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”

Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.

Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”

Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”

Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.

“I need to know.”

You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”

“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”

Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.

“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”

A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.

“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.

His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.

“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”

Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.

Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.

“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.

You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.

As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.

“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.

Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.

Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”

Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.

“What-”

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.

“Good girl.”

Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.

As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.

“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.

“Take a breath,” he warned.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”

As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.

“Impressive, now get up here.”

Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.

He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.

“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”

Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”

Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.

“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”

You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”

Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.

“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.

His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.

“And who do you want to use you?”

Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.

“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”

Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”

It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.

When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.

As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.

But… his hands were on your hips…

“How-?”

When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”

Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Glad to see you approve, darling.”

In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.

When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.

He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.

There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”

A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.

Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.

“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”

Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.

“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.

As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him

“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”

Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.

“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”

“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”

With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.

Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”

Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.

“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”

With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.

It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.

“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”

“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.

“But I asked-”

Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!

He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.

“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”

[meenah-chan]

A Smear of Blood

A Mammon x F! MC fanfiction

Genre: Angst

1.38k words

Trigger Warning: Lots of blood, mention of death & violence. Read at your own discretion.

You two were just sleeping together in your room. It's the same old night. Yet for some reason, when he woke up that day, the one beside him is not you, but a smear of blood.

Everytime he wokes up he will usually see you still asleep in his arms. Or sometimes you staring at his sleeping face, which never fails to send his visage into flaring.

But that morning is different. The space beside him is empty.

He shouldn't be thinking of it as you may only be doing your business in the bathroom.

But no...

That morning is different. When he lifted the blanket covering him and the space beside him, an ample amount of blood, as large as his two stretched palms, spreads across the sheet.

His mind went blank for a second. He froze, sitting on his spot as if time went on a total halt. His own blood drains from his face. And in an instant, everything came back, rushing through his veins. Thousands of thoughts he never wished to have invaded his senses.

Did something happened last night? Did someone attacked her? Is it a grudge towards his human? No, there's no way that's possible. She's way too kind for anyone to held any ill intent towards herself. Is it because she is a rare, appetizing human? Or maybe the monster want to settle past misdeed he committed and chose to attack the most important person in his life?

No, he should have felt any danger if that's the case... Or... Could he?

Mammon is one of the strongest in the Devildom. He also have been alive for who knows how long. He barely experienced some lesser demons attack him in his sleep, much less in the House of Lamentation.

No. No one aimed for his head in his own abode. Entering the den of the most monstrous beasts in the Devildom is a suicide for any assassins to test their luck.

It doesn't make sense! It doesn't...

Yet... That blood... That metallic scent invading his sense smell right now... He'd be dumb if he could ever forget such scent. He knew it so well. Why does he knew it so well? Of course he...

The image of that day flashed through his mind and he never knew his heart would sink deeper than it already has. The image of her lifeless body in his arms, soaked with her own blood and bruises. Limp. Breathless. Cold. Too cold. With her lifelessly gentle eyes staring at his useless self, who couldn't do anything to protect her. It's too late. His tears and screams won't bring what she have lost.

His loss. He lost her once already and swears he'll protect her this time around. He'll protect her with his life. He'll... Protect her?

A lightning strucks his system as he force his stiff limbs to motion. He wants to scream but a lump in his throat blocks all the sound he want to gouge out.

He flails out of the bed. He reach for the knob only for it to move a few feet away from him and his hand.

When he raised his unfocused eyes to the person who opened the door, he gasps for air he didn't knew he's been holding.

"Ahh. You're... Awake." His human peeked inside the room for a second. "And you saw that..." She sighed.

But the demon stood there motionless. He scans her with his eyes for any visible wound and blood stains. Any trace of blood on her. Yet he saw nothing but her sweaty self gasping for air, holding what seems to be a comforter.

"...mon... Mammon? You don't look so good." A touch of her warm fingertips is enough to push his last button to tears, which he did. "M–Mammon?! W–Wha, H–Hey!" Tears streams down like falls on his cheeks to the back of her hands as she held his face.

"What... the hell..." They both melted to their knees as Mammon start sobbing. "Hey, Mammo—" her palms slid past his slippery wet cheeks as he pulls her to tight embrace.

"'Ya idiot... human... Ye're killin' me." He whimpered in a muffled voice, face buried on the crook of her neck.

His words snapped all the dots connected in her head of what is actually happening. It probably is because of that incident. The day she died... or atleast her other self. It was a sight, to see herself bathing in a pool of blood, as if it was a different person. It was a sight, really. But it was not the one that sparked her emotion. It was the demon that held her so tight as if she'll slipped away from his grasp. It was Mammon.

She couldn't really comprehend what happened when she was attacked by the youngest brother. She was stranggled, passed out and woke up under the staircase.

It never left a mark on her. She held no ill will towards him. But as the demon with the strongest bond with her, Mammon, was so devastated that time. He cling onto her. He wail with his futile pleads for her to hang on. To not die.

Seeing him like that made her regret the event she have no way of ever predicting. The event she have no control of.

The only thing she could do is to protect him from the ghost of the past. She have to give reassurance to the second oldest— her first demon.

So she hugged him back as firm as he did, caressing his hair lovingly. "There, there... I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

He squeeze her tighter she could hardly breathe. But even if it's hard, she let him because right now, she could finally feel the grip her other self felt that time. She's be lying if she said she didn't felt a hint of jealousy oozing out within her that time. "Don't you dare leave me like that ever again."

"I won't. I'll be with you as long as it takes. This won't happen again."

She gave him featherlight kisses that soothes his pain. A gentle yet firm embrace to gave him assurance and warmth. And within a few moments, Mammon pulled himself back, his eyes and cheeks dusted with shades of red.

"But wait... Are you really not hurt or something?" The white-haired demon close his eyes as she wipes his tears with her thumb.

"You wanna check with your own eyes?" She smirks and wiggle her brows at him, earning a darker flush on his tan face.

"Then what the hell's with the sheet? That isn't your blood, right?" Now it's her turn to blush.

"Uh... Can we just forget that..." Azure orbs glare through her soul. "... or maybe not." She nervously laugh while evading the piercing looks towards her.

"Ugh... This is embarrassing. How should I put this..." She scratch her nape as she search for the right words. "Well, it is mine." Mammon's eyes widen and without hesitation, he lift her shirt and frantically check her torso.

"H–Hey! Sto– Wait! I'm not hurt! That time of the month just came a bit too early is all!" She hastily pulled the hem of her shirt off his grip and down.

"W–What time?" He stares at her, confusion and worry evident on his expression.

"I'm on my period, okay. I woke up with it staining the covers. I panicked and run out after changing to search for a replacement. And yeah, I was late." She pat the sheet on her side. "You saw it before I arrive." She look down to hide her flustered face.

"... Seriously..." Mammon's forehead drops to her shoulder.

After a few seconds, he cups her face and face her to him. "Why'd'ya have ta hide it? And from the Great Mammon? Really?"

"Well, it's embarrassing you know..." She pouts.

"Like hell it's embarrassing. It's normal. It's a part of being a woman. If somethin' like this happen, don't hesitate to ask for the Great Mammon's help... Well it's not like I'm worried or anything. I just wanna help ya. Ye're my human after all." He squishes her face as he grin from ear to ear tinted with pink.

"Yes, my tsundere demon." She also smiled like he did as she held the hands on her cheeks.

"Huh?! Who're ya callin–" he protested, only to be silenced with a peck on the tip of his nose.

"I love you, my Great Mammon."

I was too hyped yesterday I just finished 2 fanfics. That OM! anime announcement left me on edge.

And to anyone waiting for my series Quintessence, I'm on it hahaha 😅😂 I'm torn between two twist and still can't decide but I'll surely post it as soon as I finished it. Please bear with me for the last 2 chapters.

P. S. To anyone who watch BL Romance and haven't seen Given yet, I highly recommend it! A real tear-jerker with amazing plot and masterpiece songs 😭💖💖 I won't go with details but there's something really unique with it and you wont regret watching it sksksk 😚😚

Masterlist

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 15: Paper Castle

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

VOTING IS CLOSED!!

Happy Saturday, everyone! I hope you enjoy! There's a choice at the end of this (not the big choice) so vote if you want! If you don't, I'll just choose. No big deal. Thought it could be fun lol! SO, no extra update tomorrow since I will have to likely be writing. I'll try to have a double update soon! Much love. <3 I will try to update Mon/Wedn/Fri this week unless otherwise stated! New fic coming soon too.

Part 14 Part 16 Chapter Index

“Y/N?” Liu’s voice woke you and you shifted and whined. You didn’t want to get up. You were tired and comfortable for what felt like the first time in forever. “Y/N, you’re lying on my arm.” You opened one eye and found Liu laying on his side next to you. You rolled your head the opposite way and caught sight of his hand on the other side of you. “It’s dead.” He laughed in a sleepy, husky voice. Carefully, you shifted just enough to allow him to pull his arm free from beneath you. Then he rolled onto his stomach, staying close. He shook out his hand to try and regain feeling.

“Sorry about that.” You cleared your throat, your own voice still small and sleepy. He smiled, as if admiring that.

“No worries.” He yawned. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead.” You stretched your arms above your head and adjusted onto your back, folding your hands on your stomach. Liu’s shoulder was now bruised, as predicted, and looked sore. The scrape at the center of the bruise was now scabbed over. That was right. For a blissful moment you’d forgotten what had happened. You touched around the bruise, careful of how much pressure you put on him. Furrowing your brow, you allowed your hand to touch close to the scab and then further down his arm, tracing the lines where the bruise continued. You knew he didn’t want you to apologize, but you felt guilty so there was nothing for it. “Liu, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Y/N. It doesn’t hurt. Just a bit stiff.” He watched your hand regardless. “Are you okay? You’re still pale.”

“I’m okay. The normal amount of sore that I’m pretty used to.” You yawned, covering your mouth as you did. Liu urged his hand to your cheek, a now familiar and comforting thing but he urged you to look toward him. Then he brushed his fingers up to your forehead and gave you a disapproving look. “Put that accusatory look away. I probably have a fever. It was way worse when I was a kid. This is manageable in comparison. I didn’t notice. I can deal with it, Liu.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better, but I trust you.” He pulled his hand back. You smiled, proud. “We should get up. Eat. Then speak with Raiden.”

“…or, hear me out, we could just sleep more instead.”

He laughed and then stopped when he realized you were serious. “We’ve slept long enough. The sooner that we talk to Raiden, the sooner you can properly rest without worry.”

You lifted your head and peeked around him. The sky was still dark! There was the tiniest hint of color beyond the tops of the cliffs, just barely kissing the mountainside. “The sun isn’t up yet.”

“It will be at any minute. If we get up now, then we can watch the sunrise together before we grab some food.” He tempted and you considered his offer. It did sound nice to watch the sunrise together, if not a little romantic. “Come on, Y/N. I’m worried about you. The sooner we get you to Raiden, the better.” That was less romantic. You were tired of worrying him.

“I know, I know.” You sighed but relented. “I’m exhausted, is all.”

“That’s exactly what’s worrying me,” he whispered, leaning closer to you. He let his index and middle fingers brush carefully over your cheek. “I know that you don’t want me to worry about you but let me assure you, that you are worth worrying over.” You had to have been pale for him to worry so much. You took his hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze then let it go. He pushed your hair back from your face, taming a few renegade strands before resting his hand on the side of your neck, his arm draping over your shoulder to do so. Fingers gently traced beneath your ear, down your neck, across your shoulder before he grasped it and urged you to turn just toward him. The sheets shifted beneath you as he scooted closer. Your eyes followed his strong arm up to find that he was close enough to you now that if you spoke even a single word, your lips would brush just against his.

His eyes were half-lidded, and his lips were parted just slightly. Your face was red and hot, and you dared not breathe for fear that something would come along and ruin this tender moment. His grip on your shoulder tightened and his lips brushed slowly against yours; a ghost of something that you had longed for and had felt somehow forbidden. You closed your eyes and his lips pressed against yours, igniting sparks in your chest. You lifted your head just enough to meet him into that deeper kiss but as you parted your lips, there was a knock on the door.

Liu pulled back just enough at the sound, but his lips were still close to yours, close enough for you to ignore the sunrise in favor of kisses. Your hand had tangled into his hair without you realizing and there you sat, frozen and listening.

“Don’t answer it,” Liu whispered and the brush of his lips with each word practically drove you mad. You swallowed the lump in your throat but finally managed to breathe. If they went away, you would ignore it. If they knocked again, you would get up. It wasn’t like there was a lock on your door or anything.

There was another knock on the door and you sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow. Liu pulled back and rested his head on the pillow next to yours, pushing his hair back in clear frustration. It was nice to see that you weren’t the only one suffering.

Face still hot, practically burning, you fanned it before sitting up and draping your legs off the bed. You’d had to pull a good bit of yourself out from partially beneath Liu Kang. The cold floor felt good against your bare feet and you hung your head. It was pounding now that you weren’t resting it against something.

“If you don’t answer the door in thirty seconds then I’m coming in!” Chen’s voice yelled from the other side.

“Son of a…” You cursed beneath your breath and you could feel Liu’s eyes watching you as you hurried to the door. Without another word, you opened it and stepped into the hall before closing it very quickly behind you to keep Chen from looking inside.

Chen had her hands on her hips, her messy hair pulled back into a bun with a look of concern plastered on her round face. “Finally! You had me all worried.”

“I was sleeping, Chen.”

“I had the worst feeling last night that I couldn’t shake. I figured I’d check in on you before I headed downstairs. When you didn’t answer… I’ll admit I freaked myself out a little bit. Kung Lao is so reckless sometimes, who knew what trouble he would get you into!”

“I was just sleeping. It’s so early, Chen.” You protected the door behind you as though your life depended on it. Chen was not going to see inside your room, not if you could help it. “I didn’t hear you knock at first.” You lied and it sounded like a lie even. Thankfully, Chen didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re really pale today.” Chen urged you to tilt your head to the side and checked your pulse.

“I’m fine, stop it!” You swatted her hand away. “I had a vision last night but I’m okay. My pulse is just fine.”

“It was actually racing.”

“Because your knock scared me away.” You were a lying liar.

“Come sit down. I’ll make sure that you’re up to snuff then we can grab a bite to eat together.”

“I need a few minutes to get cleaned up. Not dressed for other humans right now.” You pointed to the door behind you as Chen tried to lead you across the hall to the bench against the wall. Then the door opened behind you and you yelped and nearly lost your balance. Liu Kang helped keep you from falling.

“Is everything okay?” He asked and then looked to Chen. Chen’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were about to burst at the seams with confetti. You tightened your lips, pretty sure that anything you said would not help you.

“Oh, yes, Liu Kang. I was just checking in on Y/N. Had a bad feeling and wanted to make sure it was just that.” Chen smiled brightly, but you could feel how delighted she was.

“That’s kind of you. While you do that, I’m going to grab a few things.” Liu spoke the last part quietly and just for you. “I’ll meet you back here when I’m ready.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” It took all of your energy to find a response though you thought it sounded quite strangled.

Liu Kang left you, and you watched him walk away, waiting for the inevitable that would come when he was out of sight. This was killing you. Sensory overload again. Liu Kang and then immediately Chen and you just wanted to flop on the floor and ask the universe why things happened with the timing in which they happened. When you finally turned back to Chen, Chen was staring at you expectantly, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“So, what the hell was that, Y/N?”

“I have to get changed.” You opened the door and tried to escape.

“No, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily. You can’t just avoid me. I’ll start yelling about stuff. Embarrassing stuff- you have no idea.”

“I’m not avoiding you and there’s nothing for me to get out of, Chen. I just need to get changed so I can be ready when he comes back.”

Chen followed you into the room and you sighed. “Like hell! Liu Kang just marched out of your room. Shirtless- I might add. And you are clearly still half asleep which can only mean one thing.”

“You continue to be the worst monk. Also, it can mean many things and it’s not the thing you’re thinking.”

“You’d be way less tense if it was the thing I’m thinking.” Chen sounded disappointed.

“He fell asleep here while we were studying last night.” You searched through the trunk at the foot of your bed for something to wear since you had sufficiently destroyed the tank top that you had so admired. Liu’s shirt and sash were still draped over the back of your desk chair, completely drenched in ink. The blood on the tear in the shirt made your stomach sink.

“I’m gathering evidence so I’m going to need you to be quiet, you liar.” Chen walked past you and gestured toward the bed that was a mess of tangled sheets. Her smile quickly faded when she spotted the ink staining the floor. Her joy was replaced by sadness. “Oh. You really did have a vision last night.”

You nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. You were exhausted and your head was still pounding. Chen sat next to you and offered you a gentle hug.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He stayed to comfort me even though I hurt him. I scared him, I think. I’m tired today but I’m okay. I’m strong enough to shoulder whatever this is.”

“It’s okay for you to be upset too, Y/N.”

“I know that. I’m mostly just exhausted.” You dug again in the chest, pulling out one of the hanfu that you hadn’t worn yet. “And tired of traditional Chinese clothing. How do you survive without jeans?” You joked nervously. Even so, you would wear the hanfu. It was light and fluttery, so much more delicate a thing than you were.

“It’s also okay to stop joking for a second when you’re uncomfortable. You can seek shelter, you know…”

“Oh, no, please stop.” You furrowed your brow, knowing what was coming next since the smile had returned to Chen’s face.

“To seek shelter in the arms of a big, strong man.”

“Could you not?”

“Come on. He could have kept that shirt on! It’s just stained with ink!”

“You aren’t helping.”

“He knew what he was doing, Y/N. Have a bit of fun.”

“I attacked him, Chen! Does that count as fun?”

“…depends on how he handled it and if you’re into that or not!”

You laughed, your face burning. You smacked Chen’s arm. While Chen was teasing you, her expression had changed. She’d wanted to make you laugh despite all the bad that had happened. You were grateful to have made friends in Raiden’s Temple. “He held me. That was nice. And it’s also all that you get.”

“One day I’m going to get you drunk and you’re going to give me details that you’re too embarrassed to give sober.”

“That is such a specific and weird threat.” You closed the trunk after setting the hanfu to the side.

“Come by the infirmary later and we’ll run some tests. See if maybe we can find a better way to manage the side effects of this thing.”

“I will, but I have to use this time to get changed. I really do need to be ready when Liu comes back. We’re going to see Raiden this morning. He wants to try and make sense of what I’ve seen.”

“Oh, fun.” Chen made a face as though that were exactly the opposite of fun. You understood that. Raiden was intimidating, but you’d seen him enough times to know that he was also well-meaning. “I’ll see you later then. Promise me?”

“I promise. Liu will be delighted that I’m willingly going to the infirmary.” You hugged Chen once more and watched your friend leave. You sat, hand applying pressure over your left eye to dull the pounding in your head for a time. Then you sucked it up, got up, and got changed. It felt immediately too delicate and pretty. You missed jeans. Desperately. But for now, it was better than nothing. No sooner had you finished getting cleaned up and changed when there was a knock on the door. You opened it to find Liu Kang had returned and was in his familiar white and black gi. He had cleaned up in the meantime. There was no sign of ink or the bruises.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded and then you walked together through the halls of the temple. You stopped to grab a quick bite to eat and then went back up the stairs to meet with Raiden. You felt much better now that you were up and about a bit more without being teased. The further you were from the visions the more normal you felt. At least you could count on that!

When you arrived in the familiar chamber with the not-tesla-coils, ypi found both Raiden and Kung Lao waiting for you. “Liu Kang tells me that you’ve had another vision.” Raiden approached with his hands clasped together behind his back. Kung Lao offered you a smile in greeting.

“I did. It was really jumbled up.”

“If you could tell me what you recall. It’s important to hear it in your voice before I use my magic.”

You did just that. The mountains, the clouds, the creature that had hidden something there and then the temple in Japan, how you had nearly drowned in the blood red pond. Raiden listened raptly, but you could feel the eyes of your friends on you, worried. You felt smaller and smaller by the second, much more like that little girl who had been terrified to tell anyone what you’d seen because you would be looked at like you were crazy. But none of them looked at you like you were losing your mind. They listened with interest and understanding- and worry.

After you finished, Raiden paced before them. Kung Lao stepped next to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You did good.” He whispered reassuringly. You nodded your thanks. Liu Kang stood before Raiden, prayer beads wrapped around his hand, his other hand behind his back. He was avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“Come and sit, Y/N.” Raiden sat on a bench in the center of the room just before one of those white-electrical statues you kept meaning to ask about. You stepped away from Kung Lao, past Liu Kang, and sat on the bench where Raiden joined you. “If it’s alright with you then I will use my magic to see exactly what it is that you have seen.”

“…is that safe?”

“There have been many seers in my temple throughout the ages, but I have never had more difficulty interpreting visions than I have yours. I admit that I do not know how safe this is or not.”

You frowned and felt again like you were disappointing him. “I wish that things were clearer. That I could relay them better.”

“It is of no fault of yours, Y/N, but rather the shadow that hangs over you. If we can interpret your visions, then perhaps we can get to the root of it and you can be of more use.”

You nodded. Be of more use. That was a harsh way to put it. You were sure he meant well. Being a God, you supposed tact was unnecessary. “What if I attack you?”

“That is why I have asked Kung Lao and Liu Kang to join us. If something happens beyond my control, then they will be here to aid me and protect you.”

“Okay.” You caught Liu’s eyes on you, like he wanted to comfort you but when you looked up to him, he turned away. Kung Lao, on the other hand, smiled brightly nearby.

“You’ve got this. And if you don’t… we’ve got this.”

You nodded.

Raiden held his hand out to you, and you took it nervously.

As your hand met his, you faded into darkness. It was as though a curtain of mist had been draped over you. It was calm, dark, and silent. You saw nothing. You felt almost nothing. It was just… darkness and blissful quiet. It was the most at peace that you had been in ages. Like you were floating in a sea of nothing. There was no pain, no complicated feelings, no conflict of any kind.

Just darkness.

The crackling of lightning woke you and you snapped your eyes open. Your stomach jolted with the feeling of weightlessness, pain, and confusion. You were surrounded by a swirling vortex of ink, whipping around you like a tornado. And you were near the ceiling! The ink had formed a seat beneath you, raising you uncomfortably high. On either side of you there were snapping ink creatures, dripping, and snarling. They looked like dragons! They reminded you, in fact, of the very same dragon that Liu Kang had made that first day where you’d found your arcana and had tried to mimic him. They hissed and snapped at the air beyond the inky vortex.

The cloudy vortex of ink began to wear thin as you panicked. Through it, you could see a sphere of lightning and fire surrounding you and keeping the dragons at bay. They bit at the magic and were repelled. There were sparks and embers and a roar almost like the angry sea. Panic gripped you and your arcana melted suddenly into nothingness and you fell from your high seat near the ceiling with a yelp.

Kung Lao leapt through the fire and lightning, rolled, and then caught you before you hit the ground. You had braced yourself for the fall, breath held, ready to protect your head and your limbs. Safe in Kung Lao’s arms, you leaned your head back and gasped for breath. Your hands and feet were tingling and trembling. With a snap, the fire and lightning were gone but the air was thick with electricity and heat. Kung Lao carefully set you down on the floor, kneeling at your side. He checked your eyes, which was incredibly uncomfortable. You could see his lips moving but you couldn’t make out the words. There was a painful and overwhelming ringing in your ears. To you it seemed like they were moving in slow motion.

“Are you okay?” Kung Lao waved his hand in front of your face and it was as though the world was suddenly full speed and incredibly loud. Raiden’s voice was booming and the electrical buzzing from the hall beyond was nauseating. Kung Lao grasped your hands and turned your arms over, still searching you for what you could only guess. He looked impressed. “That was wild.”

“Do you remember any of that?” Liu Kang crouched next to you, breath heavy, arms covered in soot. You shook your head, struggling with words still. What had happened? What had your arcana done while you’d been floating in the blissful nothing?

“You spoke of artifacts of great power, Y/N. They were hidden in places that you saw in your visions. The creature that you spoke of was hidden from my sight. If we can get those artifacts then there is a chance that I could see further into their purpose and his intent.”

You tried to sit up and away from Kung Lao but your body was exhausted and there was nothing for it. Your head felt too heavy to hold up on its own so Kung Lao urged you to keep resting back against him. Liu Kang was checking you pulse and making sure that you hadn’t broken anything during your ordeal. You weren’t even covered in ink. What was your arcana doing?

“Artifacts? And you know where those places were?”

“You were talking in this really spooky voice,” Kung Lao whispered. “It was weird.”

“I was able to see what you had been shown and yet you spoke of it with clarity in a voice that was not at all your own.”

“You had an accent, like a weird accent.” Kung Lao whispered again and Raiden gave him a disapproving look.

“I…” You drifted off. You didn’t know what to say. The idea of something else controlling your body when you were unaware made you grossly uncomfortable. You shrunk against Kung Lao and Liu Kang offered your hand a comforting squeeze.

“The first artifact was hidden in the Huangshan mountains here in China. The other? Mount Osore in Japan. Both are ancient holy sites filled with many legends about the old world.” Raiden bowed his head as he towered over you. “I recognized them, though it seems that when this creature hid these things, it was long ago. You must go there Y/N and uncover what was left behind. While you are gone, I will commune with the elder Gods and see what can be learned about this affliction, this shadow.”

You had a thousand question again. Elder Gods? The shadow obscured itself from Raiden? What had your ink done? What was the voice you’d spoken in? Why had you been floating? How had you summoned dragons? Your head was swimming and you leaned it back on Kung Lao’s shoulder and gasped for breath. You were exhausted, it was a wonder you didn’t just pass out.

“You must go there, Y/N. Go and uncover the truth hidden from you.”

“She can’t go alone.” Liu Kang objected.

“She’s plenty strong, Lou.” Kung Lao assured him, which surprised you considering how miserably you had failed the day before in the fight pit.

“Liu Kang is right. Not because I do not trust her strength but simply because we do not know what awaits. We do not know if this is a trap. We do not know what your arcana will do if you are left alone. You will not go alone so that others may be protected from any harm you might do.”

Oh. That was new. Raiden was worried that you were going to hurt yourself or someone else if you had a vision while you were alone. You couldn’t blame him. You were afraid of that too. You’d beaten the hell out of Liu Kang without realizing and even now, he seemed exhausted from using his arcana combined with Raiden’s godly magic just to keep you subdued without hurting you.

“You will go to Mount Osore in Japan first. I think that it is significant that you go there during the Autumn Pilgrimage which is only a few days from now.”

“This is starting to sound fun.” Kung Lao smirked.

“Kung Lao, I assure you that this is very important.”

“Yeah, very important.” He nodded and you had to resist rolling your eyes at him.

“In the meantime, one of you can go to Huangshan and gather information. When Y/N is finished in Mount Osore then she will be escorted to Huangshan while the other returns to me with the artifact.”

“What if I don’t know what to do when I get there?”

“Trust your visions, Y/N. And trust yourself. It is important that you realize that whoever has clouded your sight has done so for a great reason. What you see is important. If this creature is responsible for the clouding of your gift, then the fact that you still saw him doing something he didn’t intend for me to see, then it is a true testament to your potential strength as a seer. We must find a way to remove this shadow. I feel that doing so will lead you to do great things.” Raiden spoke with far more confidence in you than he’d had the other day. He’d basically told you before that you were incapable of being of any help.

Now he was claiming that you could lead them to victory. “But if you fail then your life will end long before the next tournament.”

Your stomach dropped and you felt Liu Kang’s grip on your hand tighten. Kung Lao was staring at a point on the floor to the left of you, eyes wide.

“One of you will accompany Y/N to Mount Osore while the other goes to Huangshan.”

“You had me at Autumn Festival,” Kung Lao regained his confidence far quicker than Liu Kang had. Liu bowed his head respectfully and let go of your hand.

“I’ve been to Huangshan before. It’s beautiful and… a lot of ground to cover. But I will leave the choice up to Y/N. This is her journey so I think that it’s only fair that the choice is hers.” Liu Kang smiled but the worry behind his eyes overpowered any excitement that he may have felt at the idea of traveling to these ancient and holy wonders.

“In that case, Y/N, the choice is yours. Who will accompany you to Japan? And who will stay here in China?”

(Author’s note! Let me know who you want to go where- I have some stuff planned out but it’s all pretty vague for this part and I’ll adapt depending on the character. IF I had to recommend, I’d say that Kung Lao is suited for Japan and Liu Kang is suited for Huangshan! But, either will do! THIS IS NOT THE BIG CHOICE. This is just a fun little thing I added in. The big choice IS coming soon tho, I assure you.)

[some-dr-writings]

Nagito, Rantaro, and Gundham comfort their S/O through their migraine

Nagito Komaeda:

·       It was a day like any other. Nagito was running late to class, his bad luck deciding to show up and leave him completely covered in scratches and bruises in the process. He dashed down hall after hall, running up the stairs not wanting to be any later, but of course when he reached the top of the case his shoelaces had somehow become untied, and he stepped on one, sending him tumbling back down the stairs, rolling and crashing into a wall. Strangely as he shakily got up, he heard… whimpering? And it wasn’t from himself despite how his whole body hurt.

·       “Y/N?” You sat against a wall next to the stairs, face tucked into your knees, covering your ears with your hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “Oh… hey Nagito.” Sitting beside you he could hear how unsteady your breathing was. You quietly, pitifully laughed before speaking. “M-migraine… been a while since I had one this bad though…” “Uh…” “Basically a real bad headache… one so bad it made sound louder, lights brighter an… shapes? I can’t see right now.” He draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling himself close, and when he spoke next he made sure keep his voice quiet. “Okay, just lean on me, alright?” He led the way to the nurse’s office, letting you burrow your face into his shoulder, shielding you from the light. Nagito decided that falling down the stairs was actually be good luck so he could be here for you.

·       You were placed in a dimly lit room after being given some pain medicine. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something better than making the trek all the way back to your dorm room to lock yourself away there for a time. “You can go… if you want to. I’ll just be laying here for a while.” “I want to be here. Want anything, just tell me and I get it for you.” You were quite for a moment, simply taking deep breaths, hoping that could ease the pain that seemed to throb behind your eyes and in your head. “… could you lay with me then?” After a moment you felt the bed lightly shift and heard the rustling of fabric. Hugging him, you burrowed your face into his chest. He held you close, hoping he could help you at all. He wasn’t entirely sure as to what he could do to help you, but he was going to do anything within his power to lessen your pain.

    Rantaro Amami:

·       “Babe! I’m back!” Silence was all he had gotten in response before shutting the door behind himself. “Y/N?” Were you out? Unlikely as it was, it was still possible. The thought of you going out for a walk or the like was a rather kind one for him. If you had gone out, you’d have left a sticky note explaining yourself somewhere he’d most certainly see but having not spotted anything of the sort he trotted through the apartment, straight for your temporary office.

·       Your door was left open. Taking a peek inside he found you sitting before that little table, the laptop illuminating your silhouette in that otherwise small, dark room.

·       “Babe…” You were snapped from your trace feeling how he had enveloped you in a hug from behind, planting a kiss on the side of your head. “I know stocks don’t wait, but you’re only human.” “I’ll take a break later.” He sighed, still hugging you he rested his chin on your head, his gaze scanning over the screen, how your mouse zipped about, flipping from page to page in the blink of the eye. “It’s been a few days now, what’s gotten you so worked up?” “A depression’s coming. I need to make the right moves so we can out last it, and still have enough to keep searching for your sisters. On top of that I also need to keep an eye out for my clients, I know for a fact some of them are going to panic and make rash decisions, I need to stop them.” You groaned, rubbing your stiff neck before yawning. Rantaro held on for an extra few moments before letting go. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” “Thanks.” When he got to the door he stopped, chuckling to himself. “You haven’t changed a bit since High School.” Oh, that clicking of the mouse pad actually stopped. “… You mean that in a good or bad way?” “Both. You still are so kind, to the point of sacrificing your own health. You can’t help others if you’re bedridden.” “Just a bit longer, I can keep going. I know my limitations… and I have you to babysit me.” “Har, har, very funny.”

·       He was not surprised going to bed alone that night. It did put a smile on his face though when not long after he got under the covers you moved yourself and your laptop to the bedroom, continuing your work atop the bed.

·       Rantaro awoke with a hum, the sun’s rays shining through the blinds landing on his face. He slowly flipped over and hugged your waist. “Morning Babe.” “… oh… m-morning…” Sitting up, he rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, seeing the bags under yours. You took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose before getting back to work. Giving you a peck on the cheek he slid out of bed, going straight to the restroom.

·       Still in his pajamas he set about making a light breakfast, promptly returning to you. Upon return to the bedroom, he found you burying your face into your hands. “huh?” You only seemed to notice he was there when he placed a water bottle in your lap. “o-oh, thanks.” After passing you your meal, he looked over what you had up, making sure he wouldn’t be messing up anything, as he exited out of your programs, shutting off the laptop, closing the lid before sliding it to the end of the bed. “You were right.” Rantaro didn’t say a thing in response, simply hugging you as he gave you some pain medicine, tucking you in right after.

·       A day of lazing around, at least he could make sure you were taken care of now. He also got all the cuddles he had missed out the night prior so he didn’t mind. He was rather used to this by now, though he didn’t care for how you so often pushed yourself, at least he could still help you. recalling the many times he had to play nurse for you in high school, it seemed he hadn’t change much either.

    Gundham Tanaka:

·       Even as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, he didn’t stop for a moment. Such things could not startle the Overlord of Ice. He dashed through the pouring rain, even as it pounded down, soaking through his clothes. There were several occasions where he had almost slipped on the slick puddles that covered the ground. The droplets that came cascading down blurred his vision, the torrent wind thrashed about knocking him over. He held tight to his coat, racing back to the apartment complex.

·       Upon reaching the room, he immediately shut the door before sifting through his inner coat pocket, taking out a wet paper bag. He ripped apart the soggy mass, getting to the pill bottle. Though sure he was right, still paranoid he compared it to the empty bottle he had in his pocket, finding the prescription was still exactly the same. Though ridiculous he worried somehow only once he got back to your place would he find he got the wrong one from the pharmacy.

·       With a heavy sigh he quickly dried himself off and placed on some clothing he kept at your place. Walking into the bedroom he found the blanket fort he had built around your bed was still standing. With a prideful smirk he crawled inside, you still cuddling the Devas, several pillows covering your head. When you felt the bed shift, you slowly knocked the pillows off, turning to face him, looking dreadfully exhausted. “My Emperor, I’ve received your healing salves.” You gave him a strained smile. It was strange to hear you Ice Lord use such a soft tone. He had spoken so quietly if it wasn’t for the fort dampening the thunderous noise, you likely wouldn’t have heard him. “Gundham… y-you didn’t have to get this the moment the pharmacy opened… it’s storming out, and it’s my fault for forgetting to get it last week. You didn’t even give me a chance to stop you.” He simply shook his head, passing you the bottle. “Nonsense. In your state you could not possibly make the journey unscathed, let alone in such a sleep deprived state having gotten no rest for eons now. I am at fault too. I had should have had the forethought to bring my own supplies of your care before arriving. But now that the world has flooded even I, could not fare the journey to my own domain long ago when your curse first showed signs of surfacing once more.”

·       As he had spoken you took your pills as well as water, hoping it’d at least dull the throbbing, pulsing pain that had pounded through your head, only having compounded as the world around you seemed to grow louder and louder as the storm continued to rage on. “Seems things would be easier if we just lived together.” You placed a pillow back over your head, not noticing how Gundham had frozen in place, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “… I suppose…” “Gundham, did you say something?” You were confused seeing how he stiffly laid beside you. “… Sharing a domain with one another… We already have given one another all other things, even access to obtain one another’s delicate items such as your medicine… Sharing that as well, is a thought I’m… most fond of.” You simply stared for a moment the pain making holding onto a single coherent thought for long difficult, but quickly it clicked. “Ah! Ow-” “My Emperor?” “I-I… hey, let’s talk about this when my medicine kicks in, okay. But… well… I didn’t really think about what I said but… always having you around, living together sounds nice.” With a growing wobbly smile his blush darkened. “Yes, I wish you to be of clear mind when we even consider this endeavor.”

·       As much as you hated the pain, perhaps for once some good came from it, keeping you from thinking before you speak.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

So, wait, toes Remus know that Virgil is a dragon too?? if he does, did Virgil tell him or did he just figure it out?

It wasn’t too long after their escape from the prison complex that Remus got irritated.

He didn’t regret dragging the strange assassin along — after all, Remus probably wouldn't have been able to escape without him — but he was getting more and more frustrated with his lack of response to...well, anything.

Remus has attempted more than once to scare and/or gross the stranger out with diatribes of gore and violence, but that hasn't phased him at all. Really, Remus thinks he probably should have expected that response from a dark-elven warrior, but it was a little jarring to have his usual monologues accepted with little more than a cursory glare. It didn't help that he had to speak to the soldier in the goblin language, which neither of them knew well enough to share many complex ideas.

Then, there were his rages. Remus wasn't really himself in that state, and he knew he was quite the sight to those who had never heard of a barbarian. He's pretty sure that if he had some foggy awareness of the assassin being disgusted or even mildly intrigued by his berserk mode, he would have remembered them. As it stands, nothing.

Then, there was his trump card: The first time Remus let out his true form and went berserk on a few guards, the assassin barely even noticed the difference. Remus dismissed it at the time, assuming they had just been busy doing their thing and hadn’t seen him do it. But, as they were sneaking away from the castle spires the next day and he had to dispose of some noble-looking witnesses, Remus definitely saw the assassin look at his wings.

Still he made absolutely no reaction! He doesn’t seem to react to much of anything, unless he’s being mad at Remus for yelling too loud or missing a swing. Admittedly, being able to spark annoyance in the stuck-up soldier is a little fun, but even his moments of anger are few and far between.

This is the first and only time someone has seen Remus’s kick-ass undead angel wings and not had a damn thing to say about it, and Remus can honestly say he hates it.

So, now that they’re finally outside of the Colony walls (and Remus doesn’t have to worry about the assassin chewing him out for making a scene,) Remus smirks deviously at the unsuspecting drow.

“Hey! Watch this,” Remus shouts, then closes his eyes to focus.

He reaches deep inside himself to connect with that boiling mass of discordant energy — a frothing core of divine light that’s spoiling rotten and necrotic, burning away the mold, healing, and then spoiling again, over and over with each beat of his two hearts. As he’s practiced ever since he was a child, Remus grabs that energy and pulls it out, dismissing a weight in his stomach that he hardly notices until it's time to let go.

The instinctual protective glamor that hides his true form dissolves in the firelight of his true essence, as bone-like angel wings, void-like eyes, and a tidal wave of smoke pour out of Remus like air from a popped balloon. A sickly green glow outlines his irises, his scars, and emblazons the emblem of a sword over his chest. He can feel it as the energy unfurls, how the world spins and sears into focus, how his senses grow sharp and breathing is suddenly so much easier than it’s ever been before. This is what he truly is, how he really looks, and it is a figure that strikes fear and awe in every creature who has the misfortune of seeing it.

All except one. Apparently.

The assassin simply stares at Remus, stone-still as Remus’s whole fucked up magical girl cutscene plays out point-blank in front of him. The fear-inducing necrotic gas rolls past the assassin's feet and into his lungs, but nothing happens. A few seconds pass, and he still hasn’t moved, but he’s clearly not gone into shock or anything of the kind.

Eventually, the assassin gets the impression that Remus is expecting a response. So, he cocks his hip out to one side and folds his arms, mimicking the facial expression that he’s gathered humans make when they’re confused: a pointed eyebrow raise.

(Given his usual glowering expression, it comes across more like sass.)

The minute passes, and though Remus feels the smoke dissipate and his eyes and scars return to normal with a sinking feeling in his gut, the wings remain. Instead of dismissing them, Remus throws his arms out wide with a growl,

“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not scared!”

“Scared?” The assassin parrots lowly.

A wide smile stretches across his lightly-freckled face. In the space of a blink he’s behind Remus, gently peeling the barbarian’s tattered shirt away to get a better look at the base of his wings.

He lays one ice-cold hand against the divot between them, touching him clinically, like he’s trying to figure out how solid Remus's wings are. His hand smooths gently across the stump where flesh gives way to semi-transparent bone before Remus's brain catches up. He shrieks and jumps away from him,

“What the shit are you doing?!” Remus squeaks, eyes wide as saucers. He would be more embarrassed by how absolutely unthreatening he sounds right now if he didn’t still feel the shape of that hand on him like a brand.

(He decides that this is more because of the supernatural nature of his wings, and not because Remus hasn't been touched that carefully by another person since he was like eleven. He doesn’t have time to unpack that feeling whatsoever.)

“You told me to look.” The assassin teases, openly laughing at Remus’s expense.

Then, — and Remus could swear he’s doing it slowly just to make sure Remus sees him — the soldier takes a deep exhale, and his purple eye flashes a soft glow. Suddenly, his body evaporates until he is a cloud of shadowy smoke. This smoke quickly blends in with the surrounding darkness of the cavern, and before Remus can get a word in edgewise, the assassin has re-solidified and is poking his back again.

“StoOOP TOuching me!” Remus yelps and spins around to face him, face red as blood and hands up in a defensive position, “Since when could you do that?!”

The assassin rolls his eyes at this, his hands falling to his sides. Now he takes a moment to think, before reaching down to untie his dagger belt and pull his tunic loose.

“What are you doing?” Remus protests louder, covering his eyes with his hands.

The assassin doesn’t respond.

Though he’s reciting curses in his head and trying very hard to respect this stranger’s privacy, Remus’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him.

He peeks out between his fingers to find the soldier shirtless, his white hair parted and pulled over his shoulders. He looks up at Remus with a completely unimpressed stare.

The assassin reaches out to grab one of Remus’s hands, then turns to show Remus his back.

Remus stares for a moment, eyes tracing the thin, ragged lines of a latticework of scars. They stretch across and around the assassin’s back, some older and some deeper. Most seem to have been inflicted by animals or monsters rather than weapons.

Remus feels no sense of pity at the display — he’s got his own patchwork of scars and his own complicated relationship to them, but over all he sees them more as a mark of survival, as stories to tell. But, he is definitely curious, and his mile-a-minute brain is already spinning outrageous tales to match each and every mark.

Then the assassin guides his hand up towards the top of his back, just alongside his spine. The skin there feels leathery, and significantly warmer than the skin of the elf’s hand, though the heat seems to be emanating from someplace lower on his spine. It’s also slightly off-color, a bit lighter than the skin around it. Whatever this is, this scar is old.

Remus traces the outline of it up, then off to the side as it tapers to a thin line between his shoulder and the base of his neck. The assassin’s ears twitch at the gesture, and Remus’s hand flinches away.

He turns to look at Remus over his shoulder, his neutral grimace returned.

“We are the same. Shadow and wings. You are kitrye'maelthra, right?”

“I don’t know what that is.” Remus frowns, always frustrated when the assassin sneaks an elven word or two into their rare conversations,

“I’m not super good at reading energies, but you don’t feel like an angel… You have wings??”

“No.” He frowns, his gaze becoming soft and distant, “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Remus sighs, now reeling at the possibilities.

What sort of dark elf grows wings, and how can they be removed? He winces at the phantom pain to his own wings as he parcels through every guess. Did a monster tear them off? The scar was so smooth, it seemed more like they had been burned away with acid. Did he fall into the pit of a living ooze, or maybe it was a punishment from some cruel cultist—

“Yours are broken.” The assassin pries, still staring at him while Remus zoned out.

“Broken? No they're not!”

“You have no skin.” The assassin remarks, like that should have been obvious, “And you look like a ghost.”

“Wait, skin? Like a bat?” Remus laughs, imagining it. He shakes his head, “I’m not supposed to have skin! —Well, I mean, I am, but also feathers. Y’know, like a bird?”

“Bird?” The assassin repeats, like he doesn’t understand the word. He probably doesn’t, goddamn Underdark.

“...Ehh, forget about it. I’ll show you one when we get up there.” Remus shakes his head.

The assassin pulls his tunic back up and re-ties it. While he waits, a sudden thought knocks Remus out of his gruesome imaginings.

He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but it takes him all of three seconds to snap and say it anyway,

“Hey,” Remus hums offhandedly, like he’s not extremely invested in knowing the answer, “If you could ‘go ghost’ or whatever this whole time, why didn’t you just poof yourself out of that cell?”

(“And why did you stay to help me?” Remus refuses to add, because he is not that attached to his little stray-criminal monsterboy, goddamnit. He refuses.)

The assassin doesn’t answer or turn back to him, simply staring off in the direction of their path.

Remus huffs and rolls his eyes,

“Fine, damn, keep your secrets. Bet you just can’t hold it that long~”

“Don’t xhandal me, lotha mal'dhalaruk. Usstan orn da'urzotreth dosst et'zarreth.”

“Again, I do not know what the fuck that is.”

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

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Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[hurting-fictional-people]

“Missed me, Whumpee?”

Their heart is hammering against their ribcage, so furiously it’s like it wants to run away just as bad as Whumpee does. Their hands shake so violently that even clasping their own forearms they won’t stop. Whumpee shakes their head no.

It’s not their wittiest reply but it’s better than falling to their knees and begging for mercy, as their brain is desperately pleading them to do.

Tell me you’re sorry and beg for my forgiveness and you might avoid some pain if I’m in the right mood, Whumper had taught them a long time ago. 

You belong only to yourself, and nobody has the right to hurt you, Caretaker taught them later, repeating it every time they got scared and begged for clemency after they were rescued. And they believed them, eventually. At first, they had been so terrified of the new setting that all they could think about was when the punishment would finally come. But then months went by and Caretaker was never anything other than kind and patient, and Whumper never found them, so they started believing it. Maybe they didn’t deserve pain, after all. 

Now, two years later, they know they are not less than anyone, that they deserve love and respect. They do. But then, why are they feeling the insistent need to kneel and demonstrate how sorry they are? 

“I asked you a question”, Whumper says, narrowing their eyes in that way Whumpee knows means pain.

They take a step back and regret it instantly. Never pull away from me. They can still hear Whumper’s growl, can still hear the crack of the whip slicing their back each time they failed to obey.

“No” they mutter, too scared to raise their voice. You are to be seen, not heard, Whumpee. It’d been a while since they last heard Whumper’s voice whispering orders in their head, but looking at their captor’s face, they can hear it as if they were saying it now. “Please–"

Whumper smiles, and a tear slips down Whumpee’s cheek. They can’t even remember what they were going to say.

“You’re looking good, Whumpee” Whumper utters, taking a step closer. And then another, until their toes are touching and Whumpee is so terrified they can’t bring themselves to move away. “I miss you, love. Never thought the house would be so silent without you there”.

They close their eyes. They don’t want to see it when Whumper picks them up as they did so many times before and takes them away from everything they love.

“You still look ravishing when you cry” Whumper whispers, brushing a finger across their cheek and catching a tear on their fingertip. Whumpee opens their eyes, just to watch as Whumper licks it with a provocative smile.

Their head is getting lighter and lighter, they can’t pull enough air to their lungs and the world seems to be getting more distant by the second. They wish they weren’t familiar with the feeling, but Whumper has introduced them to that dizziness so many times they could never forget what it means. They are going to pass out.

“Breathe, Whumpee”, Whumper says. It’s instinctual to obey that commanding tone. They do it without thought, taking the deepest breath they can, which is not much considering their breathing is coming in short, desperate gasps. They hear a chuckle, so close that lips brush against their ear. “Come on, love, you can do better than that. Take a deep breath for me”.

The tears fall freely now, and a sob escapes their trembling lips without their permission. Whumper places two fingers under their chin and lifts their head until they are staring right at their eyes. They follow the rhythm of Whumper’s breathing as they were taught to, uhtil the ground stops swaying under their feet.

“See, you can still do as I say” Whumper croons, rubbing a thumb over their cheek and smearing the tears across their face. “You can still be mine”.

Whumpee sobs again as they fight to keep their stance, fight the voice that tells them to kneel and beg and yield. It’s a battle they know is already lost when Whumper presses a chaste kiss to their forehead, and Whumpee lowers their head for them. 

“What’s going on here?” demands a voice from behind. Whumpee holds their breath. Caretaker.

Dread and hope intertwine inside Whumpee’s chest, both so strong their entire body seems frozen in place. Caretaker is there, they’ll save them. But, also, Caretaker is there. Only a few steps away from Whumper. 

It would be so easy for Whumper to hurt Caretaker and take Whumpee away. Caretaker has never met Whumper before, has no idea of the extent of the threat standing in front of them. Whumpee can’t let them touch Caretaker. They’ll go back if they must, if it means keeping Caretaker safe. 

They could never really believe their luck in finding such a blissful life anyway. Deep down they knew it was too good to be true, even if they had believed it was real for a short amount of time. It’s okay. They’ll be okay, they’ll be where they were always supposed to be. They’ll go willingly as long as Caretaker doesn’t get hurt.

“Get away from them”, Caretaker shouts before Whumpee can say a word. Eyes peek from the aisles next to theirs. 

Right. They are at the supermarket. Whumpee had forgotten anything other than Whumper existed ever since they laid their eyes on them.

To Whumpee’s bewilderment, Whumper’s smile dissolves and they take a step back. Caretaker is there in an instant, hugging Whumpee closely as they glare at Whumper.

“What happened?” Caretaker asks in a low voice, still staring at Whumper, as if they know the person in front of them has starred in Whumpee’s worse nightmares.

Whumpee wants to tell them who is smirking at them, but the terror keeps them mute and petrified in Caretaker’s embrace.

Whumper looks around nonchalantly, the face of innocence and confusion. Looks back at them, one single eyebrow raised.

“I was just looking at the chips shelf and they freaked out. I was trying to get them to calm down” they say, raising their hands in surrender, “I’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry”.

Still, Caretaker doesn’t move, eyeing Whumper carefully, as if they could feel the fear emanating from Whumpee.

“Don’t ever come near them again, do you hear me?” Caretaker hisses, “You–"

“Please”, Whumpee whispers before they can go on. Caretaker freezes mid-sentence, turning their head slightly to the side to hear them better, without ever losing track of Whumper. “Please, let’s go home”.

They nod rigidly and with one last glare at Whumper, turn around, never letting go of Whumpee’s waist as they step away. 

Right before they are out of earshot, Whumpee hears a croon at their back. 

“See you soon, love”.

A shiver runs down Whumpee’s spine and they start trembling again, but Caretaker doesn’t seem to hear it, so they just keep walking, even though their mind insists on stopping. If they do, they might fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness or make promises of how good they’ll be from now on. If they stop, they will recognize the power Whumper still holds over them. So they keep walking, even when silent tears wet the collar of their shirt.

Caretaker doesn’t let go of Whumpee until they’re inside the car, where they finally look at Whumpee with a question written in their eyes. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened back there?” they ask in a soft voice.

Whumpee lowers their head and stares at their hands, clasped tightly on their lap, still shaking. They’ll tell the truth if Caretaker asks the question. You must never lie, they were once taught, and right now they won’t dare challenging one of the old rules. Part of them wants to tell Caretaker who was the person that turned them into this skittish mess, but the rest is too scared of what Whumper might do to both of them if they do. Still, if Caretaker asks, they’ll answer.

But they don’t. 

Caretaker just nods and starts driving. It’s an agreement they have ever since Whumpee first got to their house. You can tell me anything you want to, but you can also keep anything you want to yourself, okay? Caretaker said that so many times that it was the first thing they really believed at the beginning. 

The ride back home takes only a few minutes, and Whumpee uses each one of them to stare at the window and wonder if that’s the last time they’ll see those charming houses, feel the humming of a car, sit next to Caretaker.

As soon as they enter the house, Caretaker makes sure to lock the door and close the windows, as they know Whumpee likes to do whenever they feel this panicked. 

They just wait by the door, silent tears tracing down their cheeks, arms wrapped around themselves tightly. Once Caretaker closes the last window, they come back to Whumpee’s side, staring at them with concern in their eyes.

“Hey”, they say gently “I don’t know what happened, and it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but you know you are safe here, right?”. Their breath is coming out in hitching gasps as they try to hold back a sob. “Can you look at me, Whumpee?”.

They do, but behind a sea of tears, Caretaker is just a human-shaped blur. They can still feel Whumper’s fingers wiping their tears, brushing against their cheek in that featherlike touch.

“The flour” they mumble. Caretaker tilts their head to the side in confusion. “We, we forgot to buy flour. That’s, that’s why we… went there. The supermarket. Now you can’t b-bake the cake, I–"

“We can get the flour later”, Caretaker says “It’s okay. You are far more important than a cake”.

“I’m sorry”, they choke out, burying their face on Caretaker’s shoulder. They stiffen for a moment, surprised, before wrapping their arms tightly around Whumpee’s quivering figure. “I’m so sorry”.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for” Caretaker assures, running one hand through Whumpee’s hair. “It’s okay. You are okay. You are safe, Whumpee”.

Sobs shake Whumpee’s entire body as Caretaker continues to whisper against their hair that they are safe, they are home, they are never going to get hurt again.

But as much as they want to believe them, all Whumpee can hear is Whumper’s voice saying see you soon, love over and over again.

[plumeriaheart]

You can keep the shirt [Mammon/Reader]

It’s Mammon loving hours, lads! Jk, it’s always Mammon loving hours on this blog. Thank you so much @mcfishayy-blog for commissioning me to write this, I had a lot of fun doing so! I hope you enjoy this fic ♡

I’m currently accepting writing commissions for Obey Me!, so if you like my writing, feel free to check them out! 

FANDOM: Obey Me!

RATING: pure smut

PROMPT: “You’re not wearing anything underneath that, are you?”

WORD COUNT: 3k

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Maybe it is a bold decision to leave your room in the middle of the night, but what else are you supposed to do? Sleep wouldn't find you either way, you might as well keep yourself entertained, you think. As you look around your room, trying to find something that piqued your interest, your gaze falls upon a piece of clothing – a black shirt, too big for your small frame. You don't remember when he left it here, but it couldn’t have been too long ago. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed it sooner.

As you walk over and pick up the shirt, an idea strikes you. Maybe you could bring the shirt back to Mammon, and for once stay the night at his room? You’re certain that Mammon would not kick you out of his room. He’d think of some silly excuse to allow a human like you to stay, sure, but you don’t think he’d make you leave again.

You gingerly strip out of your nightgown and replace it with his shirt. It’s a bit shorter than your nightgown was, ever so slightly slipping off of one shoulder. When you take a look at yourself in the mirror, blood rushes to your cheeks. His warmth may be missing from the shirt, but his scent still lingers and when you close your eyes, you can almost imagine his arms wrapped around you. Then you shake your head to snap out of it – you’re not the one supposed to get flustered by this!

Peeking out of the door crack to see whether the coast is clear, you take a deep breath and step out of your room. Mammon’s room isn’t far away, and you pray that Lucifer isn’t patrolling the hallway tonight. If he saw you like this, you would surely die of shame!

But luck is on your side tonight, and you get to Mammon’s room without being spotted. You knock on the door and wait. A couple of seconds pass and you almost begin to worry that Mammon is fast asleep, that he can't hear you knock and maybe your little plan has failed already… Then, the door opens. Before you stands Mammon, half-awake, ready to complain about being woken up.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Heat rises to your cheeks when you become aware of how silly your plan must’ve been after all. But his ears seem to perk up at the sound of your voice, eyes widening as if he just realised who was standing in front of him.

“What are ya’ doing here? Ain’t you supposed to sleep at a time like this?” Well, look who’s talking! You only shrug your shoulders, causing the shirt to slip further down your arm. It’s now that Mammon takes a closer look at you, and you can see his face redden within an instant.

“W-What are… What are ya’ wearing?!" He pulls you into his room and shuts the door behind him – locks it, even – to make sure nobody can get a glimpse of you. You can tell he's torn between staring at you and not letting you see his beet-red face.

“I couldn’t sleep, and, well… You left your shirt in my room, so I thought I’d return it,” you say as nonchalantly as you can, letting an innocent smile dance along your lips. Mammon lifts his head to look at you once more, blushing more as his eyes wander up your legs, your torso and finally meet yours. He’s mesmerised by you, rendered speechless by the sight in front of him.

To take things even further, you step closer to him, letting your fingertips trail along his collar. You can see the shiver running up his spine, hear him take in a sharp breath at how close you are.

"Wh… What game are ya' playin'?" The demon asks you breathlessly. His eyes never leave yours, and it seems that something within them gives him the courage to touch you. His hands come to rest on your hips, setting your skin aflame where he touches you. You’re about to open your mouth to answer his question when he abruptly pulls back, starting to stammer and avoid your gaze.

“Y-you're not… You're not wearing anything underneath… that, are you?" You can tell it's taking all of his self-control to keep his eyes averted. And he's torn – torn between wanting to see you in his clothes and wanting to see you stripped bare just for him.  

“Nothing but your shirt, Mammon.” With a gulp, he looks up at you and when he sees your innocent smile, he curses. How can you act so devious and still look so pure while doing it? He’s completely at your mercy, and both of you know it. You beckon him to come closer, and he’s not going to be told twice. His fingers tangle in your hair as he makes you look up at him.

“You’re… awfully bold for some human, aren’t ya?” His voice is but a whisper, and his newly found confidence falters when you place your arms around his neck. Being this close, he can’t hide his reddened cheeks from you. You wouldn’t want him to, either.

“One of us had to make the first move eventually, don’t you think?” You smirk before you pull yourself up just enough to place your lips on his. For a single second, he freezes, but then he kisses you back. It feels so much better than all the times he imagined what your lips would feel like, the times he imagined dragging his tongue along your lower lip and savouring the sweet expression on your face. There are so many times he imagined what it would be like to kiss you, how you would feel in his arms and what kind of enticing sounds you'd make – but none of his dreams could come close to this. Your warmth burns his skin and he begins to trail kisses down your neck, sucking the soft skin until it darkens. He hears your sigh, taking it as encouragement to keep going and plasters further kisses down to your collarbone, making sure to mark you as his. As much as he wants to take a step back and admire his work on your skin, he lets his lips trail back to your mouth so that he can recapture your lips in another heated kiss.  

His hands slip under your shirt, fingers tracing up your spine and pulling you closer. Your thigh brushes up against his crotch, and you’re surprised to find him hard already. He groans into the kiss, his body shivering at your touch. Now you’re the one placing kisses upon kisses down his neck, one of your hands tugging at his shirt.

“Take that off for me, will you?” You whisper against his skin, and it takes only one second of him stepping away, pulling his shirt over his head before he pulls you close against his body once more. Your lips find his again, hands roaming over his chest, fingertips caressing his firm muscles. Your touch makes him shiver, goosebumps appearing on his skin. It takes a little bit of strength, but you manage to lead him towards his bed without breaking the kiss – but then you give him a little push, and he falls on his bed. He looks at you with hunger as you climb on top of him, making sure to brush your butt against his crotch. An involuntary whimper falls from his lips, and it makes you melt. You decide to try his limits, slowly grinding against his clothed member and you see him biting down on his lip, trying to remain silent.

“Don't do that. I want to hear you, Mammon," you tell him, and he nods slowly. Soon enough, the room is filled with his heavy breathing and moans. The heat begins to pool at your core, the friction against your clit driving you wild. Your hips move on your own as you watch the way his chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. Mammon's hips buck up against you, causing a squeal to slip from your lips. You have to resist the urge to press your hand over your mouth to keep quiet; you want him to hear just how good he's making you feel.  

As you keep riding him, you throw your head back and let the pleasure run through you. You don’t notice him reaching for you, letting his hand slip beneath your shirt and cup your breast, but you sigh contently at the sensation. His thumb toys with your nipple, sending multiple shivers down your spine, and you find yourself moaning his name as pleasure takes you over for the first time tonight. Your hips keep rocking against his as your body shakes from the high, pure electricity running through your nerves.

“Fuck, you… You look so good like that,” Mammon breathes beneath you, doing his best to memorise the way your lips parted as you reached your climax, the way you kept moaning his name – all of it is art to him, and he knows he would never tire of it.

Your grip on the bedsheets tightens as you climax, looking for any kind of support as ecstasy runs through your body. Your head feels hazy, overwhelmed by how much pleasure you’re feeling – maybe his presence is the reason for how intense your feelings have become? A few moments pass as you try to catch your breath, hips slowing to a halt eventually.

“Hah, sorry… I got carried away,” you mumble sheepishly, embarrassed at your loss of control, moving to get off his lap. He stops you as he sits up, one arm snaking around your waist. Adoration lingers in his gaze, the slightest hint of a smile visible on his lips. Your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you.

“No wonder, you’re with THE Mammon, after all!” Seeing you come undone must’ve given him a new sense of confidence. Your thoughts are still running wild and you’re lost in his eyes, so you don’t notice how one of his hands travels between your thighs until he touches your slick pussy. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm, and a jolt of pleasure runs through you as he lets his fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but rest your forehead against the crook of his neck. The way you react to him and his touch makes his chest swell with pride, and he wants to see more of it; he wants to be the reason you feel good.

You gasp when he slips two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few moments to adjust to the new sensation before he begins pumping them into you at a fast pace. An involuntary cry falls from your lips, enough to make him stop dead in his tracks.

“You okay?” His voice is suddenly laced with worry, and you don’t have the words to respond. You take a couple of seconds to get used to this feeling before you raise your head. The worry in his voice is nothing compared to the one in his eyes; afraid that he might do something that could hurt you. It almost makes you want to cry at how much he cares.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Please… keep going,” you plead. Something about the way your voice sounds colours his cheeks red, but he’s too enchanted by your begging expression to notice. He begins to move his fingers slowly, taking them out almost entirely before pushing them back in. His thumb works your clit, putting pressure on it in the right moments to give you the most pleasure. It’s easy for him to read your reactions; after all, he’s been taking note of you ever since you arrived in the Devildom. When your eyes roll back in pleasure, he increases the speed ever so slightly. When you bite your lip, he coaxes out another moan by circling your clit faster.

You’ve lost yourself to his touch by now, and yet he can’t take his eyes off of your face. He takes note of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the hair sticking to your temples. In all the millennia he has lived, he has never seen anything or anybody as beautiful as you in this moment. Perhaps you had some magic in you after all.

Your walls begin to tighten around his digits, causing him to pick up his speed. The heat begins to build inside of you once more, muscles tensing as you get closer to your climax. You let your fingers curl in his hair, pulling on it ever so slightly as he fingers you. Your moans begin to increase in volume before his lips find yours again, locking them in a kiss as you reach your second orgasm of the night.

It takes all of his self-control to eventually break the kiss so he can look at you again. A content smile graces your face, eyes hazy from the pleasure but filled with affection for… him?

He slowly pulls out his fingers, drenched in your juices, and lifts them to his face as if to admire how wet you are – how wet he made you! You blush furiously when he starts to lick his fingers clean, grinning at you, and yet you seem to be unable to take your eyes off of the sight in front of you. The obscene gesture embarrasses you, so you press your lips against his to stop him, tasting your salty essence on his lips.

Your hands wander down his chest towards his pants, and you waste no time in pulling them down enough for his cock to spring free. When you let your fingers wrap around the slick head, Mammon lets out a groan. You realise how sensitive he must be, watching you cum twice and not being able to do find any release. To remedy that, you shift and position yourself on his lap so that his cock is aligned right under your pussy.

“You sure you can go for another round?” He begins to question you, taking note of the way your thighs tremble. His genuine concern for you, especially in a situation such as this, makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah. I want this,” you tell him before you lower your hips. His length slips inside of you with no problem, but you allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust to his size before you continue moving your hips. You savour the way he fills you up, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls to accommodate him.

He places his hands beneath your thighs, helping you ride him in case your strength gives out. The feeling of your tight walls around him could be enough to let his carnal desire take over, but he is way too aware of how sensitive you must be right now. It’s not normal for him to be this considerate, especially not in a situation like this. He’s the Avatar of Greed, for hell’s sake!

As if you can read his thoughts, you let out a breathy chuckle. “You don’t have to hold back for my sake, Mammon.” You’re surprised at how slow he’s fucking you right now, and by the look on his face you can tell something is bothering him. You cup one of his cheeks and kiss him, and this is when he finally cracks.

His lips crash into yours over and over again; sucking on the soft skin of your neck; biting your shoulder. It’s as if he’s trying to devour you, and you can feel the greed radiating from him, infecting you. He pulls you close to him as he lowers himself back on the bed, your chest pressed to his. You hold onto him, nails digging into his skin and surely leaving marks, and yet all you can think about is that you want him – all of him.

When he begins to thrust his cock into you, your moans grow louder and louder, and his lips can only muffle the sound of them so much. Soon, the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, heavy breathing and loud moaning; a symphony of lust that would render even Asmodeus jealous.

You wish you had more energy to grind your hips against his, helping him cum faster, but as soon as he notices your effort, he stops you. Guiding your ass up and down his cock, he brings one hand to your face and lets you suck on his fingers. The way you hungrily lick at them and take them into your mouth makes him moan, before he moves his fingers to your clit, teasing it as he fucks you faster. You’re aware of what he’s about to do, and yet you cry out when you feel him flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I don’t… Think I can hold out much longer,” the demon groans, and you can tell by the way his thrusts start to become more sloppy that he’s close. His fingertips dig deeper into your skin, and you can tell that he’s going to leave bruises on your skin.

“Me neither,” you breathe, and it’s as if that alone is enough to push him over the edge. You feel the way his cock pulsates before his load fills you, heat burning inside of your core. A strangled moan escapes your lips as both of you cum, feeling the way his hips buck into you sporadically before he comes to a stop. You’re sure he can feel your heart racing in your chest as you try to regain your breath.

For a while, your ragged breathing is the only sound filling the room. You slowly begin to sit up, feeling his member twitch inside of you as you move. He lets out a quiet whimper as you raise your hips just enough for his cock to slip out, his seed dripping down your legs. His eyes roam your body, stopping at your legs as he watched the white spill out of you ever so slowly.

You let yourself fall onto the bed next to him, turning to the side so you can look at him properly. His hair is a total mess, his cheeks flushed and a couple of love bites decorate his neck. Reaching out to push his hair out of his face, you smile.

.

.

“Mammon?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can walk after that.”

A/N: I don’t think i’ve written smut on this scale before, so I hope it reads okay~ it was a lot of fun to explore Mammon in this setting, tbh!

[angelanimedesaray]

hey i saw your requests are open and i have the BIGGEST dad levi brainrot rn, can i request Levi and Reader in a long term relationship, reader’s sibling has a newborn kid and reader takes care of the kid and Levi sees how motherly reader is being, how would he react? i’m curious about what you think!

AN:  Ohhhhhh I love some Dad!Levi, I’ve got at least two or three fic ideas with eventual Dad!Levi, so it’ll be good to dip my toe into the waters a little earlier than I otherwise would have :D  I had these two little short scenes almost immediately come to mind when I read this and while I was at work, and its the first thing I started to do when I got home :D  Thank you for the request--I don’t get many <3

Plus, I think everyone needs some happy fluff after the two story whammies I just delivered XD

Fanfic One-Shot Request is below the cut.

~*~Different Kinds of Gifts~*~

*Levi’s POV*

He was midway through his day, finished with his daily cleaning routine (besides his own room) and finished with helping with morning training.  He was giving himself a bit of a break, and by break, he meant he was going to spend a few hours in his office doing paperwork.

When he opened the door to his office, he was met with an unexpected sight.

It wasn’t the same office that he used to have--once the two of you had solidified your relationship as a serious one and started practically living with one another, Erwin had moved the two of you into a larger space that was more like a small apartment than a simple office and bedroom.  The main front room was still his office, but it doubled as a living room as well, with a couch, fireplace, bookshelves, and lounge chairs taking up a portion of the room off to the side, though Levi’s desk and workspace was still center, and a straight shot from the front door with nothing in the way.  Instead of one branched off room there were three--the bedroom, of course, off to the right, as well as a washroom and a small private kitchen whose doorways were along the left wall.

Practically the lap of luxury by Scout standards.

However, right now the little sanctuary you two shared was occupied by more than just you.

Levi paused just in front of the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob and the door hovering open just a crack as he processed the sight in front of him.

You were sitting on your usual spot on the couch, somewhere he actually knew to look for you whenever he needed to find you.  However, in your arms was a small, carefully wrapped bundle, tiny arms hanging free and moving involuntarily around in the air, coming to curious stops whenever they collided with your chest, neck, or chin, little fingers curling instinctively against the human being they found.  A small face of soft and not-yet defined features was peeking out from the bundle, the cloth wrapped around its head like a snugly fitting cloak, and its eyes were open, staring widely at your face as you peered down at the babe with a soft smile, a mouth that could probably be covered by the pad of his finger working as if it was trying to copy the sounds you were making as you spoke softly to the little one.

For a moment, Levi was just...confused.  What were you doing with a baby in his office?  Where had the baby even come from?  He was pretty sure that whole thing about storks coming to deliver swaddled babies to expecting parents was an out for parents who weren’t ready to have the babies talk.

He was pretty sure.  The sudden appearance of a baby in your arms made him doubt for a couple of moments.

With the initial surprise passing, Levi shut the door behind him much more quietly than he initially would have, though you had already looked up by now to see him entering the room, that soft smile still on your face.

“Hey--didn’t expect to see you for a couple more hours, at least,” you said, as if it wasn’t noteworthy that you had a baby in your arms.

“Paperwork--what’s with the...”

Levi was dismissive about why /he/ was here, considering he was much more interested in why the /baby/ was here.  You only chuckled at his confusion, though, one of your fingers brushing against the baby’s little cheek and making the baby try and look to see what touched them, eyes following the finger as it traced lazy circles in the air in front of the baby’s face.

“You know how my sister had her baby the other week?” you said pointedly, and the pieces clicked into his mind.  Ah, /that’s/ what was going on.  Babysitting.

“I thought their boy already had a reputation for his lungs,” Levi said wryly, moving over to his desk and taking off his jacket, draping it carefully over the back of the chair for the time being until he was ready to put it back on and get back to work /outside/ his office.

“Oh, believe me, he does--he came here screaming and crying and people kept checking in to see what the hell was going on,” you said with a chuckle.  “But we got pretty well acquainted.  He seems to like me, now.  Don’t tell my sister, though--she’ll want to know what my secret is.”

“What is your secret?  They were having a rough time getting him to quiet down,” Levi remarked as he took a seat, remembering the tired circles under your sisters eyes the last time he’d seen her and how she’d been running through an exhaustive list of what they’d already tried to calm their newborn son down.

You shrugged.  “There is none.  I guess I just have a gift for it,” you said with a twinkle in your eye, turning your attention back to the newborn as he seemed to be burying his face in your chest.  “Hey, that’s not going to give you any food, I’m not your Momma!  Where’s that bottle.”

“Hey, hands off, those are mine,” he grumbled at the baby as he pulled a stack of papers towards him.  You shot him a look which he returned with the ghost of a smile flickering across his face, a bit of amusement in his eyes as he kept track of your movement through the office and apartment as you sought out the bottle to feed him.

Levi’s attention turned back to the paperwork he was planning on doing once his curiosity had been satiated, a relative silence falling over the room.  For the most part.  There was the occasional noise from the baby that got to eagerly suck on the warm milk after you’d disappeared briefly into the kitchen to heat up the milk.  You walked in slow, directionless lines around the room, wandering around to keep the baby entertained and in motion while you fed him, and a few minutes afterwards when you burped him (Making sure there was no mess left behind, of course), and as you simply hummed or talked to him, finger brushing against his lips, or his ears, or his cheeks, just giving him little reassuring touches until one of his hands curled around your fingers.  The smile you had when that happened was heart-melting, even if you had prompted it by letting your finger brush against the baby’s tiny hand, and it might have been a reflex more than anything else.

It wasn’t long before the baby was sleeping, but instead of laying him down on, say, the bed in the bedroom, you simply brought out a crescent moon pillow from the stash in the bedroom your sister had apparently given you while you were babysitting, and sat on the couch.  There you cradled the baby closely to you, mostly laying him on the pillow so he was securely held to you and you wouldn’t have to keep a hold of him with your arms, though they rested around him along the rim of the pillow.  Once he was safe and secure, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh and slipping off into a light sleep, something Levi could tell by the sound of your breathing.

The entire time, his attention kept getting drawn off the paperwork in front of him, watching you out of the corner of his eyes so you wouldn’t catch him, gaze following you as you paced around the room, watching how you interacted with the baby that seemed so content in your arms.  Now that you were asleep, he gazed more openly, even putting the pen down for a few moments with his arms lying loosely in front of him on the table, a small smile curling across his lips as he watched you and the baby sleeping soundly, the peaceful silence in the room somehow warmer than the sun outside.

A few days later, and the sight of you with your sister’s baby still hadn’t left his mind.

Currently, the image was plaguing him as the two of you stole some time for yourselves, the door to the apartment/office locked, with you sitting properly on the couch and Levi stretched out along the couch, his head in your lap as you gently threaded your fingers through his hair in a relaxing, soothing manner, allowing him to relax and stew in his own thoughts as he gazed up at you.

He was thinking about that peaceful moment when he’d watched you after you’d fallen asleep with the baby situated securely within your arms on the pillow.  He thought about that warm smile and the bright look in your eyes, how quickly the baby had taken a liking to you, how you’d said you had a gift for it.  He was looking at you in the present, but his mind was projecting an image that had been slowly solidifying in his mind since that day, of what it would be like, what it would feel like.

“What if we had a baby?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden question as you looked down at him in your lap, your hand pausing halfway through his hair.  “What?”

His cheeks colored with a light blush as he realized he’d just blurted that out loud without any context or explanation, just dropped it on you without warning.  “Not right now, there’s too much risk, but...eventually.  What if we had a baby?  When this is over?”

Your eyes were wide with surprise, lips moving without words coming out as if you were seeking for the right thing to say.  Suddenly, he got worried he’d somehow said the wrong thing, that he’d simply assumed, that he’d let his little fantasies run away with him without stopping to see what you thought about it.

“Unless...you don’t want kids,” he said, quickly trying to retreat and take back his blurted out question, already mentally kicking himself for springing this on you.

“No, I...I think I do, some day, I just...wasn’t expecting to be talking about it right now.  Honestly, I thought I was going to be the one to bring it up, not you,” you said with a slight laugh, hand running much more tenderly and intentionally this time through his hair to soothe him and any worries your hesitation had caused him.  “I do.  I’d love to have a child with you one day, Levi,” you promised him quietly.

Levi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes to conjure up that mental image of you holding a child you’d had with him, that same warm look in your eyes--no, warmer.  Sparkling.  Like they were right now as you promised to have a child with him.

“One day...” he agreed in a low murmur.

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds

[wastelandnarry]

Georgia - hes

summary: He never should of told her, never should’ve let her see inside at what was troubling his mind. Now he’s singing Georgia on his mind. 

author’s notes: inspired by Georgia - Vance Joy. I have wanted to write something with this song for the longest time and I thought it matched a Harry scenario perfectly! I hope you guys enjoy!

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of food, breakup, angst. 

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Harry watched her from the window as she walked through the crowd. His eyes had caught hers once or twice during the night already and he was convinced that he'd lose his mind if it happened again. The party had been a distraction for him, a way to get his mind off of the stress of his upcoming film and maybe even just to let loose for the first time in months. He'd been nursing the drink in his hand, the soft pink liquid in the glass swirling with whatever edible glitter that had been added in. If he was being honest, he'd only grabbed the drink after having watched her grab one for herself and smile to herself when she took a sip. She was electric, the people around her hanging onto every word that left her, something Harry watched from a distance, hoping that eventually the courage would kick in and he'd be able to walk over to her.

She was, after all, his ex-girlfriend. 

Georgia had come into Harry's life all at once and he wasn't too sure how he'd managed to convince her to date him. She was kind and bold, always knowing when to reassure him on the days when his confidence was low. She was giving and had a laugh that Harry could listen to on repeat if it was ever possible. Georgia was something to behold and Harry had somehow managed to be loved by her. Their whirlwind of a relationship had started one night after they'd run into each other for the fifth time at the coffee shop near Harry's studio. He'd been up for an ungodly amount of hours and needed a caffeine kick. He was convinced that he looked more like a mummy than an actual human and just his luck, Georgia had been sitting in her usual seat. 

She'd been typing away on her laptop with the steaming mug of a vanilla latte, the one Harry learned she always got, cooling off next to her. Her eyes had been focused on the screen in front of her, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as Harry thanked his luck that she hadn't spotted how out of it he looked that day. That was until the barista called his name out and her eyes shot up, meeting his in the loud and bustling shop. Her kind smile, the one that Harry would remember long after their occasional run-in, had left Harry breathless as he rushed over to grab his drink. 

"Early morning?" her voice, which Harry decided was the best thing he'd heard all morning, said as she walked past him when she walked past him to throw away the banana peel she'd been holding onto, "You don't usually pop in until much later."

"Oh, so you've noticed me?" Harry asked and chuckled, trying his best to mask his embarrassment as he pulled down the hoodie that had been covering the unruly curls on his head. 

"Hard not to, considering everyone in this place goes quiet the second you walk in here. Which I should thank you for, gives me a moment of peace and clarity," she nodded and chuckled, "Georgia, it's nice to meet you,"

"Harry,"

"Yeah, I assumed."

Waking up most days, the sun was barely peeking out behind the clouds and Harry had always felt the pull his bed gave him. If he didn't rub his eyes and stretched out his back, he could almost hear the mattress whispering, "come back to bed, Harry," which was all he wanted to do. But he was an adult and his latest movie project had called for some very early morning call times. So there Harry was, waking up before the sun even made it's presence known to the world, sliding on some comfy joggers and his favorite hoodie to shield him from the morning cold. 

"Bub," Georgia's tired voice whined out from his bed, "Too early, don't go."

"I'm sorry, bug, I've got to head out soon, shooting early today and tomorrow," Harry sighed, looking over at the lump in the blankets that was his girlfriend, "Go back to bed, yeah?"

"Wanna kiss," she yawned and peeked out from the blankets, her tired eyes meeting Harry's in the dim-lit room. 

Harry smiled, his feet padding against the wood floors as he made his way over to her side of the bed. Harry had asked her if she'd wanted to move in a few weeks before, which had resulted in Harry's place being filled with pieces of her and him mixed in with one another. His hand found a spot on her hip, rubbing a pattern onto the exposed skin as he leaned down to press a kiss onto her lips. He knew it was dangerous. The kisses shared between the two of them usually ended with moans and whimpers being let out into the room and Harry really couldn't afford to be late to filming. But Georgia's soft lips on his pulled him closer into her, and the bed, and he found himself with that same pulling feeling his mattress would give him back when he was alone. 

"Have fun today, yeah?" Georgia breathed out, her forehead resting against Harry's as they both took in one last moment together. 

The drive to the set, which was usually when Harry drove in silence and tried to get into character, was filled with soft music. Harry's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the playlist his phone had been playing for the past couple of weeks, a mix of his favorites, Georgia's favorites, and songs that reminded them of one another. Harry had been stopped at a red light when a song he'd picked for the playlist started playing, his smile growing as he heard the opening strums of the guitar. 

"...I could easily lose my mind, the way you kiss me will work each time, calling me to come back to bed singing Georgia on my mind..."

Walking back through the front door, something Harry had done more times than he could count, after his tiring day at the studio, he hadn't expected to be met with Georgia dancing around the living room. Music floated through the house; one of Georgia's favorite things about his place, which she'd told him late one night in bed, was how great the acoustics were and how the music just sounded better. Harry watched as her she danced along to the beat of her favorite song, one which had been on repeat for the past two weeks. His heart swelled and his tired body seemed to spring to life as he watched Georgia turn and face him, her eyes wide and filled with innocence at behind caught lost in a moment.

“Harry!” she said excitedly and rushed over to pull him into a tight hug, one that Harry happily returned, “How was it?”

“Was okay, darling, not as entertaining as that dance though,” he teased, his lips finding her forehead, “What a nice show to walk into.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” she mumbled and rolled her eyes, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Dinner has been filling, the wine shared between Harry and Georgia making them both warm and fuzzy. They’d cleaned up, humming along to the song that was playing from the living room, and before they knew it they were both laying on the couch taking one another in. Harry had found comfort between Georgia’s thighs, his body slotting in between hers as if they were made to be, his lips exploring the softness of her own. Harry could’ve kissed her for the rest of his life if he tried, he might’ve already been doing that. He always seemed to lose track of time whenever Georgia was in his arms and her lips were on his. The wine certainly hadn’t helped, their movements clumsy and slow as the took each other in and explored their bodies together. It wasn’t until he felt Georgia’s hips push up against his, both of them letting out a groan, that he slowly pulled away. His eyes opened to find a view that had been so heavenly to him in the past couple of months since their relationship had started.

“What is it…?” Georgia asked, her chest rising and falling with the panty breathes she was taking.

“You just…you’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, “I don’t deserve your love,” he mumbled.

Underneath him, Georgia was the definition of breathtaking. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated, taking over him and leaving Harry with goosebumps on his skin, almost as if she was touching him all over and yet not at all. Her lips, which Harry has been attacking not too long ago, were plush and pink, a sheen of their shared spit still covering them. Her hair had been tousled and no longer framed her face while she laid on the couch, it was poking out in different directions and she might’ve called it horrendous at that angle but Harry loved it. He loved everything about Georgia, she was the one who could make him lose his mind.

“Oh please,” Georgia laughed and shook her head, turning to press a soft kiss into Harry’s palm, “I could never and would never want to love anyone else, Harry.”

“Yeah?” he whispered, fear flashing across his face for just a second before it was gone without a trace at the feel of Georgia’s lips on his again, “I love you, bug.”

“I love you more.”

Georgia was leaving. Her business trip would take her away for almost a week, leaving Harry with a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he’d try to push it. He walked her through the train station, holding her bag tightly in his hand as they strolled hand in hand towards the platform. Harry’s heart raced as he felt her lips on his for the last time in a while, his throat aching as he watched her board the train and walked out of view until she found a seat near the window where she could wave goodbye. He wasn’t used to this, being the one who would wave off their lover, he was always the one who was leaving. But as the train screeched and sped off, leaving Harry alone on the platform staring at the brick wall ahead of him, he couldn’t believe Georgia had done this for him countless times.

He’s gone back home alone, the passenger seat next to him feeling cold and he found himself pouting when his hand was met with the feel of leather instead of the softness of Georgia’s thigh. He’d stayed by the phone most of the evening, watching for any updates that she might send on her journey to a city far away from Harry. He had no idea how she did this every time Harry had to leave for a tour or for a movie project, she’d only been gone for a few hours and he’d found himself walking aimlessly around the house, waiting for a sign that she was okay. It was horrible, the waiting and the anxiousness that came with it all.

By the fourth day, Harry had realized just how much he’d taken Georgia for granted. He missed her like crazy. He missed the way she always curled up next to him in bed, how her hand always found his in the middle of the night and gave it a squeeze to show him she was still there beside him. He missed her soft voice and how it sounded while she was on a work call and Harry was in his office or reading through a script. He missed the way her arms would wrap around him and how she would hide her face in his chest, leaving kisses on his skin until he laughed and peppered her skin with kisses. By the fourth day of Georgia being gone, he realized just how hard it must’ve been to be with him.

On the fifth day, Harry had called her after one too many drinks and told her how he felt. His slurred voice rambled on about how he never realized how unfair he has been to her and how she deserved a better relationship. He told her all about how he’d felt since she been gone and how he couldn’t imagine feeling like this every other month. He’d rambled on for minutes on end, his drunken truths interrupted only by the sniffles he’d get caught up in before returning to his original point. The one that Georgia had been trying to figure out for the past hours since he’s hung up the phone. The one that had left her in her hotel room, wiping away the tears Harry had brought on.

“I’m not good enough for you,” he’d choked out, “I leave and disappear for weeks on end and you just…you just wait for me to get back. Do you wait with the same hole in your chest that I have? Because I’d never wish this on anyone, bug, it’s horrendous.”

It had all happened too fast, the rambling and the tears and hit Georgia’s ears before she even had time to think of a response. It felt like seconds had passed since she’s answered the call, excited to tell Harry all about her advent ours day in a city she’d never been to, only to have her heartbroken. Then, as if some cruel joke was being played on her, time slowed down. Every ring to Harry’s dragged on and on until his voicemail message was heard and the line went dead. She’d spent the rest of her night listening to the droning sound, hoping that eventually Harry would answer and she could calm him down, show him the truth, and tell him that she loved him. But the phone was never picked up and the pit in Georgia’s stomach was filled with anxiety.

Arriving back at the platform where she had last seen Harry, her eyes searched the massive crowd of people, her nerves rose as she walked out of the station alone. Her cab ride back home had been silent, her fingers playing with the necklace around her neck nervously as she watched the familiar streets pass by her window, hoping that when she got home she’d be met with the sight of her lover. It had been two days since the call with Harry. Two days since she’d heard from him or even got a text back from him. She was used to the silence, it was something that happened sometimes when Harry’s job became bust and chaotic and he lost himself in it all. But this time around things were different and Harry had been promised at least a couple of weeks off to relax and regain who he was. He was meant to be at home with the people he loved.

Georgia was met with an empty house, the sound of her bag hitting the floor echoing throughout the large rooms. She’d walked through the whole place, calling our Harry’s name only to be met with more silence. It wasn’t until she walked into the bedroom and saw the small card on her pillow that the fear in her truly rose. She must’ve sat on the bed and read through the damn note a thousand times, her body too in shock to move and too anxious to accept that he was gone.

“It’s better this way, bug. You deserve someone who can truly love you the way you are meant to be loved. All I do is cause you pain, I’m barely here for you and I couldn’t even handle less than a week without you. I’m sorry, I wish things could’ve ended differently. I will always have you on my mind, Georgia. Love Always, Harry.”

Harry’s voicemail message, one Georgia had gotten to memorize by the number of times she’d had to listen to it, hit her hears again. Her hands curled around the note, wrinkling it and ripping the paper on one side. Her tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to steady her voice, her mind running a million miles an hour as she tried her best to keep down a sob.

“You left…y-you just left and didn’t even say goodbye to me. You didn’t even give me a good reason, Harry.” she sniffed, her eyes looking around the room that was filled with them both, “I knew what I was getting myself into when we started this. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and there would be times where I wouldn’t see you for weeks on end. But I also knew that you were everything I wanted.”

Georgia had been warned about Harry when they first started seeing each other. She was told all the rumors about him and plenty of people had tried to scare her away from him and his world. But she knew there was more to him than just a pop star sensation, more to him than the act he put on both off-screen and on. He was kind and gentle and so caring. He was ambitious and inspirational, always wanting the best for himself and those he surrounded himself with. Harry was nothing like what the media portrayed and that had made Georgia fight for them to work.

“I know what your job is like, I knew from the beginning and I stayed, Harry. I stayed because I love you and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater, “So please just…just call me back and we can fix this, yeah? I love you,” she sighed and hesitated for a few seconds before hanging up.

Harry, from his hotel room just a few blocks away, listened to the voicemail for hours before his eyes finally closed and he drifted off to sleep.

And then she ran into her at that damn party.

In the short span of the party, Harry had somehow managed to grab her attention and after another sip of the pink drink, they both found themselves walking off to the garden. She’d walked out first, her eyes meeting his while she passed by, almost as if giving Harry a sign to follow her. He’d taken one last sip of his drink, setting the cup down before he followed after her. She looked beautiful in the soft light of the garden, but then again, she always looked beautiful. It wasn’t until Harry’s eyes met hers, which were dull in comparison to the usual emotions they’d held before, that he realized just how much he had missed her presence.

“How have you been?” Harry asked, breaking the silence between them and instantly hating how her shoulders and jaw tensed, “I…I’m sorry about…”

“About leaving me with just a note and a shitty explanation?” Georgia asked, her eyes staring into Harry’s with a new emotion, anger.

“Georgia I…” Harry started, the lump in his throat growing as she shook her head and sighed.

“No, you had your chance to talk,” she frowned, “You has your chance to talk and call or even just text me, and did you? No! All you did was ignore me for four months and now you won’t stop staring at me at this party and it’s just…”

“I love you,” he blurted out, his eyes wide as he waited for her reaction, “I know I messed up but I love you and I haven’t stopped loving you since you spilled chocolate syrup on me during our first sleepover.”

“You can’t just show up after months and expect me to forgive you. You broke my heart, Harry! You left me and I couldn’t even stop you,” she whispered shakily, her eyes meeting his in the moonlight, “I just…I miss you so much and I should hate you. I should hate your guys but I just can’t.”

They talked more after that, both of them too tired from the stress and heartbreak of the past months to put up much of a fight. They talked until the moon was disappearing on the horizon and the music behind them both dimmed until it was just Harry and Georgia's voice floating up into the sky. They talked about everything, the insecurities they’d both had, the challenging parts of their relationship, and even the terrifying parts. They both moved closer to one another as the night went on, leaning into the warmth they both gave off until they had said everything they needed to say.

“Please just…can we try again?” Harry whispered as his hand found Georgia’s, his eyes meeting hers with a pleasing look, “I want to work this out with you, I want us to work.”

“I never wanted you to leave in the first place, Harry,” Georgia whispered, her forehead leaning against his as they both felt a pressure lift off their shoulders. Both finally feeling a little more like themselves for the first time in months.

Harry's personal life changed a lot after that party. He continued to throw himself into his work, leaving his studio from late nights recording and rushing on to the set of his latest movie project. Starring in movies had always been a dream for Harry, he got to immerse himself into a world and a life he'd never lived. It was so surreal whenever he walked on stage in his costume, it all felt like a dream. But his latest dreams in life include a certain someone by his side. They included Georgia, whose warmth and kindness brought Harry a bigger thrill than any of his projects ever could. The months apart had left both of them searching for one another in an ocean of regrets and words unspoken until that night at the party.

It was hard work, especially when he was writing and recording in whatever spare time he had on days after he was done filming, making time for his relationship with the love of his life was something he’d never take for granted again. He’d move planets for Georgia and he knew that she’d do the same for him. And maybe, just maybe, the ring that had been hiding in Harry’s bag would make an appearance in the coming months, to show his lover that he would always sing with Georgia on his mind.

taglist: @hrrypinks​ @matchacal