#there's a thorn missing from my side. put him back

[nartml]

i miss my little brother

[aeristudios]

For A Good Time Call...

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦��𝐫𝐲: You were just looking for a distraction from your toxic ex. Soonyoung was supposed to be a one-time thing. Then he showed up, showed out, and ruined you for anyone else. ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Soonyoung x reader (mentions of ex!boyfriend Seungcheol) ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff, angst if you squint, friends to lovers, ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft!dom Soonyoung, dirty talk, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), light choking, breast/nipple play, fingering, riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, lots of cursing, spilled feelings, jealousy, mentions of being a sneaky link with Big Sexy (Seungcheol), lots of cursing, pet names, teasing ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.4K ᝰ.ᐟ𝐀𝐍: This is an extension (part 2) to Toxic, but you don't have to read that to understand this story (it just adds more context to things). Thank you to the sweetest woman ever @yoongihan for beta reading this and saving my ass from all of my lovely grammatical errors 💙

Seungcheol: “I’m at the bar. Can I come over?”

You: “No.”

Seungcheol: “Why not?”

Seungcheol: “???”

Seungcheol: “…are you still mad about last time?”

Irritated, you throw your phone onto the couch and turn up the volume on a TV show that you were barely paying attention to. Your phone buzzes incessantly against your leg, and you do your best to ignore it, pressing the buttons on the remote until the sound blares throughout your apartment. Does it work? No. Your phone continues to buzz, but now the vibrations change patterns, which means he is calling you.

“Fuck this.”

You snatch your phone and throw it on the bed, shutting the bedroom door loudly as if you were locking away the big bad wolf who will infiltrate your mind and heart if you let him. Seungcheol is infuriating, a pain in your ass, a thorn in your side and any other euphemism that could describe what he is to you. He pushes your buttons like no one can, and unfortunately, no one else has fucked you better. You hate it.

You wish you could get rid of him, get him out of your system, and be free. If there were an antidote, you would take it; if a spell were to be said, you would recite it more than once. He gets under your skin, molds himself on you, and you can’t break free from him. He’s intoxicating and addictive, and one look in his eyes and you melt like putty. God, you need to get it together.

You haven’t seen him since the house party at Seungkwan’s last month, where you lost your inhibition and let him have you outside against a tree. He said he would text you, but didn’t; it’s what he does. You aren’t a helpless victim in this either; you knew what you were getting into with him while he has a girlfriend. But like a bad habit, you just had to have your fix, damned whatever the consequences would be.

Well, consider yourself rehabbed, because you are not falling for him or his soft lips again.

That month of separation? Pure gold. It’s like the universe slapped you in the face with the truest post-nut clarity. You spent your time apart working and hanging with people who always want to be around you, no matter what. No fights or raw emotions. You realized you deserve better than what Seungcheol has been putting out. It was fun being the sneaky link and having him whenever you wanted, but after a year of back-and-forth, it’s getting tired. You’re sick of being the girl who is always number 2 when he’s bored. You need something new. Fresh. Exciting.

It’s time to cut the cord, and the best way to get over someone is to get underneath someone else, right?

Leaping off the couch, you rush back into your room and retrieve your phone, ignoring the missed notifications from Seungcheol and scrolling through your contacts until you find the person you’re looking for. With a quick tap, you press the dial on his name and put your phone on speaker. It rings for a few seconds until he answers, a backdrop of ambient noise hinting that he might be out and about.

“Hey,��� you say casually, ignoring the flutter of nerves.

“What’s up?” he responds, sounding happy to hear from you.

“Remember, when you said you could treat me better than Cheol could, and to give you a chance?”

He pauses, clearing his throat. The music gets softer, as if he’s gone somewhere quiet.

“Yeah? Why are you bringing it up?”

“Because tonight I want to give you that chance. Come over.”

He pauses again, and loud music resumes, crackling through the speaker, making you wince. You hear shuffling, followed by a door shutting and the ignition starting shortly after.

“Are you sure?”

You bite your lip as you think it through, knowing that once you cross this line, there is no turning back. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers throughout your body. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in an hour.”

You anxiously pace your living room floor, the minutes stretching on as you wait for him to arrive. A part of you feels guilty because you know you are using him. He’s a chill, respectful guy who spilled his confession on you on a drunk night. You could have chosen to leave him alone, done the right thing, sorted out your feelings for Seungcheol, and moved on in a healthy way. But you didn’t, and now here you are.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and you pick it up slowly. The notification flashes, revealing the message: “I’m outside.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, looking at yourself in the mirror and adjusting your simple tank top and shorts outfit. A small, wicked smile creeps onto your face, hinting at nothing but trouble. Anticipation builds as you open the door, revealing your man of the hour with kind eyes and a gorgeous smile.

“Hi, Soonyoung.”

“Hey.”

You step aside, the door creaking as you let him in. A chilly breeze sweeps through, carrying the scent of fresh spring air and the faint trace of cigarette smoke that clings to him. He slips off his shoes, the soft thud against the floor barely audible over the hum of your humidifier. As he strides into your living room, his gaze sweeps over the space, a grin spreading across his face. “You have a cool place.”

“Thanks,” you say, pointing to the couch. “You can sit there if you want.”

He obliges, taking a seat to the right, and you take your usual spot on the left, sitting cross-legged and facing him. A silence stretches between you, the air thick with an unspoken tension, as if it knows what’s coming next.

“I gotta ask,” Soonyoung cuts to the chase. “Why did you really ask me here?”

“You know why.” You give him a pointed look. “I told you I was giving you a chance tonight.”

“Yeah, only because you're mad about Cheol.”

You fold your arms, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find a response. You’re not used to this side of Soonyoung, challenging you and calling you out on your nonsense. He sits there smug, like you’ve been caught in a trap. Dare you say, you kind of like it?

“So what if I’m mad at him? What’s it to you?”

He shakes his head, his fingers tangling in his hair as he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Because I want to know what I am getting into… If this is a one-time thing.”

You watch him move closer to you, touching your knee as his eyes meet yours, steady and searching. “I’m not an idiot, okay? It’s no secret that I like you, and you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called me over here. Why do you keep entertaining him?”

How do you answer that? Is it love? Lust? A mixture of both?

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Old habits, I guess.”

You think about his confession to you six months ago at another party, where he said he always liked you and would give you the attention you deserved.

“I… don’t know Soonyoung,” you hesitated then. “I’m still figuring shit out with Cheol, you know?”

“Y-you don’t have to say anything now,” he stuttered, his nerves clearly getting to him. “Just know if you were my girl, you would always have a smile on your face.”

You were on another break with Seungcheol then, but weren’t in the headspace to think of anyone else. Soonyoung is nice and goofy, the boy next door type that always makes you laugh, but he wasn’t Seungcheol, and you weren’t interested then. Thinking back on it now, maybe that is a good thing. You would’ve broken his heart, and Seungkwan would’ve hated you for it.

“Uh huh,” Soonyoung nods, mulling over your words. “Okay, so you say.”

“Now, let me ask you something,” you charge back, changing your position to sit on your knees. “Why do you like me so much? I’ve always wanted to know.”

Soonyoung studies you momentarily, his facial expression softening as he prepares to lay his heart on the line.

“I’ve liked you since you first walked into Seungkwan’s house at that Lau party he hosted that one time. You are cool, smart as hell and can take a joke, and you are so god damn beautiful.” He pauses, his face full of resentment, before continuing. “I saw you first, and Seungcheol knew that. When we were sitting on the couch talking, I was just like, ‘I really like your vibe.’ I even told him that I wanted to ask you out then. But once I went to the bathroom and came back, you were talking to Seungcheol, and I knew right then and there, he already got you.”

Soonyoung leaves you at a loss for words for the second time tonight. You didn’t know he saw you first, and just thought he was drunk talking, and maybe he would get over it. You wouldn’t expect Seungcheol to mention this, but you can’t help but wonder what your future would’ve been like with Soonyoung instead. It could’ve saved you from a world of fights, frustration, and pain.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” you ask him earnestly, your heart slightly pounding. “I had no idea.”

“What could I say?” Soonyoung responds. “‘Hey, I know you are with Cheol, but I liked you first, and he knew. I figured you weren’t interested.”

You exchange a long look, your thoughts running through your head. “Geez,” you exhale, a small pit forming in your stomach. “I could’ve been interested, had I known.” You move closer to him, searching his eyes for understanding. “I’m not mad at you, Soonie. I just wish I knew. It could’ve made things different for me, you know?”

“I know,” he confesses, taking your hand. “My offer still stands, okay? Give me a chance tonight to make you forget all about Seungcheol, and if it works, maybe we can see how this goes?”

You have always found Soonyoung attractive, but hearing how he speaks about you and how he has pined for you for over a year makes you want him even more.

“I called you over here just for sex, to get over him, and you still want to do this? With me?”

“Like I said, I’m not an idiot.” He chuckles. “But you are finally giving me a chance to prove my worth, and I’m going to take advantage.”

You mull over his words, your lips twisting into a playful grin. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Soonyoung pulls you over to him, carefully placing you on his lap like you were a delicate thing. You’ve never gotten a chance to appreciate his beauty up close, with his bare face, cute nose, and smooth skin. You lock eyes, a shared smile blooming between you, your fingers gently weaving through his hair. An electric tension prickles along your skin, a feeling that feels foreign but somehow exhilarating.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says gently, his eyes peering into your soul.

“Don’t you get all soft on me, Kwon,” you tease, lightly pinching his shoulder.

“I’m only as soft as you let me be,” he quips, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, igniting a flutter in your chest. “You know I am not going to go easy on you, right?”

You smile softly, your noses barely touching each other as you lean closer to him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper.

His lips crash against yours, hunger and earnestness consuming him, and you immediately melt into him. A fire burns inside you, sparked by Soonyoung kissing you, craving to be taken in the ways you truly deserve. You grind slowly against his crotch, a tiny gasp escaping your lips as he places his hands on your hips, catching your rhythm. His eyes never leave yours, watching your face contort into pleasure as the building friction between your shorts and his jeans sends jolts throughout your body, electrifying your senses.

You kiss him again, savoring his soft lips and the taste of peppermint on his tongue. Soft moans leave him as you deepen the kiss, embracing everything he is willing to offer. This is the excitement you've been craving—the thrill of someone new who won't play games or tell lies. Someone unselfish, who kisses you as if you truly matter, and doesn’t hold back.

“How am I doing so far?” he murmurs against your lips.

“You’re doing great, baby.” You plant another kiss on him.

“Baby? Are we on those terms already?”

“Shut up,” you tease him with a wicked smile, slowly taking off your tank top and revealing your breasts.

You’re very proud of your body, and you know you look good, and judging by the way Soonyoung’s biting his lip, he agrees. His hands gracefully grab your breasts, kissing your nipples before sucking on them, his tongue swirling around your hardened buds. He worships you in that moment, murmuring sweet praises of how perfect you are and how much he craves you. A warm sensation stirs in your chest, filling you with a deep sense of fulfillment—a craving that had long gone unfulfilled: to be wanted, deeply and unconditionally.

“Take off your shorts, I want to see you,” Soonyoung breathes, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes full of awe and adoration.

You nod, climbing off his lap and slowly lowering your shorts and panties in one go. He licks his lips as he drinks your body in, like an artist with his muse. He stands, removing his shirt and revealing his sculpted physique and abs that almost make your knees buckle. It feels strange, having these feelings of lust for someone you wouldn’t have thought about besides tonight, but you are glad you made the call.

He pulls you close, his hands grabbing your derriere as he dips for another kiss, this one being deeper, darker, and full of desire that is soul-crushing if you let it. Your hands cling onto him as he lays you back down on the couch, your chest rising and falling as you watch him pull down his jeans, fixated on what’s aching to break free in his boxers.

“Do you want me to do the honors?” You smirk as you reach for him.

“You can do whatever you want, baby,” he whispers.

Baby. Hearing that word come from his lips makes your heart race.

“I’m already doing that.”

Sitting up, you pull down the fabric obscuring him, and what meets your eyes is nothing short of jaw-dropping. This man was bigger than you expected, and your mouth practically floods at the mere thought of having him wrapped in your lips.

“I’ve never seen you this quiet,” he quips, his cock twitching at your touch.

“Whatever.”

You gently grasp it in your hands and give it a sweet kiss, his tip already dripping with precum and smearing all over your lips. Your tongue plays around the tiny veins on his shaft, teasing and exploring every edge. His breath hitches, bringing a smile to your face as you prepare to take him whole.

“Who would’ve known Soonyoung has a pretty dick?” You giggle as you give his tip one last kiss.

His hand rests very lightly on the back of your head as you slowly swallow him. Your mouth salivates as your head bobs back and forth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you enjoy tasting him. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, making a mess on your chest and spilling on your knees. Soonyoung curses, quickening his pace as his hips subtly thrust forward, seeking more of your warmth, your wetness, the sinful glide of your lips down his shaft.

“Shit,” he breathes, voice strained with restraint. “You feel so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

Soonyoung fingers tighten around your throat, grasping it lightly as he fucks your face. Your eyes water as he quickens his pace, his cock hitting the back of your throat effortlessly. Your fingers climb to the back of his legs, bracing yourself for when he eventually cums down your throat. You want it; you can practically imagine it going down your throat.

“Okay. Okay fuck,” he gasps, pulling you off, his cock glistening with your spit. His thumb wipes the slick from your lip before he lifts you effortlessly, laying you back against the cushions. “You keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in your mouth and I don’t wanna waste the first round.”

You giggle breathlessly, heart hammering in your chest as your legs fall open to welcome him. “Who said that’d be a waste?”

He groans, sliding two fingers along your soaked slit before pushing them inside you, curling just right. “God, you’re dripping,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “All this for me?”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “Why don’t you taste me and find out?”

“My pleasure.”

His mouth crashes into yours again, tongue greedy and messy with want. His fingers twist in you slowly, earning shaky moans from your lips as he works you under hooded eyes. His lips travel down your neck to your breasts again, sucking on each one ravenously like he owned them, like they are his and his alone. Your senses are heightened, and you are fully aware of the trail his lips are leaving, soft kisses on your stomach, and finally meeting your center. He increases the pace of his fingers, lifting your legs on his shoulders to see his work of art, your walls contracting around him as you gush on his hand.

“Does that feel good, baby?” His tone is dark, like a switch is off.

“Mmhmm,” you mutter, unable to form a coherent thought.

“You can’t even speak. How cute.”

“Shut up—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, as his mouth sucks on your clit tenderly, sending you through a bottomless well of pleasure. Your hand digs into your couch, a guttural moan echoing off the walls as you ride his fingers, your essence spilling on his digits. He looks at you like he is proud, slowly taking out his fingers and sucking each one.

“You taste better than I imagined.” He licks his lips. “Do you think you can get on top?”

You give him a mischievous grin, patting the couch. “I’m going to change your life, Kwon.”

He eagerly sits down, and you hover over him, your breath shaky as you sink inch by inch. He stretches you in the right way, his hands grabbing your hips like he is anchoring himself, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you take him all in.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head cocks back. “This is better than I imagined.”

You still for a second, overwhelmed and still ripe with sensitivity. Soonyoung’s cock presses deep in you, thick and perfect, and your body trembles as you adjust.

“Are you okay?”

You nod slowly. “I’m more than okay.”

You roll your hips, grinding slowly as you get used to his length. His hands slide down to your ass, guiding you carefully as he talks you through it, his eyes fixated on yours as you dissolve into pleasure. It feels cosmic, like you are on this incredible high from which you don’t want to come down. Soonyoung fucks you with every intention to make you his, and little by little, you are falling under his spell.

“Shit,” you pant, digging your nails into his shoulder. “You’ve been holding back, Soonie.”

You increase your pace, riding him harder, as he thrusts up to meet you halfway. Your couch shakes, banging against the wall, which will surely get some complaints from the neighbors later, but you don’t care. His hands caress your body as he holds you close, thrusting deeper and intensely as if he wants to implant in you, letting the whole world know you are his and his alone.

“Fuck, Soonyoung.”

“You look beautiful.” His eyes are locked where your bodies meet. “Keep riding me like it’s yours.”

‘Like it’s yours,’ those three small words have so much meaning. Soonyoung isn’t just good at this; he is perfect. You kiss him desperately, chasing your high as your impending orgasm breaks free, overflowing and sending you into paradise. You increase your pace, bouncing up and down as you squirt over him, screaming his name over and over.

“Good, baby,” he says with a shaky breath. “Keep cumming for me.”

Your body is on autopilot, unable to stop the pleasure that is erupting from your body as you keep slamming down on him, your bodies covered in sweat and lust. He whispers sweet praises in your ear, kissing you all over until he lets out a low, broken moan, signaling his release.

“Where do you want it?” his voice is desperate.

“Inside!” you cry out, reaching your last climax.

His neck is buried in your neck as he cums deep inside of you, trembling with the force of it. Breathing hard, he raises up and kisses your forehead, holding you close until he is completely spent.

“Wow.” You blow a raspberry. “That was…”

“I know,” he finishes your sentence, barely catching his breath.

He lifts you off of him slowly, his cock sliding out of you with a pop, your pussy dripping with his cum. He notices it comes down your leg and raises a brow, and you roll your eyes, slowly getting off the couch with shaky legs.

You see him in a new light. You would’ve never expected this kind of confidence and aggression from Soonyoung, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“I’m going to shower if you want to join me,” you announce, walking down the hallway.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

You fetch towels for both of you and step into the shower, letting the warm water hit your skin. Soonyoung comes in shortly after, taking your sponge and washing you off with delicacy and care, as if you meant something to him. You kiss him without warning, but he embraces it, stirring a warm feeling in your chest that spreads like wildfire. His arms find their way around you, pulling you in, and everything else around you disappears. He showed up when you needed him, he knew how fucked up you were and wanted you anyway. Maybe this is where you need to be.

“I would like it if you stayed the night,” you said, gazing at him.

“I’d love that,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

After he makes sure you are clean, he helps you dry off, assisting you into an old t-shirt before drying himself off and climbing into bed with you naked. He kisses the back of your neck, wrapping himself around you like a warm blanket, and you fall into a deep sleep.

For the rest of the night, Seungcheol is not on your mind. You dream of Soonyoung instead.

The sunlight peeks through your blinds and across your face, the brightness waking you out of your deep slumber. You still feel Soonyoung’s arms around you, his morning wood pressing hard against your ass, which makes you giggle. Reaching for your phone, you realize it’s not on the dresser, and you sit up slowly, not to wake Soonyoung as you creep out of bed and stalk into your living room. You see your clothes and his scattered all over the floor, the memories of last night flooding your mind and making you smile. Last night was truly one of the best nights of your life, and it was all because of Soonyoung.

You find your phone under your tank top as you pick up the clothes. The battery is surprisingly halfway charged and full of missed calls and texts from Seungcheol.

“Hey, baby.”

You face Soonyoung, with the cutest bed hair and sleepy eyes you have ever seen. It’s not lost on you that he is still naked; the events of last night, of you riding him into oblivion, are still on your mind.

“Hey, there, tiger,” you greet him. “I was just looking for my phone.”

You hold up your phone, and 9:15 a.m. is displayed on your lock screen. He nods slowly, grabbing his boxers and putting them with the rest of his clothes. His eyes tell you he has something on his mind, and you sit on the couch, watching him get dressed.

“I had a great time last night,” you say cautiously.

“I know,” he says cheekily.

You chuckle, your face heating up in embarrassment. “So, um… I would like for this not to be a one-time thing, if you are still up for that.”

He stops in his tracks, looking at you with a tenderness that gives you butterflies. “You mean that?“

“Yes.” You nod, slowly getting off the couch. “I mean that.” You give him a reassuring smile and move to give him a hug. Soonyoung has other plans, pretending to go for a hug and kissing you instead.

“You’re funny,” you giggle, reluctantly stepping away from him.

“I plan to make you laugh more often.” He gives you another hug, a genuine hug, that soothes you and fills you inside. “I’m going to change my clothes and run some errands. I’ll call you later?”

“I’d love that.”

Opening the door, he almost bumps into Seungcheol, whose arm was raised as if he were going to knock on the door. His eyes dart between you and Soonyoung, and you know he quickly understands the situation: he’s been replaced.

“See you later, baby.”

Soonyoung pulls you close and kisses you like he means it, grasping your face with his fingers. It’s possessive, leaving you breathless and on a high, and you have half a mind to drag him back into the house. You know he did that to piss off Seungcheol, but you don’t mind it. Watching him walk to his car and drive off, you return your attention to Cheol, who has an annoyed look on his face.

“So that’s why you didn’t answer your phone,” he huffs.

“Well, yes,” you say nonchalantly. “What do you need?”

“So that’s it? You don’t want me anymore?”

For the first time in a while, you don’t feel anything—not anger, sadness, joy, nothing. It feels like you are finally on the road to moving on and getting him out of your system.

“No, I don’t,” you say, stepping behind your door. “Go back to your girlfriend.”

Shutting the door in his face, you feel relieved that you could get the big bad wolf out of your heart, once and for all. You vibrate with joy on a different frequency, and it’s all thanks to Soonyoung.

taglist: @asasilentreader @shadowkoo @lovetaroandtaemin @gyupremacy @superpietom @vampsol

[gullemec]

Cowboy Clean

A Red Dead Redemption One-Shot

main masterlist ao3

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Summary: Arthur Morgan has been a thorn in your side from the moment you met him. Things come to a head when you find out he's decided to treat himself to a deluxe bath in Valentine.

Warnings: rivals to lovers, lots of bickering/banter, reader gets covered in horse shit lol, jealousy/possessiveness, vaginal fingering, brief hand job, unprotected PIV sex, creampie, fluffy fluff

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.9k

A/N: So uhhhh I did this! I have a bunch of ideas percolating for an Arthur Morgan x reader series but that's a long way off and and I couldn't get this scene out of my head. Enjoy!

You scoop a handful of cold river water to your chest, the sting of it smarting like a snakebite against your already chilled body. It washes away the last traces of lye soap, though you’re not sure what’s worse, the stink of sweat and horse dung, or the way this damn water has you shaking like a leaf. Gooseflesh blooms a constellation across your skin, a shiver coursing down your spine as the current tugs at your ankles. The sun’s trying its best, but it’s still late April, and the wind cuts through the cotton of your wet chemise like it ain’t even there.

You can just about hear Miss Grimshaw’s voice now, all iron and vinegar, barking from the top of the hill the moment you make your way back up to camp. 

“You fixin’ to catch your death out there?” she’ll snap. “Or are you just plain stupid?” 

Probably both, by her standards. Of course, she'd hollered at you just the same when you came slogging into camp earlier, half-covered in horse shit. You reckon she’s gonna have to choose her battles one of these days.

You’d been out hunting with Charles, trying to put some meat on the table for the rest of them sorry bastards, not that anyone seemed to notice, or care. He'd spotted a wild boar off the ridge, and you’d notched your bow in a heartbeat, drawing for a clean shot. But just as you exhaled and your fingers twitched to release the arrow, a damn squirrel went skittering across the trail, spooking your horse.

Freya’s new. Barely saddle-broke and ornery as all hell. You paid too much for her, and you knew it the moment you led her out of that stable in Valentine. But by the time she bucked you off and sent you flying into a heap of her still warm droppings, you were certain of it.

Charles, bless his soul, bit his tongue and helped you to your feet without so much as a snort. The same cannot be said for the rest of the camp. Especially not him .

Arthur Morgan.

That man’s been a burr under your saddle since the day you met, both trying to rob the same stagecoach. 

You remember it like it was yesterday. Your shotgun drawn, face half-shaded by a wide-brimmed hat and red bandana pulled up over your nose, the hooves of your horse kicking up dust as you charged after the coach on the road to Emerald Ranch.

You were closing in when another rider came up fast from behind, his horse just a touch quicker, his draw just a little surer. You glanced over your shoulder and met his eyes. Cold blue, sharp as a whetted blade. You both hesitated, long enough to share a breath and a heartbeat. And then the coachman, scared stiff, dove from his seat and hit the dirt.

You didn’t think, you just moved. Leapt from your horse and landed hard on the driver’s bench, barely a second before the man vaulted up beside you.

You spent the next half-mile bickering at each other something awful, shouting over the clatter of wheels and hooves.

“I saw it first!”

“Hell you did, I pulled on the coachman!”

“Don’t matter none. I got on first!”

By the time you realized your horses were long gone and the stage had made it halfway to Emerald Ranch, it was too late to figure who won. All you knew was that you hated him then. You hate him only a little less now.

Eventually, the two of you reached a compromise, if you could even call it that. Neither of you walked away pleased. You split the money clip down the middle, argued over every last coin. The bag of jewelry you divvied up piece by piece, squinting at each item like it might whisper its value if stared at long enough. You got the short end of the stick with the ammo, but figured it wasn’t worth drawing steel over. Besides, you had your pride, and pride don’t need reloadin’.

By the time you trudged back to the spot outside Valentine where your horses were meant to be waiting, only his remained.

That goddamn, good-for-nothing, swaybacked old Thoroughbred. You could’ve screamed. Might’ve, if you weren’t so damn winded from the ride and the day and the company.

You’d spent the last hour wanting to shove his bandana into his smart mouth and shut him the hell up, but to your surprise, he didn’t ride off and leave you stranded. Could’ve. Should’ve, maybe, if he’d had any sense. But instead, Arthur Morgan looked at you all quiet-like, eyes narrowed against the setting sun, then offered his hand like it weren’t nothing.

"Need a lift?"

You didn’t answer at first. Just stared at him, all suspicious, like maybe this was some elaborate scheme to gloat from a better angle. But he didn’t push. Just waited. Eventually you took his hand, scowling all the while, and he helped you onto the back of the old mount like a gentleman might. You felt ridiculous, perched behind him, clutching his coat like some damsel, your pride hitching in your throat.

“You got someplace to be?” he asked after a while, almost reluctant.

You didn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

“I ride with a gang,” he said. “A group, more like. We move around some. You could stay a day or two, if you wanted. Won’t twist your arm.”

You’d said yes, figuring you’d stay long enough to steal something worth your trouble. Just a few days. A week, tops.

That was months ago.

Arthur Morgan had offered you a lifeline that day. But damn if he wasn’t also a splinter under your nail. 

Maybe it was lingering resentment from your initial meeting, both of you too stubborn to admit who had the better claim. . Maybe it was because Dutch and the others took a liking to you faster than they did him on some days, tossing you jobs that might’ve gone his way. Maybe it was the time you dumped a bucket of freezing creek water on his head after he kept you up all night snoring like a dying grizzly the night before a risky holdup. 

Or maybe it was just the way things always turned to sparks and spitfire when you were in each other’s orbit for more than five minutes.

Dutch called it friendly competition , like that explained anything.

Hosea just shook his head and muttered that y’all were worse than Sadie and Pearson. And considering Sadie once threatened to scalp Pearson with a fish knife, that said plenty.

But the real nail in the coffin came just this morning.

You came riding back into camp, soaked with sweat, your shirt covered in brown stains thanks to Freya bucking you off of her. Your hair was a frizzy mess beneath your hat, and you smelled like the inside of a stable.

You barely had a foot out of the stirrup before you heard him.

Arthur was leaned up against a barrel near the fire, sharpening his knife and grinning like the devil come to dinner.

“Well, I always knew you was full of shit,” he drawled, loud enough to draw half the camp’s attention. “Guess now I know it for sure.”

The laughter that followed echoed like a buckshot.

You were halfway off Freya, shit-streaked and murder-eyed, when Charles stepped in. One arm looped around your middle, lifting you clean off the ground before your knuckles could connect with Arthur’s smug jaw.

“Easy now,” Charles murmured. “Ain’t worth getting blood on your boots.”

You kicked and cursed, and Arthur laughed harder, but you caught the flicker in his eyes when he met yours, something resembling apologetic. Like he knew he’d crossed a line, but couldn’t help stepping over it anyway. Like maybe he liked the look on your face when you were mad, wild-eyed and burning with fire.

You suppose that’s part of the reason you’re down here in this freezing river, scrubbing away the scent of horse and humiliation from your skin, and the memory of his eyes from your mind.

But the water’s cold, the sun’s sinking low, and some things aren’t so easy to scrub out.

Not the dirt.

Not the grudges.

And sure as hell not Arthur Morgan.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Headin’ into Valentine,” Arthur’s voice booms across camp like a gruff church bell, startling you from the cusp of a cat nap. You jerk upright with a grunt, blinking against the brightness bleeding through the canvas of your tent. “Anyone need anythin’?”

You groan and flop back down, curling in tighter against the bedroll. The sun’s baked the canvas just enough to make the little space feel like a warm cocoon, and for a blissful second, you debate pretending you didn’t hear him.

But then, unfortunately, you catch a whiff of yourself.

You wrinkle your nose.

You’d done what you could yesterday. Scrubbed up in the river, fought a losing battle with lye soap and a patch of muddy shoreline. But nature only gets you so far. And you’re starting to smell like Freya after a long ride in the rain.

Valentine has baths. Warm ones. With those fancy, perfumed soaps Twenty-five cents for the kind of luxury that could make a girl feel halfway civilized again. That ain’t pocket change, not when you’d worked damn hard for every dollar you had. But it’s not a crime to treat yourself once in a while, is it?

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you heave a sigh and roll off your bedroll, string of curses muttered under breath as you shove your boots on.

You squint through the midday sun until you spot him, just across the way, pulling a saddle from the side of the wagon that serves as both a wall for his tent and the gang’s general dumping ground. His hat hangs low over his brow, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth like he was born with it there.

“Wait up,” you call, stumbling as your foot catches in the tent flap. “I’m comin’ with ya.”

Arthur doesn’t even turn fully around, just casts a lazy glance over his shoulder and squints. “What business you got in Valentine?”

You roll your eyes and march past him, grabbing Freya’s saddle from where it’s resting near the hitching post. “I could ask you the same, Mr. Morgan.”

“I asked first,” he replies, that damn smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth like it’s got a life of its own.

“If you must know, I’m in dire need of a hot bath.” You toss the saddle onto Freya’s back with a dramatic huff. “Some of us like to smell better than Pearson’s two-day-old possum stew once in a while. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Arthur snorts, adjusting the cinch on his own saddle. “Is that what this is about? You ridin’ all the way into town just to waste money on soap and water?”

You pause to glare at him over Freya’s back. “I ain’t wastin’ it. I’m investin’ in public health.”

“Uh huh.” He squints at you, cocking his head. “Or maybe you’re plannin’ to go courtin’ some poor soul in Valentine. That it?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I ain’t.” You adjust your hat and shoot him a grin that’s all teeth. “Why? You jealous?”

Arthur barks out a laugh, short and sharp. “Of the poor bastard dumb enough to fall for a lady such as yourself?” He pauses. “Assuming I can even call you a lady.”

You haul yourself into the saddle with a grunt, lean forward, and scratch Freya’s ears. “Just for that, Arthur Morgan, I’ll replace your soap with a bar of caked horse shit. See if you even notice the difference.”

He swings up onto his horse with the ease of a man who’s done it a thousand times, shaking his head. “You try that, and I’ll throw you in the river myself. Clothes and all.”

You click your tongue and nudge Freya forward, falling into pace beside him as the two of you ride out of camp. “You’d miss me the moment I was gone,” you say, voice light.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he drawls, but there’s no bite to it. In fact, that shit-eating grin’s been plastered on his face since the moment you came scrambling out of your tent.

You glance sideways at him, watching the way he shakes his head and laughs to himself like he don’t quite know what to make of you half the time. If you had to guess, you might be so bold as to say Arthur Morgan enjoys your company just as much as it irritates him.

And if you had a little whiskey in your belly and the moon was high, you might even admit you feel the same.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The ride into Valentine is as dusty, loud, and as unpleasant as the town itself. Chickens squawk. Mud squelches under wagon wheels. Some poor bastard’s getting screamed at by his wife outside the general store. The whole place smells like manure and moonshine and cheap tobacco.

Arthur reins in his horse outside the hotel and spits into the dirt, scanning the street like he’s already regretting bringing you along.

“Well,” he mutters, climbing down from his saddle. “Here we are. The height of civilization.”

You dismount Freya and toss her reins over the hitching post. “Astute observation, Morgan. Next thing I know, you’ll be makin’ sketches of the saloon piss bucket in that journal of yours.”

He gives you a sidelong look, lip twitching. “Only if you’re the one cleanin’ it out.”

You hum as you dust your trousers off. “Lovely. Maybe I will find someone better suited to my delicate nature while I’m in there.” You gesture toward the hotel. “Someone who smells less like cigarettes and horse sweat.”

Arthur snorts. “Best of luck to you. Now go get your damn bath before you scare the locals off.”

You’re halfway up the hotel steps when you pause, glancing back at him. He’s lighting another cigarette, already looking like he’s halfway to leaving you behind.

“You sure you don’t need a bath yourself?”

“Nah,” he says, taking a drag. “Got a few things to take care of. Heard about a bounty at the Sheriff's. Might visit the gunsmith, maybe the post office.”

You raise a brow. “You writin’ letters now? That’s sweet. Didn’t know you had a pen pal.”

He grins around his cigarette. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You lean one hip against a porch post and shrug, a smug little smile curling your lips. “And yet you keep lettin’ me accompany you places. Kinda gives the impression you enjoy it.”

Arthur flicks his ash into the dirt and shakes his head, chuckling low under his breath. “Get in there, trouble.”

You tip your hat at him and push the door open, letting it swing shut behind you. The wood creaks under your boots as you cross the lobby, already imagining the feel of hot water and real soap, not the lye-smelling, skin-flaying blocks you’ve been stuck with as of late.

Still, as the hotel clerk hands you a key and points you toward the baths, you find yourself glancing back through the dusty window.

Arthur’s still outside. Still watching.

And when he catches you looking, he tips his hat just so.

Damn him.

You disappear down the hall before he can see you smile.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

This bath is worth every damn cent.

You sink into the water with a hiss, the heat prickling at your skin before settling into something delicious and divine. Your head falls back against the smooth curve of the deep tub, and you let your eyes flutter shut. The smell of campfire smoke and horse sweat linger in your hair, but now the sweet scent of rose and jasmine override them.

It’s quiet here. Too quiet, maybe. Without the constant chaos of living in a camp with twenty-odd other people. Without Arthur's gruff drawl, the barbs he throws your way any chance he gets.

You’d never admit it aloud, not even with a pistol to your head, but you’d spent most of the ride into town studying him. The way his shoulders moved when he rode, one arm slung back like second nature. How his forearms flexed when he adjusted the reins. That deep, lazy drawl of his when he leaned forward on his horse, whispering kindnesses to her.

That’s my girl.

It’s infuriating. The way he can be so damn irritating one moment and then have the gall to go and make flutters erupt in your belly like that.

You huff and dunk your head under the water, the heat blooming against your cheeks, muffling everything. When you resurface, hair slicked back and dripping, you reach for the bar of perfumed soap and lather up your arms.

You scrub harder than you need to.

Arthur Morgan. Thorn in your side, pain in your ass. And yet, somehow, unavoidable. Unignorable. He drives you up the wall but half the time you’d rather he pin you against it.

You shake your head, water flinging from your hair in fat droplets, and mutter under your breath. Get a hold of yourself.

Because it’s just a bath. Just a hot soak and some soap. You’re acting like it’s boiling you til you’re soft, all because the man has nice arms and talks to his horse the way you’d like him to talk to you.

You sink a little deeper, until the water brushes your chin.

… Still, you wonder what he’s doing now.

Probably leaned against the saloon bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, charming some barmaid with that half-smile he thinks makes him irresistible. 

That thought shoots irritation through you.

You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You sigh and let yourself sink again, only this time, it’s not to escape the heat. It’s to escape the thought of Arthur Morgan and the way he makes you feel like you're always one step away from either throttling him or kissing him.

The water cools quicker than you’d like, the heat leeching away in slow degrees until you’re forced to admit defeat. With a groan, you climb from the tub, water sluicing off your skin, and wrap yourself in a linen towel that’s coarser than you’d prefer but does the job just fine. You scrub yourself dry, watching the bathwater swirl in lazy circles, now a cloudy shade of brown.

“Twenty-five cents well spent,” you mutter to yourself, smirking as you step back into your clothes. Clean skin under worn fabric is a small luxury in this life, where comforts are few and far between.

You take your time on your way out, fingers trailing along the wood panelling, relishing the way the wooden floor doesn’t kick up dirt beneath your boots like the camp’s packed dirt ground always does. At the front desk, you offer a quiet thank-you to the clerk, prepared to wander the main street of Valentine in search of Arthur, maybe needle him some more if he’s still loitering near the general store.

But then the man behind the desk stops you with a polite smile.

“Oh, if you’re looking for the fella you came in with, he just went in for a bath himself.”

You blink.

And then stare at him like he just told you he had a live rattlesnake wearing a top hat under the desk.

Arthur Morgan? Paying for a hot bath? After all that teasing? All that ribbing about you getting dolled up for some suitor in town? You’d half expected to find him outside rolling around in horse dung just out of spite.

Before you can gather a proper retort, or perhaps go storming down the hallway to wring his smug neck, a soft creak on the stairs turns your head.

She appears like a mirage in the desert.

Rouge on her cheeks, hair curled and piled high, her corset cinched tight enough to give a man ideas. Her chemise hangs off one shoulder, strap slipping in a way that seems both accidental and entirely intentional. She’s soft and sultry, gliding down the stairs like an apparition.

Your mouth goes dry.

The desk clerk straightens a bit, his tone easy. “Hattie. Gentleman in room two. Deluxe.”

She smiles, slow and syrupy, a curl of smoke practically floating in her wake. “Let me have a quick smoke,” she purrs, glancing at you with a wink sharp enough to cut glass. “Then I’ll be right in.”

She turns on her heel and saunters toward the hallway, hips swaying with practiced ease.

You're rooted to the floor.

Your thoughts, however, go flying.

That rotten, no-good, two-faced son of a bitch.

After all that grief, after the wisecracks and smirks, the whole you plannin’ to go courtin’? nonsense, he turns right around and orders himself a deluxe bath with a woman like that waiting on him?

The sheer audacity.

Your ears burn so hot they might catch fire, and you barely register the front desk clerk blinking at you, a little wary now.

“Miss? You all right?”

“No!” you snap, sharper than a pistol crack. “No, I am not .”

And with that, you storm outside, the door slapping shut behind you as you step into the dust and heat of the street, fury rising like smoke from scorched earth.

Arthur Morgan is about to get his damn comeuppance.

You don’t pause to think, don’t stop to weigh propriety or pride. You just follow the scent of tobacco like a bloodhound on the trail, stomping down the narrow alleyway between the hotel and the bank, jaw clenched tight.

And there she is.

Hattie leans against the frame of the hotel’s back door, a cigarette perched daintily between two fingers, lips pursed around it as she puffs. She’s got the look of a woman who’s seen too much and lets even less surprise her, but she startles when she sees you approach..

You draw in a breath, tempering the fury that wants to lash out in all directions. It ain’t her fault she’s the kind of woman men pay to have bathe them.. It ain’t her fault men pay for warmth and softness in bathwater and bed alike. And it sure as hell ain’t her fault that today, of all damn days, Arthur Morgan just so happens to be her customer.

“Hattie,” you say like you’ve known her all your life, your tone smooth as whiskey left too long in the sun. “Enjoyin’ your cigarette?”

She straightens a bit, eyes scanning behind you as though there must be someone else you're talking to.

Then she catches the pistol on your hip, the pants in lieu of a skirt, the storm in your eyes.

“Miss, please,” she says, lifting one hand defensively, “I don’t want no trouble.”

You blink, realizing what she sees. What you must look like right now. Mad enough to spit nails, armed, wild-eyed.

“Oh, Lord no,” you say quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Ain’t here to rob you.”

She softens only a little, still eyeing you like you might go feral at any second. “Alright then… what are you here for?”

You reach into your satchel, fingers brushing over flint, bullets, an old piece of jerky, until you finally fish out your coin purse.

“What’s a deluxe bath cost these days? Extra twenty-five cents?”

“Fifty,” she says, flat as a skillet.

“Good God,” you mutter under your breath, grimacing as you tug the purse open. She shoots you a look. “Not that you ain’t… Not that your services ain’t worth that much.”

She smirks at that.

You hold out a shiny silver dollar, letting it catch the sun between your fingers. “I’ll give you this if you let me go in that room instead. Room two, with the gentleman.”

She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. “You plannin’ on robbin’ him ?”

You sigh. Lord, you almost wish that were the case. Would be easier than the truth.

“Somethin’ like that.”

She takes one long drag, ash glowing bright, and watches you as she exhales slow and thoughtful. Then she leans forward and plucks the coin from your fingers like she’s done it a thousand times before.

“Second door on the right,” she says, tucking the dollar into her bodice. “Don’t make too much noise, ‘less you want the fella at the front desk pokin’ his nose in.”

You nod, one foot already inside the threshold. “You’re a good woman, Hattie.”

“And you’re a strange one,” she calls after you, her chuckle trailing smoke.

You move through the corridor like a ghost, boots soundless on the wood, heart pounding louder than it ought to. The door looms before you, seeming larger now. Steam curls from beneath it, thick with the fragrant smell of rose and jasmine.

You raise your hand to knock, affecting your best, most sultry voice. “Need some help in there?”

A pause.

Then that voice, deep and unmistakably Arthur. “Come in.”

You turn the knob and step inside.

Steam fills the room like fog on a mountain pass, the glow of a small oil lamp, casting everything in a dim amber haze.

Truth be told, you didn’t have much of a plan. You’d stormed in here thinking about tossing a bucket of ice water in the tub or maybe snatching his clothes and leaving him to drip-dry in shame. But those half-formed ideas vanish the second your eyes land on him.

Because there, sunk low in the tub, arms sprawled along either side like a goddamn painting, is Arthur Morgan.

His head is tilted back, hair slicked down, eyes closed. He looks peaceful more serene than you’ve ever seen him. And damn it, he’s glowing . Skin golden and wet, a few scattered droplets clinging to the scruff on his jaw. You stare. You forget to be angry. You forget how to breathe.

Then his eyes open.

He blinks once, slow, and sits up just a bit. Water laps at his chest.

“What in the hell…”

And just like that, the fire under your ass lights right back up.

“Arthur Morgan, you are a damn liar,” you snap, stepping fully into the room and letting the door shut with a click behind you. “Told me you didn’t want a bath, but that ain’t what I’m seein’.”

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What’re you…”

“A deluxe bath, no less! That what brought you to Valentine? Didn’t want me gettin’ one ‘cause you didn’t wanna be caught playin’ cozy with some saloon girl?”

He tuts, jaw already tightening. “Now, how the hell’d you — ”

“I was there , Arthur! Stood right there when she got the order. Gave her a damn dollar to scram.”

That shuts him up. For a beat, anyway. Then his jaw works, and for a second, you think he might smile.

He leans back against the porcelain, eyes tracking over you slow. There’s a glint in them now, not teasing, exactly. It’s warmer than that, more curious. He’s not mad you’re here, just trying to parse why exactly.

“Well,” he says at last, drawl thick with steam, “you gonna stand there accusin’ me, or you plannin’ on helpin’ me wash?”

Your breath catches.

The steam clings to your skin, beads at your collarbone. Your shirt's damp at the edges, clinging to your arms. You should turn around. You should . But your feet don’t move.

But there he is, reclining in the tub like some damn river god, lips parted slightly, water beading along the muscled curve of his shoulders, sea blue eyes fixed on you. There was challenge in his voice, sure, but there was something softer too. 

“I’d like to get my money’s worth,” he says, softer now. “Reckon you would too.”

As if possessed by the steam and the knowledge that he is naked beneath the cloudy water, you cross the room and kneel beside him. 

He shifts, sitting forward just a bit. “Could use a hand with my back.”

And damn you if your heart doesn’t do a little flutter at that.

You reach for the cloth perched on the rim of the tub. Dip it into the water. Your fingers brush the edge of his shoulder as you begin to wash, and you feel it, that sharp little inhale he tries to hide. The tension under his skin.

Warm water runs down the ridges of his back, over scars and sun darkened skin. He exhales, head dropping forward, and for a moment it feels like the world gets very still.

“I didn’t… I didn’t rightly know what I was doin’,” you admit, voice small now, honest. “Just knew I was mad. Came up here all fired up, ready to start somethin’. And then I saw you sittin’ here, lookin’ like that, and…”

You trail off, cloth pausing over his spine.

He turns his head, gaze catching yours. “And?”

You swallow. “And I didn’t want some other woman’s hands on you.”

The shift is instant. His whole expression changes. Softens. Like he’d been waiting for you to say it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Maybe I don’t want that either.”

You scoff, but it comes out breathless. “Right. You paid extra for a deluxe bath ‘cause you didn’t want a woman touchin’ you. Makes perfect sense.”

His gaze flickers away. “I… hurt my back. Been tough reachin’ everything. Wanted to make sure it was done right.”

“Oh.” The irritation slips through your fingers like bathwater.

“Just wanted to smell nice, you know.”

“For who?” you ask, meaning it to sound playful, but it slips out softer than you intended. Barely a tease at all. “Plannin’ on courtin’ someone?”

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t speak for a long beat.

“For you. Wanted to smell nice for you.”

Your chest tightens. A slow, hot ache unfurls deep in your ribs.

You reach out before you even know you’re doing it, brushing damp hair back from his temple. He turns into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“I think about you all the time, Arthur,” you whisper. “More than I ought to.”

His eyes open. He searches your face, like he’s waiting for you to take it back.

But you don’t.

“Join me?” he asks, the words a little rough at the edges.

The hot ache in your ribs dives down to your core. 

You could make a joke. Could throw up that wall again, tease him about not wanting to dirty yourself soaking in his dirty water. But none of that feels right now, not here, not with him looking at you like that. Like you hung the moon.

You rise slowly, taking a step back from the tub. Your hands go to the buttons of your shirt, and though they tremble, you don’t stop. One by one, you undo them, each one a step closer to something you’ve only let yourself imagine in the quiet of night.

Arthur bows his head, eyes shut tight like if he doesn’t look, he can keep control of himself.

“You don’t have to look away,” you say softly. “I… I want you to look.”

His eyes open, and what you see there undoes you. Like he’s looking at something sacred.

When you slip your trousers off, you swear the air gets thicker. Your chemise clings to your skin, damp from the heat, and when you finally slide it off, there’s nothing between you and him but the steamy distance across the floor.

Bare in body and soul.

You step toward the tub. The water laps at your ankles first, hot and silken, and then you ease down slowly, legs folding to the side so you’re facing him. The tub is small, and your knees touch beneath the water. The heat of him seeps into you like sunlight through your canvas tent.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, just watches you. He looks at you like he’s never seen you before. Like he can’t quite believe you’re real. His gaze moves slow, respectful, reverent. 

Then he lifts a hand, wet and trembling, and cups your cheek with such tenderness it breaks something loose inside you. His thumb sweeps across your cheekbone, slow and reverent.

“Let me wash you, too,” he says thickly.

You huff a quiet breath, a smile tugging at your lips. “I just had a bath, Arthur.”

“I know,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Ain’t about gettin’ clean.”

You nod once. “I’m yours.”

You know Arthur is not used to being given things without a fight. Not used to things being his. But you figure you’ve given him enough hell at this point. And maybe you’ve been his this whole time, since the day you laid eyes on him from across that damn stagecoach.

Arthur shifts forward a little, the water sloshing gently around you. His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your jaw, then to your neck. His touch is careful, deliberate, like he’s memorizing you one inch at a time.

“You sure?” he asks all low, like gravel soaked in honey.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” you murmur.

He reaches for the washcloth, soaking it in the warm water and wringing it out slowly. You watch the way his hands move so gently, those rough and capable hands you’ve spent so long admiring wrapped around guns and knives and ropes.The way his chest rises and falls. It stirs something deep and aching in you.

He presses the cloth to your collarbone, dragging it gently across your skin. The heat of it makes you shiver, and his eyes flick to yours, gauging your reaction.

You don’t look away.

He trails the cloth over your shoulder, down the line of your arm, the curve of your elbow. When he reaches your wrist, he turns your hand over and kisses the inside of it, soft and slow.

“I ain’t ever done this before,” he admits. “Not like this. Not slow.”

You let your head tilt, watching him. “Then take your time.”

He does.

The cloth moves down your chest, careful, reverent. He doesn’t rush, not even when your breath hitches as he grazes the side of your breast. His hand lingers, trembling just a little, and his thumb moves over to graze across your nipple. You lean into his touch, soft peak pebbling under the pad of this thumb, and into the space between you that’s growing warmer with every breath.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with wonder. “More than I can make sense of.”

He dips the cloth again and brings it to your thigh, dragging it slowly upward. Your legs shift in the water, parting, an invitation unspoken but clear. His hand stills just above your knee, and he looks up at you, gaze searching.

“Can I?” he asks.

You nod, voice hardly a rasp. “Please.”

He slides the cloth higher, over your thigh, up the tender inside of it, so slow it makes you ache. You can’t hold back the soft sound that slips from your lips, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back, like he’s barely hanging on.

The cloth slips away, forgotten. He drops it over the edge of the tub, and both hands find your waist, drawing you gently toward him. The water shifts around you as you settle into his lap, straddling him, bare skin against bare skin beneath the surface. He’s warm everywhere, solid, a wall of hard-earned corded muscle beneath you.

You feel him, hard and hot beneath the water, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t grind against you or ask for more. He just holds you there, like this is enough. Like you are enough.

Your hands rise to his face, brushing the wet hair back again. “Arthur…”

He leans in, forehead pressing to yours. “You don’t gotta say nothin’. Just want to touch you. Feel you.”

But you want to say it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whisper. “Wanted you. ”

His breath shudders against your mouth, and then he kisses you.

Arthur Morgan is an outlaw, but when he presses his mouth to yours, you are certain he has only ever known tenderness. You are certain you have only ever known this feeling, of his body entangled with yours in a steaming bath, of being lulled into unreality by steam and the way he touches you.

It’s not hurried. It’s not rough. It’s deep, slow, devastating in the way it unravels you. His lips are soft, tasting of heat and longing. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to this moment, like if he lets go, he’ll drown.

You deepen the kiss, one hand slipping to the nape of his neck, the other drifting down, skimming over the swell of his chest. He groans low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, and his mouth moves to your jaw, your throat, kissing a line down to your collarbone. Then he’s pulling a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently before turning to give his attention to the other.

“I could die happy right now,” he breathes against your chest, pressing kisses there.

“You’re not gonna die,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. “Not tonight.”

Arthur’s mouth continues to lather both breasts in open mouthed kisses, warm breath ghosting over your skin, and you arch into him, your body asking for more even before your mind catches up.

He groans again, quiet and rough, as if your reaction undoes him.

One of his hands skims up your back, broad and calloused, fingers spreading wide as he holds you close. The other trails lower, slow and steady beneath the waterline, tracing the curve of your hip. His palm slides over the swell of your thigh, and then inward, the pad of his thumb brushing just shy of where you ache for him most.

You gasp softly, breath hitching against his cheek. He stills, giving you space, giving you the chance to stop this, but you don’t want to stop. You need him to keep going.

You tilt your hips up in answer, pressing closer, your mouth brushing his ear. “Please, Arthur.”

That word, please , shatters whatever restraint he was clinging to.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers tentative at first, but guided by your sharp inhale, your body’s silent instructions. He finds you slick, warm, already undone just from being close to him. His mouth finds yours again as he strokes you, slow and patient, like he’s learning every inch of you. Like he wants to remember exactly how to make you come undone so he can do it again and again.

He gathers your wetness on his thumb and guides it up to your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles. His thick middle finger teases at your entrance, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes as he pushes in. You pout at the intrusion, a low whine escaping your lips. He pumps you a few times before adding another finger, and that’s when he knows he’s hit the sweet spot.

Your head falls to his shoulder, fingers digging into his back as he fucks you on his fingers. The water laps around you both, soft and rhythmic, masking the sounds of your breaths turning ragged, your gasps swallowed into the curve of his neck.

“You feel so good,” he mutters, heavy with awe. “So damn good…”

“Arthur,” you whine into his ear, his name never sounding so pure and yet so filthy. “Don’t stop, please.”

The pressure builds in you quickly, quicker than it ever has when you do this yourself, and in seconds you’re falling over the edge, fingers digging into his back, his name falling from your lips amid a string of muttered curses.

He pulls you back to look at you coming down, admiring his handiwork. He’d look smug if he weren’t so desirous, if his cock wasn’t painfully hard and resting inches from your still fluttering cunt.

Sensing this, you shift in his lap, seeking more of him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. His fingers still at your hip, holding you steady as you guide your hand between your bodies and wrap it around him, thick, hard, pulsing with need.

Arthur’s whole body shudders. His head drops back, jaw tight, like he’s trying to keep from losing it right then and there.

“You’re killin’ me, darlin’,” he rasps.

“Then don’t wait,” you whisper. “I don’t want gentle. I want you. All of you.”

He grits his teeth, his hands finding your waist again, gripping tight as he positions himself. You rise up a little, just enough to line yourself up, and then you sink down, slowly, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you.

A broken sound, your name, slips from his throat, part growl, part prayer, and your head falls forward to rest against his, both of you shivering in the aftermath of your bodies connecting at the root.

He fills you perfectly. The stretch burns deliciously,  your bodies slotting together like they were always meant to. Like maybe this was written somewhere in the stars long before you ever crossed paths.

You begin to move first, slow, rocking your hips gently, savoring every drag of friction, every pulse of pleasure that builds in your core. Arthur’s hands roam everywhere, your back, your hips, your breasts, like he can’t decide where to settle because it’s all too much, too good, too real .

His mouth is everywhere too. Your tits, your neck, your shoulder, the curve of your jaw. He murmurs things you can barely make out between gasps.

So beautiful, can’t believe you’re mine, I got you, I got you.

You find a rhythm, the water sloshing gently with each movement, and your bodies fall into a perfect, desperate cadence, like a prayer whispered back and forth, over and over.

When it starts to crest, when the pressure builds and coils tight, you bury your face in his neck, your moan muffled against his skin.

You feel it again, that pressure in your core, the pull that drags you into ecstasy. His cock seated so deep inside you, his mouth lapping at your sensitive nipples, his fingers exploring every inch of you like he can’t possibly have enough of you flooding all of his senses.

He feels it. Feels the way your walls flutter around him, the way your movements stutter. “That’s it,” he groans, hands gripping your hips harder, driving into you deeper now, chasing the edge right behind you. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

And you do.

It hits like a wave, sharp, sweet, overwhelming. Your body clenches around him, pleasure sparking down your spine as you cry out his name. He follows a breath later, hips jerking, breath  caught in his throat as he spills into you, hands trembling against your skin.

For a long moment, all you can do is breathe. The world narrows to the quiet splash of water and the warm weight of his forehead against yours.

Then Arthur lifts a hand to your face again, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod, a dazed little smile curling your lips. “Better than alright.”

He kisses you, slow and deep again, a promise sealed with steam and sweat.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You both linger in the tub longer than any paying customer probably ought to. 

The water's gone tepid, but neither of you seem to mind. Your fingers trail idle circles across his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing beneath your palm. His nose brushes yours now and again, lazy little kisses shared between soft smiles.

Eventually, you shift, your legs tangling with his as you rest your chin atop his shoulder. “If we go back to camp now,” you murmur, all low and drowsy. “We'll wake everyone up ridin’ in.”

Arthur lets out a soft grunt of agreement, nuzzling into your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll keep ‘em up all night, too.”

You lift your head, feigning a scandalized gasp. “Arthur Morgan!”

“What?” he says, completely unbothered, though the crooked little grin tugging at his mouth gives him away. “You think I’m lettin’ you crawl back into your tent after that?”

You shake your head, hiding your smile. “What’ll the others say?”

“Don’t much care,” he says, sitting up, groaning as he stretches. “Think we earned a real bed tonight, though. What do you think?”

He climbs out first, grabbing a towel and then another, insisting on drying you off himself, all slow and careful. You dress in his flannel shirt draped over your shoulders, the hem brushing your thighs. Your chemise’s neckline peeks out where you didn’t bother buttoning all the way, your hair still dripping down your back..

You slip out into the hall together, Arthur’s hand low on your back, guiding you toward the front desk. The clerk is still there, chewing on a toothpick and flipping lazily through a tattered newspaper. He glances up as you approach and blinks.

Arthur clears his throat. “We’ll take a room. Just for the night.”

The clerk squints. “Weren’t you just in there for the deluxe bath?”

“Was,” Arthur says evenly. “Now I’m payin’ for a bed.”

The man frowns, glancing toward the back. “Where’s Hattie?”

Arthur raises a brow. “Didn’t need her, turns out.”

The clerk looks between the two of you, taking in the damp hair, the loosely buttoned clothes, the unmistakable glow of two people who just did a whole lot more than bathe. His cheeks redden and he hands over the key without a word.

You make it halfway up the stairs before you bite back a grin.

“So,” you murmur, tossing a glance over your shoulder at Arthur. “How’d you enjoy your deluxe bath?”

He smirks, deadpan. “Bit underwhelmin’. Tub was too small. No champagne. Woman wouldn’t stop talkin’.”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his as he catches up to you at the top of the stairs.

“Well at least you didn’t have to share it with a cowboy who dirtied your bathwater” you ask, playing along. “Maybe I’d have preferred your woman, seems awful sweet.”

“She was.” He pauses at the door, unlocking it. “Still talkin’ though.”

You scoff as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. “Ass.”

“Your ass,” he shoots back, swatting at your backside as he ushers you inside.

You don’t even make it under the covers before he’s got you in his arms again, falling back into the mattress with a satisfied grunt, taking you right along with him. You’re laughing as he pins you beneath him, one knee nudging your thigh as he brushes your hair off your face.

His gaze flickers lower, down to your collarbone. He dips his head there, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then inhales deep like he’s savoring you.

“You smell good,” he mutters against your skin.

You giggle. “Better than horse shit?”

He grins into your neck. “Oh, by miles.”

Then he nips playfully at your collarbone. “Still might have to take you back for another bath tomorrow. Just to be sure.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer with a teasing hum. “Well, if that’s the case… I suppose we better go for the deluxe again.”

And from the way he grins down at you, you’re certain he’s already plannin’ on it.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

omgg yess plz part two of the overblotts

Overblot Universe (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1 • 3 • 4 • 5

“I’d be wrong not to speak my peace when both parties so clearly have withstanding debts with me.”

Both of you turn behind to look at the newcomer

Smiling wide he’s holding up a golden glowing contract 

Idia sucks his teeth moving to summon Ortho to attack

The blotted version does attempt to attack the overblotted Azul before being launched back after touching the golden shield that flashes around him

“You seem to have forgotten that my all-powerful contracts don’t allow for your retaliation!”

“Ahhhh!!!”

Overblotted Azul holds the contract up which sends an electric shock to Idia

He’s wailing like a baby completely missing the inky tentacle that grabs you by the waist

Pulling you towards him, you have no choice but to lean against him

“Good to see you, traitorous pearl. We have so much to discuss.”

Two of his tentacles squeeze along your sides as he lets his lips linger near your ear 

“S-s-S–T-O P it!!!” 

The pitiful wail comes from the blotted Idia who is doing his best to fight the constant beam of electrocution

The octopus-mer glares at him before letting that twisted smile spread back on his face

“As  a small currency back to me we’ll be using your technology to take our exit. Us two will be very busy with our own marriage contracts.”

“nO!”

His cries are ignored as you feel the familiar tingle of Idia’s teleportation working

When you are able to open your eyes again you find Azul expertly drifting in clouded water filled with ink

Barely able to make anything out you can begin to recognize the familiar office to the one in the Monstro Lounge

“To think he’d put you in such restraints when he’s bold enough to use his words. He just can’t stand being civil like us, right (Y/n).”

Azul easily slips a slither of his tentacle past your binds

getting ahold of the metal before he parts bending and then breaking it

In no time at all of your metal cuffs are on the floor bent and torn threw floating near your feet

It makes you especially vigilant when you feel the stray but exploring touches of the suctions on his tentacles

“Now that we’re alone, the subject of your contract is well over due.”

“But I haven’t signed anything with you.”

“I took the liberty of doing everything for you, I just need a bit more confirmation.”

You begin to struggle when you feel your arms bein pulled in the direction of a golden contract that’s still being written by a quill that writes on it’s own

“All that’s left to seal our union will be these special pearls of mine. Something I’ve crafted from the moment you sent me to this dystopian wasteland.”

Shivers go down your back at the further distortion in his voice

Only able to cowe away as his tentacles bring you closer to his string of pearls that have a similar golden glow

Looking at the contract in the corner you can’t help but tremble in fear

it’s much longer than a simple paper and the quill is writing even faster now 

Nonetheless you are coming close to the smiling overblot of Azul with no signs of stopping

Until he wheezes and falls over

His tentacles loosen allowing you to wiggle free

The golden contract stops crumpling in on itself and the quill blips away

You also begin to cough as something dark wisps in the water-like-space around you 

You fall over as well attempting to keep your eyes open as long as you can before seeing a silhouette reaching out to you

“You have been a thorn in my side for far too long.”

Hearing the twisted voice above you almost doesn’t make you want to open your eyes

But the nudging of something at your lips makes you snap your eyes open

It’s an overblotted Vil glaring regally at you as he continues to urge some inky substance into your mouth 

Turning your head you find it weighs so much heavier than your used to 

The same could be said for your for your arms 

Looking down finding jewels tied around the arms of a chair

More accurately a throne

Looking confused at the overblotted Vil silently asking the question you had

“Do not be so cold. Your queen only wishes to ease the pain.”

“W-what pain?”

“Do not mumble. Those meant for the mirror should never mumble.”

You only tilted your head in confusion as he backed a bit away from you

Motioning his hand toward a silver mirror similar to the one back home

Holding his hand out a black and purple shine made the mirror’s black center begin to twist and turn like ink being dipped into

Before it can do anything overblotted Vil’s hands hold your face 

Tensing as if decided to prick his metal claws into your skin and caressing them with fondness

Your own eyes meeting stormy purples before your lips are captured by black lips

The kiss is incredibly deep and purposeful

As though it was practiced a thousand times before

When he did pull away you faintly taste something unknown down your throat and the strength leaving your body like oxygen

“We both will have to wait until after the battle. Any good Queen knows their King is their most valuable asset.”

Gaining your bearings you try to speak only to feel your voice die in your throat as something cools over your skin

Looking down the ink crawling up your skin is reaching from the mirror 

The ink is cool and you can feel it pulling you from the throne you were on the binds snapping 

You begin to scream as you feel an uncomfortable tug at your heart 

You barely register the hands cupping the back of your head and the pinprick of another kiss on your forehead 

“Hush hush. Your time in the mirror will be short, your Queen plans to make quick work of all those…pests.”

Relentinig to the pull you stopped fighting the pulling ink 

Curling up in the somehow not so wet expanse of the mirror you barely caught the possessive smile of the over blotted Vil as he adjusted the mirror to stand in some unknown room. 

“Sleep well.”

You do

It feels nice to release your body of the tense feeling of constantly being alert

You blame whatever Vil had given you

Dreaming vaguely of what his plans would be when he returned

The crown still on your head might have been the beginning of what they were

No matter 

All that you could do was rest

And sleep….

And stay….

“Do not tell me? This is where you have been hiding?”

“I told you he’d do something like this.”

“Well Viper. A deals a deal. Shall we take them home?”

Part 3

[delespresso]

WINNER TAKES IT ALL ━━ Fiyero x fem!reader

author's note; my only knowledge of wicked is from the movie, so that's what this is based on lol. i unfortunately do not live in a place where we have broadway/west end things (very sad coz i love musicals deeply) ps; not proofread!

prompt; “If I beat you, you have to kiss me” “That’s- wait, what?”

summary; weekend games were normal in shiz, but fiyero has a different idea of a game when it comes to the girl who caught his eye

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Fiyero Tigelaar was used to charming the pants or skirt of anyone. He had people eating out the palm of his hand before he even said a word.

Imagine the slap in the face he received when she didn't even bat an eye at him. If anything, she always seemed annoyed whenever he was even mentioned or within proximity.

So he did what any other person would do — he kept pestering her. He was quick to become a thorn in her side and constantly shadowing her and showing up wherever she went. It came to a point where she was sure he was trying to be her extra limb.

During the weekend games, where everyone at Shiz gathered either in the courtyard, gardens or open fields depending on the game they wanted to play, he was even more incessant.

"Have you no one else to annoy?" she questioned as he stood beside her while they were playing a game of croquet.

Fiyero was leaning on his mallet, letting it rest on the grass as he gave her his typical nonchalant smile.

"None as entertaining as you, I find it stimulating," he replied.

She glanced up at him, the look on her face showing clear annoyance. Why was he choosing her to annoy, of all people? She was just a girl trying to surf through her university life, get good grades and have a bit of healthy fun on the side.

Without a certain winkie prince ruffling her feathers every other second.

"Its unbecoming of a fine lady to frown every moment of the day," he quipped.

She huffed out a chuckle, walking over with her own mallet in hand. She shifted to aim properly, before giving a gentle nudge to the ball that ended up right through a wicket.

Fiyero let out a low whistle, as if he was so impressed.

"Not bad," he hummed.

"You know, your praise isn't very stimulating," she quipped.

That made him smirk, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. She regretted her comment immediately but she didn't back down either.

"I'm sure we can find something that works," he retorted.

"You make me want to hurl," she replied.

"Ouch," Fiyero pouted, putting a hand to his heart. "You wound me, darling."

She imitated his pout, before turning away with a roll of her eyes. It felt like every little movement she made was being tailed by him. Their game only got more intense as it went on. Even the other players were a little concerned at how competitive they were.

The constant back and forth jabs, the heckling in hopes the other would miss their shots. It was a never ending loop.

It was the last round by now. Fiyero knew he was on the brink of losing — he was too easily distracted by her earlier. Now she was about to take the last shot, and if she made it then she'd most definitely come on top.

Now that couldn't happen. Not on his watch.

He walked around the field, going over to her side as she lined up her shot. He waited, watching the way her forehead creased slightly as she focused, the subtle pout on her lips.

Oh, her lips.

Then he had a cheeky little idea. With a finger rubbing his chin, he leaned in slightly closer just before she'd hit the ball.

"If I beat you, you have to kiss me."

His whisper right by her ear had warm breath fanning her skin. That was enough to send a random, odd shiver down her spine. Then his words registered just as she took the shot.

"That's— wait, what?"

She was knocked way off balance to the point her ball went completely south from the wicket. Nowhere close to how her shots had been so perfect before this.

Her jaw fell slack as she looked at the ball. Especially the distance between it and the wicket.

"Well, seems to me you're beat, darling," Fiyero mused.

She was still completely stunned by the fact. Especially considering she was always good at croquet — it was practically her game for crying out loud. In comes this stupid little prince charming knocking her off her game with a simple bet that wasn't even agreed upon.

Fiyero found it all completely amusing. Especially how flustered she was by a few simple words. He was definitely taking note of it.

"So?" he hummed, his body tilting to the side to be closer to her.

She turned her head, her eyes narrowed in a glare as she looked up at him. She wanted to smack that smug, cheeky look off his face with her mallet.

"No," she said simply.

She left the mallet in the provided space, trudging off the field and away from him. Hopefully for a really long time. He called out for her, unable to help the laugh that left him as she practically ran away at the mere idea of kissing him.

"Adorable," he mused to himself.

If Fiyero's life mission was to pester her, hers was to avoid him. She'd managed it for two solid days now. In and out of classes at the speed of light, no more lingering in the library unless she desperately needed a certain book and certainly no more courtyard homework.

Even her roommate was getting concerned by her behaviour, but she shrugged it off as her not wanting to be outside in public.

At some point it got stifling though, so she left the dorms at night. It was quite late and she wanted to go on a walk. So she went out to the gardens, past curfew. It was only for a few minutes anyway — she didn't see any harm done.

Until of course, someone else was already there. In her favourite spot. Playing with a stray puppy.

She couldn't avoid him for that long, clearly. As she attempted an escape, Fiyero looked up — their eyes meeting. And then came his cheeky little smile again. She was suddenly glad it was dark out, so he couldn't see her fully.

“And what's a good girl like you doing loitering past curfew?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, deciding to just go with it. She stepped a little closer — for the fresh air. Totally nothing to do with him.

“Can't sleep,” she shrugged, her arms folded as she looked down at the puppy.

Bending down, she reached her palms out. The little thing was quick to jump and put its paws on her hand, licking at her skin. A smile pulled on her lips as she entertained the puppy.

“You've been avoiding me.”

“You've been pestering me.”

Fiyero chuckled at her quick retort, shaking his head as he sat on the grass.

“Do you always have an answer for everything?” he questioned.

“Why do you think I read?” she quipped. “I understand the concept is foreign to you, seeing as you can't read.”

“Ah ah,” he clicked his tongue. “I can read perfectly well, princess. I simply choose not to tire my brain.”

“So you choose to tire your tongue by vexing me with every word that comes out of your smart mouth?”

He grinned — two days of nothing and now he was getting quite his fill of fun.

“You just called me smart,” he mused.

“Is that all you heard?” she scoffed.

“Selective hearing. I choose not to invite negativity and stress,” he shrugged with a cheeky smile.

The chuckle that left her was a welcomed one. He liked that, the way she laughed even if they were arguing.

“Why don't you like me?”

The question left him before he even thought about it. Then again, he wasn't really known for thinking, was he?

She paused from petting the puppy, turning her head to him instead. Her head tilted, before she moved to sit on the grass properly as well.

“I never really said that,” she said.

“You've implied it.”

“Oh, so you do pick up on context clues?”

He laughed then, unable to help the way her words amused him a little too much. He was always upbeat, sure, but she seemed to make him smile a little more than usual. Even now — their smiles were matching.

“I don't not like you,” she eventually corrected. “I just find my focus elsewhere.”

His brows raised as he leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he watched her. Not the way she was playing with the dog, or their surroundings. He was just looking at her face in the dim light.

“So you do like me?” he asked.

“I tolerate you.”

“Already an upgrade,” he hummed. “Just tolerate?”

“Don't push it,” she warned light-heartedly.

The sound of their chuckles were the only thing reverberating in the quiet garden, as well as the dog rolling around on the grass at her affections. They sat there for a long while, maybe an hour or so. Until eventually they both got up to get back to their dorms.

“You still owe me,” he said on their walk back.

Considering they'd both snuck out past curfew, they were rather casually strolling back to the dormitories. Her brows furrowed faintly as she looked up at him, still falling in step beside him.

“I beat you,” he reminded.

Her brows immediately relaxed as she shot him another look. Except this time it wasn't annoyed or exasperated, even if she tried. It was softer, maybe a little more amused.

He walked her to the stairs of her block, lingering for a moment. As she took a step upwards, she paused. Fiyero waited with a raised brow when she turned back.

Then she leaned down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Now we're even.”

Safe to say, Fiyero had sweet dreams that night onwards — especially when the daily pestering started to receive warm welcomes.

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[menagerofmischief]

shrimp cocktail, cold appetizer, lobster, coca-cola, yes dessert, served by oscar piastri

Dia's Diner Menu

shrimp cocktail rivals to lovers cold appetizer rough sex lobster "I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy" coca-cola somnophillia dessert aftercare

Oscar Piastri x Ferrari!driver!reader

TW: one bed trope, unprotected sex (wrap you willy please), sleep dry humping

WC: 2k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this one a lot. Also I wanted to say I'm so thankful to all of you that sent requests and that I can't wait to write all of them but you'll maybe have to be patient with me because I'm a student and am pretty busy with school. I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one.

Some bigger force, God or karma or fate or whatever else there is, was definitely out to get me. Because this had to be the worst fucking night of my life. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.

Why was this the worst night of my life?

We just made it to Singapore for the upcoming Grand Prix and went straight to our hotel. The whole grid was staying at the same place since it made things more convenient. I go up to the reception to check in and get the key to my room, all but ready to collapse into the mattress and sleep the jet lag off. 

“I’m so sorry Miss,” the receptionist says, tapping her fingers against the keyboard, glancing up at me every few seconds. Finally she looks up, her expression apologetic. “It seems there was a mistake with the booking and we double booked your room.”

I fight off the urge to groan and roll my eyes, instead plastering a smile on my face. “It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal. Just put me in whatever room is available.”

She makes a face, looking down at the computer again and then returning her gaze to mine. “I really am sorry but there are no other rooms available right now.”

Now I really did groan. “Fantastic. Can I know who the other person occupying the room will be?”

Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, my worst nightmare in human form came up to the desk, standing right next to me. “Hello. I’m here to check in - it’s under Oscar Piastri.”

The woman - I finally glanced at her name tag, seeing her name was Alice - looked between us, then down at the computer before looking at us again. “Sir, as I was just explaining to the lady here, the hotel double booked your room by accident.”

“It’s fine just put me in a -”

“There’s no available rooms.” I cut him off. “Just the one.”

Oscar looked at me, narrowing his eyes. McLaren’s golden boy, affectionately nicknamed ‘the polite cat’ by the fans was the biggest thorn in my side for a long while now. Everything started back in F2 with our on track rivalry which grew with each race. Then I signed into F1, fulfilling my childhood dreams of racing in red and thought I escaped him. I thought too soon apparently because after my announcement post, his followed soon and I was once again back on track with him.

Did I have a reason to hate him? Absolutely! Was it awfully petty and possibly over-dramatic? Very likely. It was my first race in F2, I was about to finish P2 it was amazing. Then he crashed into me and drove us both into the wall, causing us both to DNF and lose out on a podium.

We have hated each other ever since.

“It’s okay - we’ll share.” Oscar’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, quickly turning my head to look at him.

“What!?”

Oscar took the key from Alice and dangled it in front of me, a smirk on his face. “I said we’re gonna be bunking.” He pulled the handle of his suitcase, “Come on then, Y/n”

✿ ✿ ✿

“You stay on your side of the room,” I said, putting the chair in the middle of the room to make it a half marker. “And I’ll stay on mine.” The one queen size bed would definitely be a problem as well, but one I would mention later.

“And how are you gonna go the bathroom since it’s on my side?” He asked, his voice holding a teasing tone.

“Bathroom if free ground, hallway too” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest.

Oscar’s gaze dropped down, stayed for a few seconds and then his eyes met mine again. He hummed, “And if I wanna open the window then what? Since it’s on your side.”

“Don’t act smart,” I told him. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You wound me!” He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Shame it’s not fatal.”

✿ ✿ ✿

This was definitely the weirdest night of my life.

With only one bed in the room, no couch and neither of us willing to put our body in uncomfortable positions sleeping on the chair or on the floor, night before practice - Oscar and I made an agreement to share the bed.

One of the extra blankets from the closet was bunched up and put down the middle of the bed separating the two us. Not that it served much purpose considering that it was kicked down and off the bed while we were sleeping.

I woke up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the dark and then I felt it. The slow, yet desperately feral rolls, the pressure and the pleasure. I had to press a hand against my mouth to stop myself from moaning, taking in deep harsh breaths through my nose.

I came to a realization about three things, so goes:

Oscar had moved a bigger part of his body onto my side of the bed.

He had pulled me close and caged me in his arms sometimes during the night.

He was grinding his very much hard cock into me -  in his sleep.

My cheeks were on fire and it felt like the rest of my body was too. The pajamas, which I purposely picked out because of how light they were, felt suffocating now.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done, my body moving on its own. One leg pushing slightly forward, opening just enough space for Oscar’s hips to chase mine and my ass slowly barely grinding back into him.

I was enjoying this much more than I should have and it was wrong. God, it was so wrong. But when his erection was rubbing so perfectly against me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I was wet, I knew I was. I could feel how soaked my panties had gotten and the uncomfortable feel of my slick underwear did not escape me. As the pressure increased I couldn’t help but let out a moan.

The noise felt deafening in the silent room and my eyes widened. Oscar’s body stilled and my breath caught in my throat, the dread of having woken him with my moans taking over me.

A moment passed, two moments passed. Then Oscar’s hands tightened around my body, pulling me even closer to him, my ass pressed just against the outline of his dick. One of his hands moved down my stomach, dipping into the waistband of my sleeping shorts and going straight down into my panties.

He ran a finger through my folds, coating it in my slick and it took everything in me not to moan. “You’re fucking dripping,” his voice in my ear made me freeze. Awake afterall. “This wet from me humping you? And here I thought you hated me.”

The pad of his finger touched my clit, a gasp falling from my lips at the pleasurable feeling. “Did you enjoy me rutting into you while I was sleeping, you dirty dirty girl?” He added more pressure, rubbing circles on my clit and this time I didn’t hold my moans back. “Woke up halfway through, when you started grinding your ass on me like a bitch in heat. You seemed so into it, I thought I’d just keep going.”

“Wasn’t,” I whispered.

“What was that?” He growled into my ear.

“Wasn’t grinding on you,” I said, through gritted teeth.

His fingers pinched my clit and my whole body surged forward, mouth falling open to let out a loud moan. “Don’t lie,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, you will.”

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my panties, making me whine at the loss of friction on my clit. His chuckle vibrated through the room. He got up onto his knees on the bed, arms coming forward to grab my shoulders, and pulled me roughly so I was laying on my back.

I couldn’t help but look at him above me. His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown wide and cheeks red. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, he looked absolutely ethereal. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, fingers hooking into the waistband of my sleeping shorts.

I held his gaze, a shaky breath falling from my mouth. “Don’t stop.”

In one move he pulled down both my shorts and my panties, throwing them behind him without a care. Then he took off his own shorts, followed by his boxers - that ended up being thrown somewhere too. He pulled me up enough to take my top off, and then pushed me down again, leaving me completely bare. 

Oscar leaned over me, his mouth drawn in a smirk, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me not to kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” I whispered. He didn’t waste a second, as soon as the words were out of my mouth he was surging forward, his lips pressing harshly against mine, tongue pushing into my mouth. He pulled slightly back, my lip caught before his teeth and he gently bit down, making me whine into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” I panted into his mouth. “Please just -”

I didn’t get to finish what I was saying as he pushed himself into me fully in one go, making me scream. His hand pressed against my mouth, muffling the noises I was making. “Do you want to wake the whole hotel up?” He asked as he began thrusting, pulling himself out until only the tic was still in me and then forcefully pushing back in again. “Some people came here to sleep, not to listen to you moaning like a whore on my cock.”

His other hand went between us to rub my clit. I was practically sobbing as he worked his fingers in fast circles around my clit while roughly thrusting into me. My vision was blurred with tears that were spilling from the corners on my eyes.

Oscar’s hand moved only a little, leaving room for me to speak but close enough for my lips to brush against his palm with each word. “Cum,” I babbled. “Gonna cum! Oscar, please!”

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Gonna cum for me like a good little slut? Go on then - cum”

I came with a moan, wrapping my legs around his waist and caging him in. Oscar fucked me trough my orgasm, his own following. He twitched inside of me before cumming, painting my walls and making me whine at how full I felt.

He pulled out of me slowly and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. After a moment he returned with a wet, probably warm, towel in his hands. He kneeled on the bed and gently spread my legs with his hands.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned. “I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy.” His fingers dipped to collect some of his cum which had spilled out of me and was slowly dripping towards my ass, and pushed it back into me, causing me to gasp.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead and somehow my cheeks burned ever hotter. After he gently cleaned me up and terrorized me to drink water, he laid down in bed next to me and pulled my body into his, arms wrapping around me.

“Are you finally going to let me take you out to dinner?” He asked, his voice husky and breath hot against the side of my face.

I hummed, my eyes barely open and already feeling sleepy. “Don’t crash into me while I’m winning on Sunday and we’ll see.”

“That was one time!”

I chuckled, placing my hands over his hand on my stomach. “Yeah, I’ll let you take me out to dinner.”

Believe it or not this might have actually turned out to be one of the best nights of my life.

[viaviavie]

SEEKING DREAMLIGHT | STONE OF FRIENDSHIP | 1

in which you return to twisted wonderland. do you recall the first gift you were given when you came to this place years ago? you were all alone then, with no one to run and turn to. by the end of your adventure, you were surrounded with so many gifts? can you tell me who the first ones were? your beloved house of cards; they welcome you once more.

SUMMARY: based on disney’s dreamlight valley. years after the ramshackle prefect had left twisted wonderland, former students suddenly find themselves back in night raven college with missing memories and dreams of a magicless student they were supposed to know. an older prefect finally makes a return to a shell of the fantasy you once lived, falling in love once more with what was forgotten.

FEATURING: heartslabyul

NOTES: rather than putting everything in one sitting, i have made a strategic solution to split up the story into even more sections.

[ INDEX ] [ PREVIOUS ] [ NEXT ]

Strong, hardened muscle was what enveloped your form, followed by the weight that nearly toppled you down on the balcony. Deuce never wasted a second contemplating your existence when he ran to the top of the stairway to grab your shoulders. He has grown much bigger now, and so have you. In spite of all the years that had passed since your initial disappearance, Deuce discards all unfamiliarity as he crushes you against his chest. Maybe it was the hopelessness of this place that drove him to hold you, washed away by the pure joy of finding what has been lost. "It's been so long," He whispers, afraid that you would disappear into dust if he dared to let go. "I'm really happy to see you, Prefect." 

And Ace stares from a distance, almost hesitant to even affirm himself that you were real. The large direbeast trots up the stairway, but the redhead remains at the bottom. Unbeknownst to you, who had been so engrossed into your happy reunion, he clenches his teeth and grinds down with such force that his jaw has begun to ache. 

"I missed you too, Deuce." You tell the taller boy— man, taking the time to acknowledge how much taller had gotten. 

Deuce pauses, face freezing once he took notice of what little distance was shared between you both. His fingers hesitantly loosened themselves on your shoulders, and he pulled back. That hopeful expression on his features never wavers, and he finally lets out a sigh of relief. You have not disappeared at all. 

Before he could even utter a word, Ace cut him off as he climbed the stairway. "You look well, Prefect." You finally take a good look at the redhead who still donned that heart on his eye. Deuce swallows to himself, stealing your attention once more while he rubbed the back of his neck with sheer embarrassment. "Sorry, we're just... so surprised to see you again." He says in a quieter tone now, shifting to the side as Ace stands before you. 

His expression is cold, unreadable if anything. You cannot help but find yourself unable to meet his eyes as he stares. "Both of you look so grown up." You breathed out. Ace says nothing, and it forces Deuce to speak in his place. "I guess we did. You look different too, Prefect." There is a gentleness in Deuce’s tone, something that has not changed in the years that came to pass. And yet, Ace continues to unnerve you with the way he glares at you subtly. You do not understand.

There was no time to dwell on nostalgia or the mysteries of the heart, however.

Clearing your throat, you make a slight gesture to the thorns obscuring the windows. "Do you know what happened here?" You asked them. Ace shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets with indifference. "No. One day, I'm going about my business and suddenly, I couldn't remember a damn thing before I woke up here in the dorm." Deuce nodded his head, eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Yeah, the same thing happened to me. We both woke up in Ramshackle together." Deuce continues as he walked toward the thorns, reaching out a gloved hand across the window. With a tight grip, he attempts to break away the plant with his bare hand, but to no avail. "We've been stuck out here on campus ever since. The exit is completely covered with thorns, and our magic is useless against them." 

You grimace, crossing your arms until your eyes flicker across the familiar checkered pattern across their clothes. It suddenly dawns on you as you glance down at your own attire; the Ramshackle dorm uniform that you do not recall wearing. Heartslabyul, the name is whispered into your ears as you come to the realization that there were five of them, not two. "Is it just the two of you here?" Much to your lock, Deuce grunts in disagreement. 

"I don't think so. We have explored as much as we can, but plenty of areas are barred off by either thorns or locks.” Your interest is piqued at the mention of ‘locks’, and Ace knows it by the way you look up at them with intent. Skully grins in the shadows as Grim pounces onto the railings, eager to move.

“Where?”

There was once a point in time where Ace and Deuce were at their most suffocating. One may never find the Prefect truly alone, not when the two Heartslabyul students were often at your side like two moving pillars. Some things never change, you think to yourself as two large backs obscure your view as your party walks down the long dark hallway of the campus building. Skully is not too far behind, stalking quietly with that excited grin of his. His presence has been questioned, but Skully insists that he only wishes to accompany and aid your quest to escape. Considering that he has been nothing but helpful in a world surrounded by thorns and blot, there was no room for complaint.

You remember this space even better now as Deuce holds up an old oil lantern in his hand. It was the very place you awoke in, your opened coffin undisturbed. “You woke up here? In the Room of Mirrors?” Deuce asks you, replied by Grim’s yowl. 

“I found the Prefect here, just the Prefect.” 

“We’re here.” Wading in the darkness, you found yourself crashing into Ace’s back. Followed by a grunt emitted from his chest, you can see the way he scowls at you. Before you can even mutter an apology, the redhead cuts you off as he moves to the side.

A red glow obscures your vision, the light coming from the mirror’s warped reflection. You recall now; it is the Mirror to Heartslabyul.

The mirror is covered with thorns upon thorns that had ensnared it, threatening to prick all those that attempt to untangle their way through. However, at the center of such greenery, was a metal padlock. 

Your fingers grasp the metal key in your pocket, itching to solve this mystery as you used to many years ago. 

"Skully, what do you think?" You murmured. Still holding that unsettling smile on his face, the tall man stretches himself forward, peering at the padlock. Ever so eager, he reaches a gloved hand out to touch it, but the magic oozing from the lock only serves to burn him with the slightest brush. Skully does not let weakness show as he pulls back, gently resting his palms over your shoulders and bending down to reach your ears. "Every lock has a key somewhere, my dear! Do you perhaps have its partner?"

They all stare at you as you fish a metal key from your pocket. "I have this." Your excitement is dampened by the way Ace narrows his eyes at you, stepping into your space as if confronting you. "Where did you find it? Deuce and I spent hours searching for a key." There is a certain poison on his tongue that makes you frown, but you cannot tell if that has always been a part of his personality anymore. Your gaze shifts down onto the key, unable to continue meeting his scarlet eyes. "I'm not sure. I woke up with it in my possession when Grim found me in my coffin." 

Thankfully, Deuce steps in and pats your shoulder with reassurance. "Let's give it a shot, Prefect!" A grin works its way up your face as Deuce cracks his knuckles with that determined grin on his face, a remnant of an old habit from the past. Ace averts his eyes, arms crossed with forced indifference as you approach the glowing mirror. Perhaps it was confidence or a sort of arrogance that fuels your bravery, but the key glows red in your hand as you come closer and closer, slipping it into the hole.

And with a successful twist, the red glow fades into white. 

Thorns had begun to shift, slowly wriggling and dancing onto the back of the mirror until they were no longer. The padlock, itself, vanishes into the light before you and now, the mirror is open for passage. 

A heavy weight has suddenly been pushed onto your back, and you could only balance yourself once more as Grim’s furry ear brushes against your cheek. “Henchman, it worked!” He grins excitedly, followed by sounds of victory coming from Deuce. Ace is eerily silent, his expression bored and fixed. He ignores your depleted expression once you look back at him, even making his way past you without concern. 

“I’ll go in first. If I don’t come out, then you can assume it’s okay to go through.” Ace grunted, only sparing a glance at a conflicted Deuce who nodded in agreement. You never get a chance to protest for his safety as he slips through the mirror hastily. His friend could only sigh, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about Ace…” Deuce sighed, grimacing as he looked at the mirror. “He’ll come around.” Words are lost on your tongue, simmering in your own defeat. You cannot exactly pinpoint what you had done wrong to make Ace act so cold, not when you had barely reunited with him only an hour ago. Such lamentations are lost on you, however, as Grim huffs to himself. “I’m going in next!” He yells as he pounces from your shoulder into the mirror. 

Deuce readies you, holding onto your arm. He glances at you for permission, and you take a moment to look back at Skully who seemed to be too engrossed with staring at the other thorn-riddled mirrors in the room. "Are you coming, Skully?" You called out. The tall man looks back at you, standing straight before lowering his torso into a bow. "It'd be best if I stayed out here, my dear." He crooned with that fixated smile on his face. "You never know if you'll need someone to fetch you from the outside." However he will know when to fetch you, you do not know. If Skully was able to protect you once, he can surely protect himself too. 

With a wave, you nod back at Deuce who grins at you. His hand grips onto yours firmly as both of you take a step through the mirror, obscured in the light. Skully is smiling still, blowing a kiss at your disappearing figure.

"Take care, my dear! Do bring back a tart for me!"

Roses. It had always smelled like roses in Heartslabyul, if not cake or red fruit. Everything was red, white, perhaps checkered or not like a chessboard. There was black, but not this much. Even with the scent of roses obscuring your senses, it does nothing to deter the scent of ink and blot that had split and bubbled across the gardens and the statues. 

It frightens you, and you cannot reach into the crevices of your mind to find comfort in the memory of an Unbirthday Party. You are never even given the chance to try as you hear Ace bark from afar. “About time you both got here. Quickly, quickly!” Deuce is quick on his feet, but his hold on you does not cease when you notice that his hand is still gripping your own. “Man, it’s been ages since I was last here. It doesn’t look that different.” He uttered, marveling at the ink-stained world before him. 

Something else catches your eye, however. Shuffling along the guidelines of the supposed-garden maze are Heartsalbyul students, whose faces were obscured with ink. They hustle about, carrying cans of paint and carpentry supplies. “There are students here!” You whisper. Just as Deuce was ready to confront the group, Ace clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother,” 

You never took the time to realize how much Ace had grown from the shadow of a first-year. Since when had he been taking initiative? “Grim’s been trying to grab their attention for a while now. They phase through him like ghosts.” You fall silent, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. It was evident that something terrible had happened here, but too many pieces of the puzzle were missing. 

Your thoughts were quickly cut off by a quiet purr from the distance. Grim turns a corner, his little ribbon flying through the air as he pounces forward in a hurry. Immediately, he stops before you, curling his tail in endearment. Just as you used to, you found yourself crouching down, kneading your fingers against his head. There were four small envelopes held between his teeth. “What’d you find, Grim?” You murmur, taking the envelopes into your possession.

Two shadows are casted behind you, and you could only find some relief in their familiarity. Deuce takes an envelope, Ace takes another, and you are all left to read its contents. “I haven’t gotten one of these in ages!” Deuce exclaimed, eyes wide as his finger ran over his name on the envelope. “Invitations to today’s Unbirthday Party?” You ask, slipping the cardstock out from the opening. “Maybe we will get more answers if we attend.” 

Ace lets out a noise of concern as he nudges your shoulder. “Look at this,” His finger points at the fine writing on the card.

Please paint the roses red.

Please bring a white tablecloth to the Unbirthday Party.

Please bring the sleeping dormouse to the Unbirthday Party.

Please welcome the Prefect to the Unbirthday Party.

Your blood runs cold at the final statement. You had barely been here for even a minute, and it seems that someone— something knew you were here. 

Grim is not blind to how your expression is stricken with fear. No longer a kitten now, he bumps his head against your knee and meows softly, snapping you out of your train of thought. You sigh, followed by Deuce’s grunt. “Who do you think wrote this?” His dark eyes meet Ace’s scarlet ones that avoid him, not wanting to even think on the mystery. “Beats me.” Deuce opens his mouth, and his hand is already reaching out to grab the other’s shoulder, but Grim’s hiss cuts him off.

“There’s something else, Henchman!” 

All eyes are trained onto the little direbeast that bared his fangs. “Someone’s trapped in the gardens! Tried sniffing 'em out, but there’s no end to the hedges.” Rising to your feet, you frown as you glance at the maze entrance. The white roses that had been growing from the bushes had either been wilting or were stained in ink, the substance dripping onto the ground. “Looks like magic’s got something to do with it.” You rasped, allowing your feet to carry you forward.

The concerned calls for you were largely ignored, not when curiosity drove you further. It wasn’t as if Alice gave any true regard for her safety when exploring the rest of Wonderland in her tale, and neither did you. You march along the dirt path, following the right side of each and every turn until you find yourself back at the start. Grim, who had been trailing at your side, groaned in annoyance. “It’s bringing us in circles!” He scowled, pawing at your knee. 

A small bush is covered in white roses, untouched by decay or blot. And another, and another few more down a row. 

You pause, staring at the plant intensely. "An Unbirthday Party," You murmur, hearing footsteps catch up to you until all that is left is Deuce and Ace’s shallow panting. The odd plant catches their attention as well, and it does not take long for Ace to lick his lips into a smirk. "Deuce, don't you remember that rule?" The dark haired boy tilts his head towards the other, confusion evident in his clueless blink. 

"What rule?" 

"The roses must be painted red for Unbirthday Parties.” 

Now, that jogged Deuce’s memory. How could he possibly forget after spending three years painting those goddamn roses red? “Yeah?” Taking out his pen, the man sighs in relief. At the very least, they wouldn’t be doing this manually. Ace is grinning now, having fished out his own pen and pointed it at a white rose. “Let’s get painting.” 

They are quicker than you remember, much more agile in the way they flick their wrists and channel color into those blooms. “You remembered the rules, Ace?” You murmur, awe in your voice. It brings a nostalgic sweetness to your heart when Ace grins at you, seeking validation as he always had when you were present. “Of course, I did. I became the housewarden in our third year. Isn’t that right, Deuce?” He boasted, his ego all the more stroked by the way your jaw falls slack. The other only nods in admittance, rolling his eyes at his friend. 

“What?!” 

Cackling along, Ace finishes painting an entire rose bush red. “Yep, could you believe that? Memorized all 810 rules in total.” For the first time since you have been reunited with him, you find yourself feeling warm talking to the redhead. “You’re amazing, Ace.” You breathe out, sneaking to Deuce’s side as the former delinquent finishes painting one of the bushes. The joy was immediately taken away from your expression when Ace pauses, melting back down into a cold scowl as he turns away. “Tch,” He clicks, moving onto the next bush. 

You are unable to help with the lack of supplies, but that does not stop you from keeping Deuce company. Your fingers brush against a white rose, playing with the soft petals. “I missed doing this with both of you.” You sigh softly, allowing a moment of vulnerability. Deuce slows in his movements, taking the time to glance at your somber expression. He smiles, attempting to lighten the mood. “Me too.” To no avail, you shift uncomfortably in your stance as you continue cupping the rose. “Deuce,” He clenches his jaw, as if afraid of what you are about to ask of him.

“Do you remember what happened when I disappeared?” You do not miss the way his expression hardens, eyes shifting away immediately as the question was given. “Ah…” Deuce’s mouth opens for a slight moment before he shuts it, in search of an answer that was long lost. In a quiet croak, Deuce murmurs an apology. “I don’t think I recall. I’m sorry.” He finally musters the will to glance at you, almost pained to give you an explanation. “It’s so foggy. I knew it happened during our first year, but…” The former delinquent sighed, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry, Prefect. I can’t—!” 

Deuce falls silent, eyes wide with alarm now. “Prefect, look.”

You do not understand why until you follow his gaze, down to your hand. For a mere second, sparkles of light were quietly emitting from your fingertips; the white rose slowly being dyed a crimson red in your palm. 

“The roses…” He breathes out, watching as the rose stills itself completely red. You stare, mouth ajar as you turn to Deuce with frantic confusion.

“Great Sevens—”

“You guys finished?” Neither of you glance at Ace who had begun approaching you both now, having finished his portion of the work. The redhead stares at the way sweat beads down Deuce’s pale face, all color drained from shock. “Ace, the Prefect—” Grim does not allow Deuce’s quiet voice to come through, not when the scent of ink suddenly floods the air and makes you feel dread. “Look! Something’s opened up!” You hear the direbeast from afar. Ace refuses to waste another moment in Heartlsabyul as he jogs into the garden maze once more. 

“Let’s go! Hurry, hurry!” 

You share a quick look with Deuce, and he returns your weak stare with understanding. This can wait, but the possible students trapped here cannot. Both of you are hot on Ace’s trail, following the footsteps until you find a new opening in the maze. 

The sight of blot makes you ill, and judging by the sounds of Grim’s yelping, it seems that they have already encountered their beast. 

Deuce pushes his way past the blot and you follow behind, eyes landing on a large blob of ink fastened onto the ground in one large clump. Ace is hurling fire at it, taking a quick glance back at Deuce who arms himself.  “Tch, be careful!” Ace hissed, kicking at a puddle of ink that threatened to drag his foot down. “Blot!” Grim is breathing fire too, causing the blob to shrink inwards in response. Deuce is throwing spells at the abomination now, summoning vines to constrict the blob’s movements into a confined space. 

And in that moment, you see it; the outline of a limp arm dripping in ink. 

Your eyes flicker back at your companions that have been throwing all sorts of magic at the abomination, but it does not entirely wash away the blot. The blot remains, swallowing up whatever poor person was inside. You know better than to interfere, but wasn’t that something you were always good at? You’ve certainly done it before.

Such egocentric thoughts will have you killed, but you would sooner die sitting idly by and doing nothing now. 

Ace’s eyes are wide with a mixture of fright and alarm as he watches you whisk past the puddles of ink, towards the direction of that blotted creature. “Prefect, get back!” He screamed, gripping his pen tight as he threw a larger fireball at the blot. “Deuce, bring the Prefect back!” Deuce freezes at the demand, finally taking notice of your figure that is so dangerously close to the blot. If you were pulled in, you certainly wouldn’t come out anymore. “Prefect!”

Their cries fall onto deaf ears as you search for that arm. Rather than one now, you spot two limbs this time, sticking out of the inky cavern of the blob. Gritting your teeth, you suck a deep breath and heave. “Take my hand!” You cry out, plunging your arms into the inky abyss, much to the distressed cries of your companions. 

A startled cry emits from your lips as two hands reach out from the ink, clawing onto your sleeves. Something is pulling you, or rather, someone is pulling themselves out. Your feet threaten to give in, but it is when you feel a pair of muscular arms wrap around your middle when you feel secure. Deuce pants into your ear, glaring at the blotted creature, and he pulls. 

There is light, you notice. There is a certain glimmer of light emitting from within the blot as you see more and more of the outline trying to escape. Checkered red and white patterns are coming into view, and it is almost as if the ink is shying away from you now. With a final pull from Deuce, a heavy figure is sent tumbling your way, knocking you down onto the grass as a large flicker of fire overcomes the monster once and for all. Reduced into nothing, dark miasma fades into the air and soon, the blot was no longer. 

“Prefect, what the hell were you thinking!?” You hear the redhead cry out, followed by his frantic footsteps. Back flat against the grass, you could only peer at Ace’s reddened face as he takes your shoulders. He is looking at you, at every piece of you as if he were an overbearing mother. 

“I knew you used to be stupid sometimes, but now is not the time to be reckless! You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse, died! Don’t you have any sense of—!” 

“That was a close one. I thought I was a goner!”

A new voice this time fills in the space, and everyone falls silent. You have not even registered the sudden weight on your thighs, or the way that said weight disappeared in that moment. Light orange hair tied into a ponytail, accompanied by those little canines that glinted whenever he smiled.

“You—!” Deuce choked as the figure held up two fingers into a ‘peace’ sign. You beam, mustering a shaky smile as the name returns to your memory.

“It’s me, Cay-Cay!”

TAGLIST: @jjsmeowthie @deviious @hellfirestarter @thatpersonuouknow @knorreine @nerenda @goths4gambit @ghostlysyntaxed @minkyungseokie @daeda21 @red1sg0n3 @hatsumekannazuki @driftaway27 @alienlatteinspace @michtellch @loyalkatniss @notquitebunnie @eliza-be-t-h @avalordream @lovemiyae @our-raven-strife-universe @cecil-the-crybaby @your-dazzling-sun @twstsandturns @mrs-hoshina @biumg-ie @mellowberrie

[wolfiesmoon]

Hey I hope you are doing well when ever you are reading this but how do you think the 3rd year boys from twst would react to their s/o (gn reader) cuddling with a huge plush instead of them.

Like this.

Oh boy oh boy this kinda cures my writers block tbh, i have so many drafts but none of em look enticing enough to continue writing (´д｀|||)

I took out a few of the 3rd years bc its too many people for 1 fic but i might make a part 2 where i add the missing 3rd years at some point

i went with the more silly writing style again, hope that's fine by you ○( ＾皿＾)っ

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Malleus Draconia

He doesn't exactly get why, but he feels kinda annoyed just laying next to you while you hug a big ol plushie

This doesn't feel right🫤

But then again, you look rlly happy and satisfied so he stays quiet since if you're happy, he's happy (he desperately wants to be in the plushy's place)

When you playfully kiss the plush though, that rule no longer applies. After all, his rightful spot is in your arms🫠

He nudges you. "Put the stuffed animal away."

"You sound angry." You smirk and kiss the plush again, knowing he's probably annoyed about that

without another word, he pulls the plushy out of your hands and settles down in its place

"I am a much better than that object. Just so you know." he smiled smugly, expecting a kiss on the cheek just like you gave to the plushie earlier

you kissed him on the lips instead just to see his eyes widen and his face go red ofc 😏

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Leona Kingscholar

basically, it is NOT happening

"hell no." is the only thing he says before ripping the poor plushie out of your arms and chucking it across the room

like actually how DARE you try to replace him with a plushie

"Why would you do that?" You pouted at him, looking at the now discarded plushy from the bed🤕

"You know damn well why." He huffed, laying down on top of you without warning which tends to be a habit of his

"Because that's my spot, got it?" He answered for you. clearly you forgot😒

"Uhhh, right." you answered after a short pause...

"I won't remind you next time." he sounded rlly annoyed. it's kinda funny how worked up he got over a plushy replacing him 🤭

this also means he won't let you get up for like.... atleast 2 hours to atone for your sins

moral of the story: don't do this again unless you want a ripped up plushie and a pissed off lion man😠

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Idia Shroud

"This is so unfair. Even worse than an OP boss. " he sighed dramatically, laying down besides you and pouting at the sight og a huge plushie in your arms

"pick up the sock if you have enough energy to complain." you turned away from him, still annoyed with him

being the epic gamer he is (😎💯), he discarded one of his socks in the middle of his room and didn't feel like picking it up later even after you told him to

...which ended with you refusing to cuddle with him until he does pick up the sock

after a short while of very awkward silence...

he groaned in annoyance, begrudgingly getting up and finally picking up the sock, then leaving the room to put it in the wash

you smirked victoriously, placing the plushie away as promised and letting him hug you instead

"The things you make me do, smh." he sighed, relaxing into you 😒

"Picking up a singular sock?" you teased him, hugging him back

He didn't reply so that means it's your victory 😝

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Vil Schoenheit

this is an unforgivable offense, just because you had a little disagreement earlier doesn't mean you can just replace him with a plushie😠

love transcends disagreements, after all

does not help at all that the plushie's cute round face reminds him of a certain thorn in his side named Neige LeBlanche😒

he sighs, "I may have been too harsh back there."

your only reply is an annoyed huff and you hug the plushie tighter which makes one of those anime veins pop up on his face 💢

he takes a deep breath "It was not my intention to hurt your... sensibilities." he's trying babe, he's really trying

You don't reply for a moment...

"Ugh." you throw the plushie away and hug him tightly "This doesn't mean I forgive you, just for the record."

"I still stand by my opinion too, just worded less harshly." he gently puts an arm around you, stroking your back

it was only a matter of time until you gave up with your stubborn pettiness, soon you'll forgive him too, he'll make sure of that 😌

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Lilia Vanrouge

He's actually surprisingly chill about it i feel like

He wouldn't get annoyed or be jealous per se, he'd just get a little sad it's not him you're hugging😔

he's there, you know? there's no need for a plushie...

"Am I not satisfactory enough?" He asks half playfully half seriously

"In what sense?" you totally knew what he meant but just wanted to tease him back

"Hey, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he smiled at you, immediately knowing what you were playing at

"Hahaha, you know me too well." you kiss his cheek, yet you still don't let go of the plushie which makes him pout

"I see you have found yourself a new lover." his eyes travel to the plushie for a moment, the betrayal is real😔🙏🏻

"You got a problem with him?" you raised a brow 🤨

"A little." he hugged you from the back, getting comfy

"Okay fine, maybe my ex is the better one after all." you let go of the plushie and turned around to hug him back 💗

[lenamystic]

about him

mary x black fem reader

inside a smoky, sultry juke joint somewhere down the south. it was another thick, sticky night at the juke. the music was loud, bodies louder—drinking like sunday wasn’t ever gonna come. i’d been here plenty times before. everyone knew my name, knew my drink, and they knew enough not to test me.

i was dressed for trouble tonight. my red silk dress clung to my hips like a second skin, curls wild around my face. the jukebox howled something dirty and bluesy in the corner, and that old wood floor rattled with stomped-out heartache.

and there she was—mary.

leaning by the back table like she owned it. long legs crossed, drink in hand, mouth set in that pretty little scowl she always wore whenever i came around. she was always acting like i was some thorn in her side. like i’d stolen something from her. always short, always cold.

it didn’t matter if i walked in alone, with stack, or with a whole band behind me. her eyes would find mine and cut through me like a knife. and tonight, she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

i made my way to the bar, passed stack on the way and gave him a little nod. he winked, like he always did. always trying something. but my mind wasn’t on him. it was on her.

she was watching. i could feel it, same way you feel heat off a skillet.

“something funny?” i asked as i crossed my arms.

mary didn’t flinch. “ain’t nobody talkin’ to you, girl.”

“oh, so we’re doin’ this tonight?” i smirked, leaning one hip on the table. “you mad i showed up lookin’ better than you again?”

her eyes snapped to mine. “please. ain’t nobody worried about you or what you got on.”

“then fix your face” you responded carelessly.

she laughed—dry, low, and dangerous. “every time you come in here, you makin’ sure all eyes on you. with your nose all in the air.”

i tilted my head. “is that really what this is about? or is it cause stacks said hi to me before he even looked your way?”

mary’s jaw tightened. bingo.

i leaned in closer, grinning like i’d won something. “damn. that’s it huh? you mad cause i don’t have to try with him.”

her voice dropped low, sharp as broken glass. “don’t flatter yourself. he’ll talk to anything with a waist and lip gloss.”

i laughed. “you would know, wouldn’t you?”

mary stood up then, real slow. her body was close now. too close. and her eyes were fire. “you really think this got anything to do with him?”

i blinked. “doesn’t it?”

she stepped in, close enough that I could feel her breath ghostin’ over my collarbone. “you think i’m watchin’ you cause of stack?

i paused.

“if i wanted him baby, i would’ve had him”

my heart kicked up, but my mouth wouldn’t stop. “then what is your damn problem with me?”

she stared at me for a long second. then, finally, her voice dropped to a slow, sultry whisper. “you’re my problem.”

i swallowed hard. “excuse me?”

she moved even closer—our bodies nearly pressed now. her hand grazed my hip, barely, but it was enough to make my skin burn. “i give you attitude ’cause I don’t know what the hell else to do with you. you get under my skin, and i hate it. hate how you laugh. how you walk in here like you own every man’s eyes. and hate it even more that you got mine too.”

my breath was caught. everything i thought I knew flipped upside down.

“you could’ve just said that,” i breathed.

she grinned, eyes wicked. “and miss the chance to make you mad first?”

i didn’t have a smart response for that—not when she lightly grabbed my fingers, putting it in her mouth softly. it felt much more intimate than it could’ve been. her lips were soft but rough with need, i could feel graze against my finger.

the back hallway was dark, lit only by moonlight slipping through the cracks in the wood. we didn’t speak. didn’t need to.

she backed me up against the wall, lips dragging down my neck as my hands tangled in her curls. i moaned low in my throat when her hands found the hem of my dress, hiking it up slow, like she had all night to learn my body.

“still think this is about stack” she murmured, voice thick and husky against my skin.

“maybe not,” i breathed, arching into her touch.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

Hot Shower

NSFW Minors do not interact

Content warning: Smut, reader has a vagina, vaginal fingering, hand job, penis in vagina sex, sex standing up, overstimulation, kinky-ass shit with the showerhead (i don't know how else to describe it lol) Note: please do not repeat any of these actions without proper safety measures use a non-slip mat or you will likely end up in the hospital.

you heaved a sigh as the hot water rushed down your back melting some of the stress away. it had been a hard day and you needed to wash it off before you could continue with your evening.

the pulsing mode on the showerhead hit your back lightly massaging the tension out of your shoulders.

as you were getting ready to rinse off and cook dinner you heard the front door open. Shadow must have come home.

"Y/N?" he called out.

"I'm up here" you called down "Just taking a quick Shower I'll be down in a minute."

before you knew it you heard the door to the bathroom open and shut.

"No need I need to clean myself off too" Shadow said taking off his gloves and stepping into the shower behind you.

he wrapped you in an embrace clearly exhausted after a long day.

You could tell he just got back from a mission his scent enlightening your senses.

"How was your day my love?"

"Exhausting, my boss keeps getting after my ass about the most minute details." you responded

"I'm sorry about that love, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just existing helps honestly... and maybe a back rub"

shadow gave a low chuckle his sultry voice echoing throughout the room "I'm on it my love" he placed his hands on your shoulders and began gently massaging them.

you hummed in pleasure as he made his way down your back.

as he was massaging you he couldn't help but admire the way you looked, your bear back glistened as the water cascaded down making your fur look glossy, almost glasslike. beads of water stuck to your hair and ears like beautiful fragile pearls. the scent of your soap invaded his nose comforting him and drawing him closer into you. and then your beautiful humming soft and comforting, he wanted to hear you more and hear you shout his name in pleasure.

you had a stressful day after all, it was his duty as your boyfriend to help you relive some of that stress. and if he needed to use his body to do it than so be it.

"You missed a spot my love mind if I help you get it? and you can keep telling me about your day."

"sure dear" you responded a smile evident in your tone.

you began spilling about how your boss was annoying and venting about one specific co-worker who was a constant thorn in your side. all the while shadow detached the shower head from it holder bringing the pulsing water down closer to your back. he lowered the nozzle lower and lower down.

"and don't even get me started on Brenda she can be such a- such a" your breath hitched as you felt a warm pulsing sensation against your folds. looking down you saw that Shadow had moved the shower head between your legs the pulsing water tickling your folds drawing you into a state of arousal.

"Sorry love just want to make sure you're all clean, please tell me more about Brenda."

"Who?" you asked your mind growing foggy with pleasure

Shadow gave a low hum of approval "Good just what I wanted to hear."

Keeping the showerhead in place he moved one of his hands up to your chest grabbing a breast he gently massaged it bringing a moan to your lips.

your pussy clenched hoping to grab onto something but much to your dismay the water could not satisfy you, not the way that he could.

"Shadow mmm please I need smmore friction"

Shadow enjoyed the way your words slurred when you were getting pleasure, so he obliged removing the showerhead he put it back in it's place the water once again beginning to flow off the two of you.

he reached his hand around you teasing your entrance with the gentle brush of his fingers.

Of course he was teasing you now. you thought to yourself well two can play at that game.

reaching back your hand grabbed hold of his crotch his penis not quite out of it's hiding place yet just his tip poking out of his fur. which was all you needed to bring him to his knees.

swiping your thumb along the end shadow let out a yelp. you giggled as you repeated the action a low growl escaping shadow's lips.

with every small movement you made you coaxed his cock out until it sat heavy in your hand.

"still feel like teasing me love?" you asked playfully.

Shadow pressed a finger against your clit forcing a gasp to escape your lips.

"Always." he responded inserting one finger into you.

You squeezed on his cock forcing a moan to escape his lips.

"that's too bad"

you began slowly stroking his length the two of you moaning in tandem as he pressed his single digit against you he inserted his second and third finger as a plea for you to speed up which you accepted.

Shadow pressed against you walls with an urgent force it seams your actions had motivated him to please you correctly after all. you moaned as his fingers pressed against your sweet spot the pressure beginning to build up in your abdomen

you could tell Shadow was close too a whimper falling from his lips a silent request to let him cum inside you. you let go of his cock just as the tension in your abdomen broke cum mixed with the water dribbled down your leg.

before you could recover shadow turned you around and gently pushed you into the wall behind you knocking down shampoo bottles and soap in the process.

he plunged his lips into yours. His hips bucking against you begging for entrance his hand grabbing your waist promising to keep you steady you lifted you leg up wrapping it around his waist allowing a clear opening for Shadow's cock.

not wasting a second he inserted himself into you thrusting wildly against you screams escaped your throat, you hadn't had time to come down from your orgasm yet and the way Shadow was going at it was bringing you close to the edge once again.

Your fingers clawed against his back clinging to him for balance. Your actions only encouraging him to go faster once again building up the familiar tension in your core.

Your vision blurred as your mind grew foggy. your walls closing around him. fluids spilling out of your pussy as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, his cock creating a sweet pressure between your hips.

In a moment Shadow became all that you knew his cock became your lifeline with each thrust your walls grew tighter, his lips against yours was the only thing you wanted to taste for the rest of your life.

You were ready to snap once again. you called out for your lover wanting his permission.

"Go ahead my love I'm almost done."

You screamed his name as you orgasmed a few more thrusts from him and he spilled into you his cock slipped out with ease as all the fluids dripped out of you.

Shadow held you up as your knees went week too cock drunk to stand or do much of anything else. he cleaned you off and shut down the water.

he carried you to bed not bothering with putting you in your clothes. once you were tucked in he went to get you a snack and some water to help build up your strength again.

"Wait where are you going?" you whined reaching out for him.

"I'm just getting you some supplies to help you build up your strength."

"aww you always take such good care of me"

Shadow smiled at you before kissing you between your ears. "I always will"

[sweet-honey-tears]

Just Turn it Down

dad!Aizawa x biological!GN!Reader FAMILY FLUFF!!!!!

…. I’m so sorry for how long this took… I hope you like it🖤🤍🥺 and thank you for your amazing request!!! -🍯

WARNING: None, cute stuff. Possible gender mix ups, when I write a draft, I write in fem tense (she,her,ect) and then go back and fix it after- but I’m sick so may have missed a few. I’m incredibly sorry.

To say it was a surprise to the world would be an understatement. The scary, hard-headed, slouched teacher of AU had a kid—an actual, biological child. It was no surprise that Aizawa would keep it under wraps. Your safety and his patience could easily be strained.

“Who is the mother?”

“Was it a Fling?”

“Did the Pro-Hero Eraser Head hook up with…”

The world got its answers; with it, you got your silence. “My mother is dead. Died in childbirth, I’d like to be left alone now.” It was a blatant lie, and when Hizashi asked you why, trying his best to understand, his tall frame slumped slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, you answered, “Because she is.” The subject was never brought up again.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

While not your biological siblings, Eri and Shinso have been part of your family since they stepped through the door. Shinso, who was older than you, had offered advice more than once on subjects such as schools, relationships, and your future career. The world is aware of your future decisions, another blunt shut-down.

“Do you wanna be just like your father? A hero”

You glanced at your dad off to the side, his arms crossed yet still tense. Ready to pull you back the minute they ask a question that crosses the line. Aizawa smiled slightly, ever so suddenly that only you caught it. Then, there was an ever so slight nod.

“No.”

Shinso supports you fully; he always feels the public backlash of his decisions due to his quirks. Villain, villain, villain. He’d prove them wrong. But that didn't stop his anger when his mind bounced to the idea of you being put through assaults. You can manipulate living organisms. Specifically, increasing the size of plants and controlling movement. As always, with their lack of space, the press managed to grab photos of you using the quirk. Your sweet smile as you lean over some old lady's rose bush, the spiked vines climbing up to reach your fingers as soft pink flowers open. According to you, it had been stepped on and crushed under some careless foot, and you just wanted to fix it. Yet that story would be too sweet. The public zoomed in on the aspect that you could grow thorns! What if you decided to covered the town in poison ivy?! You huffed at the so called fears written in the paper.

“I wouldn't play their game, so now I need to be their villain.”

Your quirk explicitly comes from your mother's side to your disgust. Thou Aizawa couldn't care less about the quirk; he wouldn't care if you were quirkless, something he’s said more than once. However, he felt the slightest bit of glee as he watched you quiet the loud blonde in his class. It wasn’t your fault; he wanted to spar, and you did. Thou, you slightly regretted your decision as you watched the problem child, as your dad called him, scribble furiously down his journal.

You don't go to UA, a choice that sometimes stresses Aizawa. Yet, considering the recent events with this group of students, it now seemed like a safer choice, ironically. But when you do go to UA, for whatever reason, it feels like another home. Surrounded by the many staff and heroes that raised you, taking you on days, Aizawa had patrol. AllMight, in his uncle-like glory, yelled:

“Ah Young Y/n, how tall you’ve grown!”

This caused all students to stop and look at the one kid who was not in uniform. You’re as much their daughter as you are, Aizawa. Your hair getting ruffled, cheeks pinched, comments how beautiful you’ve become. Midnight, despite what the media says, and Rumi

have been wonderful mother figures throughout your life. Aizawa, as great a father as he is, knows when to throw his hands up for your comfort and sometimes his. You tell the two women secrets, crushes, and heartbreakers, and they keep it locked up, never spilling the information on even Aizawa.

Your little sister, Eri, clings to you like a koala and you her, pulling you to a point where your spine is more of a bridge than a body part, just so she can whisper you a secret or happily show you the family photo she drew in class, with you, Shinso, and Aizawa all drawn with wide smiles, stick hands holding stick hands.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You blame Shinso for your music taste because if you admitted that Bakugou was the one to introduce, you think your father would get his motto tattooed onto you. “Stay away from loud blondes.” But you couldn't help it. Scene Queen seemed to attach to every cell of your body. The loud, angry music about worth and the media seeing comforting as you watched the world around you. There is so much pain, so many big problems, and yet some so small and meaningless, silly almost. These are easy ones to fix if people just agree. Maybe the same could be said for the argument of where Villains came from; the same ones you watch hurt your family, but the thought feels so sickening. So switch to another artist, the screaming, feeding, and subduing the boiling anger that lingers in your chest due to the media. You were getting ripped apart by the bloodhounds for not giving them the bloody steak they required, so instead, they chose you. You're a small, converted life forced to be nailed and screwed since you wouldn’t play their games.

Your finger mindlessly tapped to the next artist, pondering slightly if your hearing will be gone when you reach your 20s due to Metalica. Your fingers lightly drum on the page, your body unconsciously moving to the beat of the song that blasted too loud in your headphones. To be stuck in your own world and notice your dad walking past you, peering over the couch to see what you were doing. Aizawa paused; the screeching music from your headphones sounded all too familiar. With little hesitation, he reached down and grabbed one of the earpieces, listening for the split moment he had before the music paused. It was clear he startled you from the way you jumped and whipped around.

“Dad!”

“(Enter favorite metal band)?”

You paused, searching his face for something you weren't really sure of. ���Uh Yeah… Shinso introduced me to them.”

Aizawa smiled a bit, handing you back the headphones. “The band came out when I was in UQ,” He huffed, watching your surprised face. “Mike was very much into them and even met the band.” He watched the excitement in your face take over. He’d need to call Hizashi and tell him the radio hero would be over the moon. “They’re from (Enter Country), I believe.” He leaned against the couch.

“Yeah they did!” Azawia paused, about to speak again, when his phone rang, the screeching sound leading from the kitchen; it was UA; you both knew it. He sighed, looking back at you, smiling slightly. “Just listen to them at a lower volume.” He ruffled your hair before leaving to get his phone.

He left and was gone the rest of the day, some issue on the campus. Damn problem children. And when you came home from school, he still wasn’t there. But sitting on the kitchen counter,rested a small keychain of the band of the bands logo.

[nayaesworld]

Rugged Whiskey

Part 3

__

Warnings: murder, hematolagnia, smut, knife play

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

__

Khia squealed and ran around her kitchen from Terry as the champagne spilled from the bottle. A few days of planning and mapping out their plan had them jumping with excitement. The two were enjoying a small celebratory meal before they went together to search for their victim. The sun would set on Joel Castille for the final time tonight, and Khia was excited about it. He was a drunk who couldn’t understand the word no and had become a thorn in her side as she tried to do her job. She was used to drunk belligerent men, yes, but when she had to repeat herself as often as she did to Joel, she would be happy to clean the streets of low level scum.

“You really wanna watch me do it…it won’t be a pretty sight mama.”

“Yes Terry I told you that already, I wanna watch everything…and what do you mean it won’t be a pretty sight? People literally create whole documentaries based on murder…it’s art.”

“Sure all that blood won’t bother you, miss pretty in pink?” Terry raised a thick brow at her and nodded at her baby pink satin sleep set.

“Well I won’t have on pink, I’ll have on black sooo..” she said matter-of- factly.

“Yes you will, I got you a little surprise…since you wanna be front and center so bad.” Terry stepped away toward her living room and pulled a small pink gift bag from behind a couch pillow. He handed it to her and watched her as she threw him a playful suspicious glare. She quickly threw out the tissue paper and gasped loudly.

“Oh my god this is soo damn cutesy…I wanna put it on right now!” He watched her gush over the pink ski mask as she fitted it on over her sleek pressed hair.

“You look so sexy… I wouldn’t even fight back if you came in my house at night looking like this, gimme a kiss..lil crazy ass.” His plump lips suckled and smacked against hers, tonight would be a well needed bonding experience for them; he was so ready and willing to prove himself to her in any way she needed.

“Soo your guy Joel Castille..you fucked him?” Terry squinted his eyes and studied her face carefully,

“What..eww no but he wanted too, that’s how I got his address.He’s not even my type.”

“And what is your type exactly?” Terry watched her place a finger under her chin in faux thought and lightly swatted her butt.

“Hmm let’s see…6’3 men with green eyes and big muscles that do what I say, you know anyone that fits the description?”

“Mhm and so do you , now let’s go…we got a schedule to stick to.”

Midnight was the focal point of the night for them and Terry stood off to the side mesmerized as Khia slipped the black catsuit over her shapely body. It clung to her skin in ways that had him internally holding himself back from fucking her up and down her room. She was pure ecstasy in human form and being drunk off her was a constant for him. Black leather boots turned her into a sexy ass catwoman and Selina Kyle couldn’t hold a light to her.

Terry made a show of picking out the weapon of choice tonight. And ultimately settled on an 8 inch serrated knife. It was quick and to the point with easy cleanup. A few zip ties,a gag, and a tarp completed their list so they headed for his truck. Joel lived a little ways from Khia’s home in the quiet country. His closest neighbor seemed to be a half mile up the road so their plans of luring him out of his house were still on.

__

Light work was made of tricking Joel out of his home and now he sat gagged on his knees in front of them both. The rushing river behind them drowning out the gagged cries and groans. Khia buzzed beside him with excitement and she watched his every move, watching and waiting to see how he would draw blood first. Terry circled the man, ready to pounce like a lion. Fists gripped at his side as he eyed the man, a man who wanted his girl, a man who had been harassing her, a man he planned to carve like a pumpkin. His hands grabbed Khia’s wrist and he twirled her in front of Joel.

“This is what you wanted…hmm? This what had you taking your drunk ass down to Sapphire every damn night?” Terry let a palm come down on Khia’s ass and gripped it slowly making a show off gripping and groping her supple body.

He watched Joel’s eyes widen in anger and he mumbled angrily behind the gag. Oh so he thought he actually had a chance with her? Delusional.

“You thought she wouldn’t tell her man that some bum wouldn’t leave her alone at her job… you thought you would skate?” Terry shook his head and a laugh erupted from deep with him. He would let this man get no words, he didn’t want his voice and words ever gracing Khia’s ears again. The star of the show finally made its appearance, the serrated knife felt electric in his palm and he gripped the handle with unyielding force.

“Khia baby this is for you… for you to never again doubt the extent of my love and care for you. For you to trust me completely, we all we got.” He watched her wipe away a tear and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, sealing it.

The knife was plunged into his chest. Jagged edges slicing and cutting through cloth and flesh, Terrys eyes gleamed at the sight and slowly pulled it out eyeing the gush of blood that flowed behind it. Khia’s hand gripped his bicep tightly and her hot wet mouth sucked and licked at the shell of his ear.

“Daddy please…more blood, I want you to cut him here next. He’ll bleed more.” Terry watched her point at his wrist and grinned evilly. She wanted slit wrist and that’s what she’d get. Her breathy moans coaxed him further and further. Close and closer to draining the kneeled man of his life force.

Quick flicks of Terry's hand made crimson flow again. Left and right wrist slit and draining slowly. There would be no more Joel Castille, he would become a former, a notch on both of their belts. Their first kill together. A slit throat sealed his fate and brought forth something carnal between the two. This energy was dark and new, yet it felt balanced between them.

The body laid rolled tightly in the deep blue tarp, limbs zip tied together tightly. Terry eyed Khia as she slipped off her left boot reaching down into it. Her eyes gave off this feigned innocence that made his dick rock hard. He watched her bring forth a small pocket knife. It’s silver blade shimmering in the night.

“I thought that maybe we could have our own fun daddy…promise to be gentle?” Terry felt like his head was spinning right off his head. She always said the most painfully beautiful things to him, she knew the control she had over him.

“Fuck baby, you gonna let me carve up this this pretty soft skin? Let me put my name on it for real?” She sauntered over placing the small knife into his palm, giving him full creative control.

“Yess… I want this with you. I want you to mark me… do whatever you want.” Terry let his fingers tangle roughly in her hair as he pulled her roughly to meet his lips. He was hungry for her and couldn’t slow his rushed movements.He had removed his black denim jacket and placed it on the plush grass beneath Khia. He was kneeled over her, fondling her heavy breast, fingers plucking and squeezing the plump nipples.

He slid the knife slowly over her hard nipples bottom lip sucked into his mouth in intense concentration. He had plans of cutting her out of her tight catsuit slowly but surely, a well put together act of his non existent patience. He didn’t know what would happen when he sliced into her supple skin and the anticipation lit a fire deep inside him.

His mouth was placed over hers in a deep feverish kiss, tongue deep in her hot mouth exploring and tussling with hers. Terry let his free hand pinch her nose, allowing her only source of air to come from her mouth… and yet he controlled that airway too. Anytime she attempted to pull in a large gust of air his plump lips covered hers again cutting off that airflow.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you breathe.”He watched her closely and felt her nails sink into the skin of his arm, piercing his skin. A groan slid from his lips and he looked down at the small crescent slits on his arm, blood slowly dotting out of the small wounds. His teeth sank into her bottom lip and drew blood from it causing her to yelp and writhe beneath him.

“We can do this all night…now tell me you love me, or I’ll bite it again.” He lowered his lips onto hers again and the metallic taste of her blood met his tongue. If Terry had been a vampire Khia’s blood would be his drug of choice and he would stay fat and engorged on it.

“I love you..fuck I love you I swear I swear!” Her professed love had gained her breathing back from Terry.

“Now stay still and let daddy work…I love you more.” The pocket knife glided slowly past her belly and down to her hips, and Terry swiftly slit a hole into her catsuit near her inner thigh, exposing the soft flesh and her warm pussy to the windy night air. He sucked at the skin roughly watching as it turned red beneath his tongue, and when a small hickey formed there he let the knife glide over it watching her finch from the cold steel.

Terry had plans for what he wanted to mark onto her skin and they had talked briefly earlier that day about gifting each other with cute marks on their skin. As he started to puncture the skin in her inner thigh she began to kick and flail, throwing him off his game.

“Terry, I don't want it…Noo I don't want your name on me.” Terry wasn’t fazed though, he knew what this was. She wanted to act disgusted by the act so that he would force her into it, another sneaky way of getting him to rough her up.

“Yes you do you feigning for this shit. You my slut…look at the type of shit that makes this pussy drip..nasty little bitch.” Her pussy was spilling clear sticky liquid all over his hand, and her erect clit peeked out at him from behind her puffy lips.

“ Move again and this juicy ass thigh won’t be the only thing sliced tonight.” He watched her shake her head as she sucked lightly on her finger.

__

The letter ‘T’ and a tiny heart had been inscribed into her skin and lightly wrapped with gauze to heal. Afterwards Terry had laid down and let her sculpt a ‘K’ and a little star on his side just above his ribcage without so much as a flinch. The act of carving the heartfelt signs and symbols into each others skin had them doing enough fucking to wake the dead…no pun intended.

Khia was riding him like a bull with no saddle. Her hips grinded against his pelvis roughly, trying to stuff inch after inch into herself. She looked like an angel. Head thrown back and hands gripping his chest like he’d disappear if she let him go. He felt her pussy squeezing and convulsing for the second time as she gushed all over him. This was good pussy. Pussy primed and ready for what he had to offer. He flipped them over and his hand immediately went to work on her sopping little cunt.

“You watched daddy do some bad things tonight…you ever gonna tell anybody about it?” He slid a finger into her slowly watching her face.

“No daddy I promise… fuck them it’s only us, they don’t get you like I do.” She moaned and her bottom lip poked out slightly.

“Of course you won’t..because how are you so sure I won’t do the same to you. You just know this good ass cat you got gonna save you regardless..don’t you?” A second finger entered her and Terry was feeling manic.

“You wouldn’t dare… I own you just as much as you own me, what bitch would love you for who you truly are.. huh baby? Monsters only thrive in the midst of other monsters baby.” Terry let and third and final finger stretch her out and his free hand gripped her face roughly.

“Mmm monsters indeed… that’s why your pussy is so wet while I’m fingering you next to a dead man. You like this shit…it makes you feel alive. Bet you breathe a little better knowing you don’t share oxygen with him anymore.” His fingers were moving fast inside of her. His palm smacking her pussy as it moved in and out at a rapid pace.

“This shit can get as sick as you want it to baby, I don’t have any limits. You ask I do. You demand I move, period!” He was kicking his pants and boxers off quickly, his head would explode soon if he didn’t sink into her intoxicating fuck hole.

“Daddy you look so pretty when you kill…you were so concentrated and you made me cum a little when you slit his throat. That’s your best form…killing.” Terry pulled his fingers from her and stuffed them into her mouth, she had a real way with words. She sounded so poetic talking about the darkest shit with a face that looked like she wouldn’t sway a fly.

“When I fold you up don’t do any moving…you hear me, just lay here and take it. Let daddy release all this shit.” He moved to smooth his hands under her thighs, pushing them into her chest. He wanted to get in deep and stay there.

His purpling tip was sensitive as it pushed into her tight entrance. He was trying to pace himself with slow strokes but the sensation of his back being scratched up and the yanking sensation on his dick had him tucking his face into her neck with a tongue in his cheek. He had her filled to the brim with veiny pulsing dick and a hand covered her mouth to smother out her loud screams of pleasure. Terry turned his face to hers and lapped at the tears that slowly rolled down her face, their salty taste propelling his hips forward.

“Khia mm..girl fuck fuck, this pussy got a grip on me. Can daddy nut in this pussy tonight…hmm put all them plan b’s to use?” They had an unnecessary amount of them in his bathroom that needed to be used, and the day they didn’t do their job..? well they’d be welcoming baby Richmond.

“Already, you can’t hold out just a little longer daddy? Just a little while longer… please just a little longer..a little rougher.” Terry was doing his best to bite back his orgasm and the loud smacks of skin were dizzying and yet he held off to fuck into her and choke her out like a ragdoll.

“Ohh you just wanna lay hear and be fucked and slutted out… I got you spoiled princess? You just lay here and let me pipe you down…and you so gorgeous, daddy’s little pretty bitch.” Her eyes rolled into her head and her open mouth was open game for the spit that left his mouth.

It sounded like a splashpad between them. White cream decorating their brown skin and wild hearts beating in tandem. This was true freedom for them. No one to judge them for how rugged and downright dirty they got with each other, no unsolicited advice or opinions on their relationship. She gave him the ok and Terry felt like he was releasing on a loop as his dick spurted shit after shot into her.

Crushed under his weight Khia raked her nails over the fresh scratches on his back and his skin got goosebumps all over. He cleaned them of as best as he could out there in the open country and pulled her up from the ground.

“I’m glad you came into Sapphire that night…everything changed for the better, I’m coming to your job next sexy.” She placed his heavy jacket over her chilled skin and walked with Terry, latex gloves tight on their hands.

“Ready baby… one..two..three!” They watched as the heavy body splashed into the river, cinder blocks pulling it further and further beneath the deep dark waves.

“Oh wow that was soo exciting…I can’t believe he thought I liked him. One look at you definitely told him he wasn’t my type.” Terry let his hands slither around her waist as he led her back to his truck.

“Mm mm you’re too much woman for any man besides me…they wouldn’t survive a night with you. I could definitely see you poisoning a man because he left your little beauty products unorganized.”

“Hey that’s a pet peeve of mine, you touch it you better put it back how you found it.“ she pointed a finger at him and grabbed his hand to step up into his truck. If it was one thing he had learned about Khia it was that she loved organization, everything had its own nook and cranny and it had better be exactly as she left it.

“Yes mam…though I’d rather you put a pillow over my face or something. At least when you lifted it up I’d be looking dead at you laughing.” She poked at his side as they shared a laugh, bright headlights pulling them out of the darkness and back towards the city.

“I’d sit something else on your face..fuck that pillow. You eat ass don’t you?…and don’t lie.”

“I’ll eat your ass..emphasis on your..I’ll stick this tongue anywhere you want me to, I never cared.”

“You’re a nasty nasty man Tj…nasty niggas deserve financial compensation for their work.”

“You plan on compensating some more Miss princess? Perhaps with dick down your throat this time?” He threw a raised brow her way before focusing back on the road.

“Mhmh and then some…now hurry and get us home man, I’m itchy.”

Terry put the pedal through the floor and sped home itching to enjoy part two of their escapade in the shower.

__

A/N: * pours glass of wine and closes robe tightly* what yall staring at?😟

@keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @starcrossedxwriter @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @invisiblegiurl @blackmoonchilee @talkswithdesi @notc0rtez @becauseimswagman1 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kaylaahisthebestest- @mysteryuz @tvchi @vivaalenaa @23jammy

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #black oc #black woman oc # rebel ridge

[d4n1elll4]

───〃𖹭 FINNICK ODAIR

“It takes 10 times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart.”

NAVIGATION ⋮ MASTERLIST

𖹭 A DARLING AND A VIRGIN by wife-of-all-dilfs [ONESHOT] [6.8K]

⇢ You are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. After being confronted by president Snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. Luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

𖹭 A LITTLE LESS DREADFUL by feelingdozy [DRABBLE] [0.4K]

⇢ You and Finnick see each other one day at a Capitol gathering. You two have some alone time and bask in each other’s company.

𖹭 AWAY FROM YOUR COLD LUST by leviathanspain [ONESHOT] [1.1K]

⇢ Finnick Odair and you have a long history, but can you forgive his mistakes?

𖹭 BREATHTAKING | PT.2 by ilguna [TWOSHOT] [3.5K]

⇢ You thought that you were going to go into the arena without ever meeting your soulmate. Little did you know, he’s been next to you the whole time.

𖹭 CLUELESS by ilguna [ONESHOT] [1.9K]

⇢ With the help of his ex-girlfriend, Finnick realizes that the girl he’s been wanting has been the one supporting him.

𖹭 CROWNED by ilguna [ONESHOT] [2.6K]

⇢ You were the one to crown Finnick ten years ago, and now he’s back in the games.

𖹭 DEVOTION by leviathanspain [DRABBLE] [0.6K]

⇢ You would’ve died without him, and now he’s all you can think of.

𖹭 FATE | PT.2 by ilguna [TWOSHOT] [2.7K]

⇢ “Well this is unfortunate.”

𖹭 FAVORS | PEEL AWAY by http-finnick [TWOSHOT] [0.8K]

⇢ As finnick sneaks back into your cart during the victory tour, you start to pity him as he wraps his arms around you, knowing that this is all for the captiol and none of it is true...at least not for you.

𖹭 WHAT THEY MADE US by a-aexotic [ONESHOT] [2.4K]

⇢ “It’s okay baby i got you.” Finnick and you were young, deadly, and beloved by the Capitol. But behind the glitz was a nightmare neither of you could escape—until you decided to fight back.

𖹭 HEAR MY SONG by ilguna [ONESHOT] [2K]

⇢ You want the first man that falls victim to your song, not knowing that he would end up being thrown overboard by his own crew.

𖹭 HIGH OUT OF YOUR MIND by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.6K]

⇢ As you sit in the cold hospital room of finnick odair in 13, you hear him talk about his one true love, and everything clicks.

𖹭 HIS EMBRACE by leviathanspain [DRABBLE] [0.8K]

⇢ Finnick Odair, capitol sweetheart and the thorn in your side.

𖹭* I WAS ALL OVER HER by leviathanspain [ONESHOT] [1.6K]

⇢ The night you and Finnick spent together. NOTE: Connected to Away From Your Cold Lust.

𖹭* INTO IT by andvys [DRABBLE] [0.9K]

⇢ You loved teasing him more than anything. Watching him take in a shaky breath as he grips your hips tightly while looking into your eyes so intently. A smirk tugging at his lips, acting as though your action doesn’t leave him with a desperate feeling, wanting even more.

𖹭 MISSING by http-finnick [ONESHOT] [1.5K]

⇢ After the war, your whereabouts are a mystery left with missing next to it. Finnick’s days are gloomy without his love as jealous friends burden him.

𖹭 OUR SECRET by ilguna [ONESHOT] [2.7K]

⇢ You missed your chance to tell Finnick that you loved him before the games, so you have to tell him when you get the chance.

𖹭 PERFECTLY TIMED | PT.2 by ilguna [TWOSHOT] [21.7K]

⇢ When you figure out that the arena’s a clock, Finnick promises that he’ll be your bodyguard from then on, and he doesn’t take that responsibility lightly.

𖹭 POISON | PT.2 | PT.3 by ilguna [MULTI-PART] [7.2K]

⇢ Finnick had hoped that it wouldn’t be you who was reaped. But in the end, he knows that it was right for you to volunteer.

𖹭 REMEMBER THE MEADOWS by http-finick [DRABBLE] [0.6K]

⇢ A shy finnick confessing his feelings to you after the war.

𖹭 RIGHT HERE WAITING by bartxnhood [DRABBLE] [0.8K]

⇢ After the quarter quell you vanish, no sign, no trace. You left behind your boyfriend, Finnick, who could just not wrap his head around your disappearance. What happened?

𖹭* SABER TOOTH | FULLY CHARGED by murdrdocs [TWOSHOT] [9.1K]

⇢ Just two days out from the Games, your mentor and best friend, Finnick Odair, comes to your room late at night in a mutual fit of insomnia to fulfill your (potentially) dying wish.

𖹭 SHE’S GETTING ON MY NERVES by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.3K]

⇢ You have to make a love story for the capitol with a clueless Finnick, but how do you do that when he can’t stop talking about her?

𖹭 SIREN’S SONG by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.9K]

⇢ As the soft waves hit Finnicks boat, he hears a lully song that pulls him deeper into the waters.

𖹭 SKIN TO SKIN by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.3K]

⇢ Another night without sleep as your boyfriend lays limp on top of you, you watch the sunrise and curse your insomnia for the waking of Finnick.

𖹭 STAY by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.1K]

⇢ Finnick comforts you after a breakup.

𖹭* THE DROUGHT OF AN OCEAN by thewordswewrite [SERIES] [51.3K+]

⇢ Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

𖹭 THE WATER HEALS OUR WOUNDS by ilguna [ONESHOT] [5.3K]

⇢ Finnick was beginning to believe that the damage done on you was permanent, but he had to try one more idea.

𖹭 THEY WEREN’T THE FIRST | PT.2 by fakescenarios-tohelpyousleep [TWOSHOT] [3K]

⇢ After the jabberjays it’s revealed that Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first pair to make it out of an arena alive.

𖹭 TRICK QUESTION | PT.2 by ilguna [TWOSHOT] [1.9K]

⇢ Finnick admitted you were his celebrity crush in his last interview, this year, he has something to reveal.

𖹭 TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN by ilguna [ONESHOT] [2.5K]

⇢ “Well, don’t you look glittering and gorgeous.” Finnick purrs. You scoff, raising an eyebrow, “You wish you could afford me, Odair.”

𖹭 UTTERLY IRRESISTIBLE by ilguna [ONESHOT] [2.8K]

⇢ Finnick’s been flirting with you nonstop since he’s seen you in the Capitol, and you’ve finally had enough.

𖹭 WEAVE by http-finnick [DRABBLE] [0.9K]

⇢ As you weave leaves on an empty stomach, you join finnick in hopes of getting this new group to like you. Just to find your hearing ringing and vision blurring.

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.7

pairing(s); simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, johnny 'soap' mactavish x fem!reader, kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem!reader, john 'bravo six' price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; I’m sorry john.

word count; 4.9k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

“Roba! We got a ping on captain Price near the perimeter” Vernon shoots through the door; a wary tone to match his sickly look. He watches as the chupacabra brushes his concern away, not even moving to face his form, a sly grin stretching over his mouth.

“Dragons and their Hoards. You scratch up their things and they'll walk straight into a trap.” The leader huffs a laugh while the soldier freezes at his backside. The brunette's voice raises, pitch going a few times higher than normal. The hairs on the back of his neck start to stand and all of a sudden the room is getting suspiciously warm.

“You lured him here? Roba, we’ll be annihilated, we're sitting ducks!” The man has seen his superior Price work in the field. The last thing he wanted to put on his todo list was to be on the receiving end of the Captains wrath. Brown eyes dart downwards to clawed hands; A vial of thick crimson liquid has found a temporary home in the hybrid's animalistic hold, –suddenly his voice dies out.

“...Is that blood?”

“My vampire friend, he's been experimenting. Us hybrids are all mongrels. Less concentrated offshoots of our originals. But with the right boost to the system… apparently, even a mutt can cripple a dragon.” Roba finally throws a glance at the tense man, shutting the brief case that held what must've been more viles; Vern can't really begin to care. The polo jacket collar around the girth of his neck is suddenly tight around as he swallows the lump in his throat. The leader's grin is short of sinister as he pops off the lid with a flick of his thumb.

“Get the boys packing and stay away from the courtyard. I'm plucking this thorn out of my side for good.”

💌💌💌💌

“I want it on record that I think this is a stupid Idea. You need to wait for reinforcements.” Laswell’s voice rings through the coms in Price's pointed ear. Pear colored wings stroke broadly behind him keeping him upright as he hovers over the court, his eyes scanning the perimeter a hundredth time over.

“My assigned ‘reinforcements’ went in with my lieutenants and never came back out.” He replies impertinently, eyes darting to one side even though no able body was there to receive the pointed gaze.

“Damnit John- I always hoped you'd age out of this one-man army shit.” The woman's voice rings out with a sigh dying heavy on her lips. The captain responds without missing a beat.

“They're torturing them, Laswell.” The brunette hisses like it burns him.

“...And if they're already dead?”

“Then they'll all burn.” The line dies as Price finally swoops towards the ground, landing on one knee with a thump before he stands to his full, hulking, height. He was beyond trained for scenarios like this. He’d be a liar if he said it was just because two of his best were on the line that made him take flight. It was more than that- you both were more than that. Your sudden bashfulness around him hidden under your scheduled nature; Simon's yearning need for his praise and reassurance wrapped beneath his tough skin. They’d burn hotter than hell if he didnt get to see it again.

“Roba! Let's negotiate.” His voice booms across the yard and he doesnt get to take two steps before an instinct –like a flatline with a sudden heartbeat– swipes at him harshly. His wings carry his weight as he propels up into the air, by a graze of hair missing the damaging embrace of his opposition.

“Captain Price… here for your team? You should've come with a hearse, amigo.” When the lower hybrid looks up to higher one out of two the captain can't help but cringe. Roba is twice his normal size; his shirt looks like nothing but rags on his body, the fabric torn to shreds against his skin, his pupils are blown taking up all of its iris, and one eye is squinted making the other look bigger.

“Manuel… What did you do to yourself? Where are your men?” The captain's arms still at his sides, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the leader's drunken form.

“Hah! Im freeing us both from the distraction. No more fighting with human flesh bags! Monster against monster- how it should be!” The dragon must tire from the chupacabra's speech because he swoops down, a hand on the fat of his thick neck; pinning him to the ground momentarily snarling out.

“Enough! Where the hell are my lieutenants?!” Price's hair is ruffled as he bares his fangs, patience short of thin.

“You're not listening, captain. I killed them you fool! With the help of one of your own soldiers! Your boy got a bullet between his teeth and the girl… ah she was feisty- that one. My guys ran their test… gave her a little treatment from a friend of mine; vampire down in the states and her system couldn't stand it. You should've taken a bite of them while you still could. But don't worry. Ask nicely and I'll let you lick their blood off the floor”

Price can feel himself tense as Roba goes on. His eyes are wide and there's a permanent snarl at his lips. Hearing about how you ended, smoke extinguishes out from the corner of his lips and flames spark from between his teeth as a growl brews deep in his throat.

A crash rings over the courtyard and Vern swore he could feel the ground shake beneath his feet as soldiers around him call out worriedly.

“The dragon, he's here.” One states and the brunette cant be bothered to remember who.

“Keep moving! We’ll need these supplies wherever we remake camp.” His voice booms over to the remaining soldiers who aren't already loaded up in a box truck waiting for departure. One is quick to retaliate.

“Watch it puta. We follow Roba, not you. You might be his newest rat but he eats those for breakfast.” The man is eerily mad about something the soldier can't seem to understand and he huffs, lips turned downwards as the bulkier figure walks away from him with colorful curses beneath his breath. The brunette leans against the wall, his eyes falling over your slumped figure strapped to a makeshift operation chair. The scientists were sure to take every precaution including taking their test outside for reasons he does not know. You're bruised on every surface he can see but it's worse around the poorly done IV in your arm.

There's a sudden crash through the wall bricks crumbling inches away from the mans head. Black smoke-like shadows penetrate the chest of the soldier who cursed him before, they come back up his throat and out of his mouth as a finale. The black aura busts through the truck wall tearing its side open like it was anything but a sheet of paper. Low and behold stands the blonde lieutenant in all his glory claws torn into another private’s neck.

“You-uuU” Smoke crawls out from his eyes and mouth streaking up and down the surface of his face like veins. The lights are flashing for the soldier to run; the briefcase with vials of blood clenched tightly in his hold, yet as soon as he turns the lieutenant stands before him with a hand wrapped around his neck.

“Roba. Where is he?!” Ghost roars fangs bared claws digging into Vernons Skin, making him drop the case from his hold as he chokes out a location. His head slightly cocks itself at the noise, eyes fallen on the shattered shards of glass and pool of crimson.

“Blood… that's right… wannabe bloodsucker.” The wraith forces the man to the ground, a palm stretched across the top of his overgrown buzzed head. His face hovers over the mess, palms trying to push himself up and away to no avail.

“Get your fill… fucking pathetic.” Pleas die out as a sickening crunch rings in Simon's ears; having smashed the soldier's face into the glass, the blood splattering up at the pressure. The grin on his face falls as his eyes avert to your slumped form. The blonde immediately stands from his kneeling position trailing over to you with the drag of his feet; Simon cups your cheek, clawed fingers sweeping away the curls that stick to the tacky dried blood on your face that leaks from your temple. When he notes the needle in your arm he's quick to rip it out before crumbling to his knees, his head resting in your lap. He hears the roars of Roba in the distance and it quickly makes his skin start to burn with an aching rage all over again.

“He’sss DEAD- Lovie I swear it! I'll be back for you.” The lieutenant hisses long pointed tongue darting out uncontrollably as the ground vibrates beneath him. His gaze softens as he turns and looks at your figure; lacking a heartbeat and caving into yourself. No sassy remark, no small smile, no life in your gorgeous eyes. That fucker would die.

And he will die today.

Roba escapes the heat by the skin of his teeth, the flame licking his ankle as he moves to scatter away. Price's mouth is agape, the fire that escapes from his throat is broad and burly. The leader barely dodges the captain's landing in response grabbing hold of his thick moss colored tail using it to slam him beneath his growing figure. The chupacabra curses as a flame burns bright in his face momentarily kissing the surface; barely able to recover before the brunettes' claws break the skin on his cheek with a broad slash. Quickly flipping the hybrid –despite him being twice his size– the dragon rests on his hardened back, arms wrapping around the base of his neck in a tight headlock as he squirmed beneath him.

“I'm going to gut you like a pig.” John's claws dig into the fat of Robas jugular while he growls in protest. The captain's senses scream at him again but he's too slow to react before he’s knocked into a wall by a slither of pitch black smoke.

Shadows overcome Robas figure, yanking him back against the floor until he feels himself being lifted in the air. His eyes widen at the sight –or what he can recognize– of the supposedly dead man walking. With a swipe of his hand Ghost’s claws graze the skin across the hybrid's jaw.

“You're right… I do prefer it this way” The wraith grins clutching his fingers into a fist staring down at the man who took his life. Took your life.

Took. your. Life.

“What the hell was that?” Price groans brows furrowed as he begins to pick himself up suddenly still in his place. His lieutenant stands over the man who supposedly put him six feet underground, black shadows of smoke allowing him to hover in the air wrapping around his body like a warm embrace. They seep out of his eyes and mouth, crawl up his back to his scalp; they make a home of him.

“...Simon?”

“What's wrong- feeling trapped?” He chuckles out as Roba struggles beneath him cursing fluently.

“Demon… you're a demon! You son of a whor-” The chupacabra chokes on his words growls dying while bearing his teeth as a black fist wraps around his tongue.

“Simon! …What did he do to you?” Price calls and the blonde cocks his head to stare at the dragon voidly. The brunette's face is flooded with concern and maybe beneath his frown is a swipe of pity. He suddenly hunches over into himself groaning, the blonde clutches his head irritably; shadows shoot out in retaliation one side pinning the mutt to the ground the other knocking the captain back a few feet. John grunts at the landing, going to call out to him again.

“NO! He needs to die! Stay out of my way!” The wraith pins the dragon to the floor pitch black covered hand clenching around his shoulder; the captain swallows at the grip.

“Simon, stop, your hand!” He shoots back like the touch scorns him, going back to grabbing at his blonde locs with a pained protest.

Tommys a monster-

Touch her and they won't find the piec-

Rip his tongue ou-

Vernon killed

Captain

Dead-

Ill be back for yo-

Rip his tongue out

Rip.His.Tongue.Out.

RIP HIS TONGUE OUT

“Lieutenant!” The captain takes hold of his hoard, hands cupping either side of his jaw while he stares into bitch black eyes that suddenly fades. The shadows clear behind him –not to nothing but they simmer down and Price could cry at the look recognition in his eyes.

“... John.” The older man –of the two– sighs a small grin making its way to his face that's short lived as the roar of Roba rings from behind them before his figure is dragged away. Ghost is on guard subconsciously keeping his captain behind him despite the fact Price is right on his heels as they follow the claw marks left by the chupacabra.

“You took… everything from me” Simon hears you before he sees you and when he does his heart beats potently in his chest. Doll-like cracks litter your skin; they kiss up your arms and neck, going as far to stretch across your face. Orange hues glow beneath, shining through the crevices. Your hand is outstretched in front of you and there are sparks of orange and yellow that hold the blood drunk leader to the wall before they quickly fling him across the courtyard with the flick of your wrist.

“I'm gonna KILL you! How dare you?! How dare you take a man like Simon- my Simon! I'll be the last thing you'll see! I'LL KILL YOU DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Your screech rings across the distance; The iris of your eyes burning the same color as the sparks that wrap around your arms, gaze –feral– dead set on mutt in front of you. The hybrid snarls barely getting a head start to run at you before he’s struck by arrows made up of your energy; It's pure chaos. You direct everything you possibly could throw to his form without missing a beat inching closer with the strut of your feet.

The men- Your men can't miss the dark aura that surrounds you, the dark purple veins that swarm underneath your eyes, the fangs that replace your canines, all of it. Price calls out for you and he can see your shoulder stiffen and It could be comical how both his lieutenants shared the same sinister looks when they hear his voice but, he can see how you recognized him right away; your eyes flicker between burnt orange and their original color that sucked him in all those months ago.

Roba takes the open moment to topple over and before you could retaliate, shadows of dark smoke wrap around him, tearing through the skin and bone of his bicep –the limb being cut clean off from its source– throwing his figure a few meters away. When you gather yourself to stand in a blink, Price is in front of you, his eyes gaze deep into yours and you hiss as his hand wraps around your wrists.

“They killed him! They killed Simon- he needs to die! That fucker is going to die…Get out of my way!” You bare your fangs at the dragon before your world seems to slow.

“Lovie.” Your body turns instantly at the sound and there he stands in all his glory before you, alive and well. The lieutenant.

“Simon…” The veins beneath your eye retreat as you take in a breath you didn't know you were holding. You blink once and then again, you take a step forward and just like everything in your field of work it's short lived. John is snatched away from his position and slammed into the floor.

“Roba-!!” The chupacabra tears into the span of his wing, taking the limb from the brunettes back into his sharp teeth. Roba roars about blood and you cant see the look of connection in Simons eyes –you cant see the scene of how his hand coats in the vial kept blood while he smashed his former soldiers face into the glass, how he took that same crimson cover hand and slashed it across the chupacabras face, wrapped his hand around his tongue.– all you see is your captain on his knees, pupils shrunken, brows shot up to his hairline, and mouth agape.

You drop to your knees wrapping an arm around your captain's waist lying your head on his shoulder; you can feel Simon behind you before he follows in suit, one forearm tucked beneath the armpit of his superior the other bringing you impossibly closer to them. Without missing a beat Simon makes a shield like cocoon at your backs and you take hold of the foreign energy you feel without even thinking about it. The darkly pitched shadows are littered with sparks of orange and it shoots into the roof of the chupacabra's mouth through his head and another darts through his neck.

“I'm sorry John.”

💌💌💌💌

“Laswell…” Price can feel the woman's presence without looking at her; stretched on his stomach, he can feel the absence against his back.

“John-! John, you fucking overgrown lizard-” The woman drops the clipboard she was previously looking over, the brunette shifts his head to finally meet her gaze.

“Kate.” His tone stops her rambling and she isn't given a chance to come up with something as he asks, cold cut turkey.

“It's gone, isn't it.” He knows it is. He feels it is. He doesn't ask it like a question, he says it like a statement. But it doesn't keep him from confirming.

“...I'm sorry, John. They did all they could.” He doesn't hear anything else, burying his face into the pillow with a soft huff.

💌💌💌💌

“I should've chosen my words better. When I said I wished you'd stop your one man army shticks, I didn't mean like this.” The blonde continues when the dragon hums for her to do so; finally sat upright in the shitty medbay bed. He rolls his shoulder –the side one wing still sits behind–, shifting to the edge of the cot.

“Y’know what they say about hindsight- omph!” The hybrid falls to the floor with a thud when he goes to stand, knees weak. The operator rushes to the hulking man's side, slinging his arm around her neck; lowering him back to the edge of the mattress.

“Goddamnit John, Stop! You've just had a limb torn off and you've been asleep for three days-”

“Three days? Where's Simon and Y/n?”

“Kate?!” The captain booms, voice raising when she doesn't answer quick enough for his liking.

“You need to wait. You have to trust me on this- they're safe. I won't let anything or anyone touch them. But you'll be no use to them right now. ” She holds her hand out, brows furrowed as she goes on, never taking eyes off him.

“I lose one wing and now I'm useless?!”

“No. That's not-”

“Im still a fucking dragon Laswell, dont you ever forget it! Now move-” The dragon snarls, the shakiness of his knees suddenly no longer present as he stands to his full height. He glares pointedly at the shorter woman until she finally matches his tone.

“Sit DOWN!” His pupils shrink.

“He's on a brink. You know what he is now, you know how careful we need to be. And she's- John it's bad… you lost a wing- but she lost a set. Can't get her calm enough to get treated or even run tests on her new… abilities. What will they do if the first time they see you, you can barely walk on your own? Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n were my recommendations before they were yours. Wait, John. Trust me.” The brunette lets his head fall into his hands cursing beneath his breath.

💌💌💌💌

“How are they?” Steady on his own two feet the hybrid walks alongside Laswell down the scheduled corridor where you both seemed to be kept.

“He's sitting pretty as always. Your girly hasn't moved in days. He's got one way glass, she's got something bigger” The blonde tosses her gaze over her shoulder when he stops a low growl brewing in his throat.

“They put them in a cell?!”

“He asked for it himself actually. The brass were all too happy to provide. She didn't really have much of a choice; meds slipped up and she saw you… didn't like how you were looking and she damn sure let them know it.” She continues.

“They're on edge. As a human, Simon was Reliable. Got things Done. Even Y/n as a phoenix knew her way around and didn't need much to complete a mission. Now, we might as well be sitting on timebombs. You'll be their first and last attempt to bring them to heel.” Laswell crosses her arms over her chest fighting the urge to nibble on the skin of her fingers.

“To their heel?” The man scoffs.

“I think they'll accept anything that'll make them calm down.” She tries and soothes the captain's nerves, still not moving to sugarcoat anything.

“And if I fail?”

“They depressurise his chamber, he suffocates. She gets an iron bullet to the head.”

“Like choking out flames… Keep everyone out of those rooms.” The one winged hybrid steps to a door as the woman mutters a ‘copy that.’. Watching his figure disappear into the wraith's holding room.

“Simon.” His lieutenant looks short of wrecked; his blonde locs are tousled, shadows climb up the glass of his holding chamber and make a home around his limbs, the usual whites of his eyes are pitch black and his iris’ are a piercing white. He notes how the man doesnt look up until he calls for him.

“Price. …Shouldn't have come for me.” The dragon stops himself from frowning as the wraith drops his head once more, gazing at his feet. He can practically feel the regret radiating off his shoulders.

“Wouldn't have been your captain if I hadn't.”

“I would've killed him. On my own. It would've been clean. I tried to salvage your wing but he shredded the nerves, that fucker. …You came for me and you'll never fly again” The lieutenant continues when a blanket of silence falls over the captain's shoulders. Ghost doesnt look up until he hears the voice of his superior.

“...Took me four days to learn to walk again. I still stumble. When I see this wing in the mirror, I hate it. What good is one wing for a dragon? He should’ve just taken the set. Is that what you think?” Simon snarls in protest, standing to meet the Johns gaze as he slams the door to the chamber closed, not backing down from the blondes shadow littered form.

“NO!”

“You got him for me, Simon. I read the report. Straight through the brain and neck. You hit the artery dead on. Precise. Controlled. Because that’s you, lieutenant. You're in control.” Prices tanned fist rests on the chest of Ghosts; shadows fiss over his hand, taking him in yet barely grazing a hair

“...Not always.”

“Then trust that I am. Even one wing down.” The brunette turns on his heel propping the door open for the blonde to inch out and he does.

“I want to see ‘er” The older man sighs looking over his shoulder, biting the inside of his lip.

“Trust me.” He says simply leaving the blonde with his thoughts when he nods simply.

💌💌💌💌

“Get out.” Price hears you before he sees you but it’s not long until he finds you tucked into a corner, gaze faced towards the wall. His eyes immediately look towards your back; the fresh scar that trails down your spine peaks through the gaps in the hospital gown you occupy in. You don't move to look at him, he's not totally sure you know it's him.

“I'll be sure to keep you away from welcome duty, yeah?” You barely turn your head over your shoulder at the sound of the dragon's gruff voice. He doesn't smell like himself; the notes of aftershave, gun powder, and a good cigar are muffled underneath the smell of a sterile hospital despite him being in his normal gear –a weighted brace wrapping around his shoulder to get him accustomed to the imbalanced weight–.

“You shouldn't be in here, John.” The cracks on your skin he sees everytime you go in the field to battle are still there, unusually stubborn to leave. You're in a fetal position holding your knees to your chest, chin tucked into your arms and it pinches at his heart strings at how frail you look.

“Who else would be fit enough to come if it weren't your captain?” The brunette hums, lips tucking into a frown when you don't move to acknowledge him. He takes a step forward, a soft thump following underneath his heavy boot onto the cold cement floor before kneeling to your level; his rough, calloused, hands gently land around your wrist and he holds you there as you squirm beneath him.

“Stop John! I'm going to hur-”

“Look, love! You can't hurt me; you don't want to, so you won't. You know where to focus your energy and deep down you can control-” The captain follows after you in suite, standing to his full height when you do finally manage to rip away from him.

“You don't understand! You don't understand how it feels for something you can't control to grow in you every passing minute!” Your voice is short of a sob, your arms wrapped around your torso in a self-hug as you dart across the small room, anything to get away. John breathes in for a beat, listening to your raw voice that usually pooled like honey. There's veins crawling underneath your eyes and when you open your mouth wide enough he can see the sharp ends of your teeth.

“W-when he took my wings… he took all of me. I can't ground myself anymore, it feels like a fire spreading in me and the only thing I have to put it out is lighter fluid! I'm nothing, without my wings… I'm nothing.” You don't quite recognize when you start to cry until you can't stop, your shoulder wrack with sobs and exhaustion. There's a dull ache in your head, a plethora of things leading up to the factor. Your ears ring and you know your senses are dull as Price makes two broad steps across the room to reach you. His arms engulf you whole and you allow your figure to fall into him.

“You're more than anything. There’s no way anyone can convince me you haven't hung the stars in the sky; so I know not only as your captain, but as your suitor… that you'll overcome this and I'll be there with you, every step.” The dragon's chin is tucked into your head while his shirt catches the overflow of your tears; he takes your chin in his clawed hand, tilting your head to meet his gaze. He never takes his eyes off you; maybe if you looked in his eyes hard enough you could see how much he meant it.

“What if I can't do it?”

“Then I'll still be there, watching you make constellations connect.”

💌💌💌💌

*present day*

“You arent askin’ for permission so I won't give you any. But you know where I stand and we both know going cold turkey isn't working long term.” Price adverts his gaze to Ghost, his mask hiked above the bridge of his nose as he huffs in a breath of tobacco; his gloves are absent from his hands, shadows crawl up his forearms fading out at the peak of his elbow. The dragon's lips inch upwards around his lug at the sight.

“So what, I should let my hair out and frolic?”

“Always thought you were the spitting image of Julie Andrews.”

“Fuck off.”

“She's sharp, Simon. Picks up on things. You know and I know that better than anybody. And Johnny-” The brunette gathers himself up, crushing his cigar underneath his boot when he stands. The blonde finally looks to his superior questioning his choice of name for the mohawked sergeant.

“-Mactavish doesn't take kindly to people making decisions for him. Give it a chance.” He rebuttals sassily before continuing on turning on his heel to depart.

“You should take your own advice about Y/l/n.” The paler man of the two calls out stopping the tanner one in his tracks; he grins softly, gazing over his shoulder.

“Am I that transparent?”

“You've always had your favorites.” The skull wearing lieutenant pulls the black cloth over the remaining open surface of his face, not moving to look towards the captain.

“Don't pout, not after the conversation we just had. You know she's always been a different situation. I know how I'm going about the pup licking at her ankles but, seems you need more time to debrief.” John hums, fingers pushing his unbuttoned collar even more open before the pads of his fingertips graze across the mate mark on his collarbone. The blonde itches to touch his own at his shoulder blade.

“There's a meeting at 07:00 tomorrow, be there. And make nice with the vaqueros .” The dragon continues on his journey while the wraith grunts in response.

He’d see about that.

💌💌💌💌

posting every 3-5 days she says🌝

forgive me my shayla’s 💔

the semester is over and i can breathe again

i think i’m gonna explain lore down here in the next chapters

umm don’t we love Simon, Price, and Deity’s love story ^.^

my hyper fixation is chasin chaos right now i feel like i can’t write anything else >:(

i think this chapter took me the shortest amount of time despite being one of the longest so far

[dreameyess11]

blah, blah, blah....shut up

Dante Sparda x Reader

You step into the dimly lit cathedral, boots clicking against the cracked stone floor. Shadows stretch long and jagged across the decrepit walls, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through shattered stained glass windows. You know he's here. You always do. The air carries that familiar charge—like lightning waiting to strike.

And then, he speaks.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite thorn in the side. Couldn’t stay away, could you?"

The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, comes from the darkness above. Dante Sparda. That smirk of his practically audible even before you see his face.

You tilt your head slightly, fingers tightening around your weapon. "You’re the one who makes this whole 'hero of humanity' thing a lot more interesting. Couldn't resist the urge to see me again?"

A slow clap echoes through the cathedral as he steps out of the shadows. That cocky strut of his, the way his crimson coat flares behind him—it’s maddening how he makes the line between charm and arrogance blur. His silver hair glints in the pale light, and his mismatched eyes, one blue and one crimson, are locked on you.

"You’ve got a way with words," he drawls, stopping a few feet from you, Rebellion slung lazily over his shoulder. "Too bad I’ll have to cut this poetry slam short."

You roll your eyes, though your lips twitch in a smirk of their own. "Big talk from someone who’s never managed to land a killing blow."

He chuckles at that, low and rich, the sound curling around you like smoke. "You’d miss me too much if I did." He leans forward just slightly, tilting his head. "Tell me, sweetheart, what keeps bringing you back? The thrill? The chase? Or…" He flashes you a grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Is it me?"

Your stomach twists, and not in the way you’d like to admit. His arrogance is insufferable, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t light a fire under your skin. Still, you’re not about to give him the satisfaction.

"You’re delusional," you retort, stepping closer, daring him to close the gap. "But if you must know, I like keeping my enemies alive. Makes the victories more satisfying."

He hums thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping over you, unabashed and brazen. "Oh, I bet you do."

You scoff, but there’s heat rising to your cheeks, and you hate how he notices. He always does. His grin only widens, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s teasing you just to throw you off your game—or if he really means it. Either way, it works.

"You done yet?" you snap, raising your weapon, the blade gleaming as it catches the faint light. "Or are you just stalling because you know you’re going to lose?"

Dante’s eyes light up with that familiar spark of reckless excitement, and he lifts Rebellion, pointing it lazily at you. "Oh, I’m just getting started, babe."

And then he’s on you, a whirlwind of steel and smirks, the clash of your blades ringing out through the cathedral. He fights like he talks—bold, unpredictable, and maddeningly confident. Every strike you throw is met with a counter, every feint answered with a cocky remark that makes you want to punch that smirk off his face.

But there’s something about the way he moves, the way he watches you, that keeps you from hating him entirely. His eyes burn with more than just battle lust; they hold something else, something you can’t quite put into words. And damn it, you’re starting to think he knows it too.

He locks your blade with his, faces inches apart, his breath warm against your skin. "Admit it," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "You’re having fun."

You glare at him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. "Shut up."

He laughs, leaning in just a fraction closer. "You’ll miss me when I’m gone."

You don’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you shove him back with a growl, your blade flashing as you press the attack. His grin only widens, and for a fleeting moment, you think you see a flicker of something genuine behind his cocky facade.

[the-upside-down-umbrella]

Partners? Partners.

Chapter 2

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

(Part 2/?)

Summary: Y/N Hargreeves, formerly of the Sparrow Academy, finds herself virtually alone in the reset timeline. The Umbrella’s bring her in to their chaos and she builds something new for herself while still navigating the grief of losing her family. She’s happy in the simplicity. That is, until the one Hargreeves she can’t seem to win over comes to her with an offer she might not be able to refuse.

——————

He showed up at the exact same time the next morning, taking his usual spot at the window.

“Your boyfriend is here,” her coworker, Leah, teased. “Like clockwork, that one. He must really like you.”

“He likes to piss me off, that’s what he likes,” Y/N grumbled. “And he’s not my boyfriend, Leah. I’d liken him more to a thorn in my side.”

“Whatever you say,” Leah grinned, “But I’m pretty sure that boy is in looooove with you.”

“Stop.”

She excused herself from the counter and made her way over to him, a cup of coffee and a donut in hand. She sat it down in front of him before taking the seat across from him again, folding her hands in front of her, “Good morning, Five.”

“Y/N,” he nodded, picking up the donut and taking a generous bite, “I told you I’d be back.”

“And here you are.”

“And here I am.”

She studied him for a moment, watching as he thumbed away a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. Was she really considering working with him? Could she really stand spending more than a handful of minutes in the day near him? He was infuriating.

“Are you going to dinner at Lila and Diego’s tomorrow?” She questioned him, completely avoiding what she knows he wants to hear.

“You mean our birthday dinner? I am. Are you?”

“Of course I am,” she said, “I never miss family dinner.”

She was just happy to be included. She loved any excuse to be around the other Hargreeves. The fact that they all shared a birthday and now celebrated it together as a group was something she looked forward to every year.

“Maybe we can ride together,” he suggested casually, “I know you usually take the bus, but I just got a new car. I might as well put it to use.”

“What, so you can pester me in a place I can’t escape from?” She jested, only half joking.

“You and I both know you’re not above jumping out of a moving car, so I’d say you’re pretty safe.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she couldn’t help the small smile that played at the corners of her mouth. He was joking with her and she liked it.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, staring at each other as they waited for one of them to make the next move.

“Fine,” she relented, “I get off at four tomorrow. We can leave from here.”

“Your chariot will await.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m saying yes to the other thing, Five.”

“We’ll see,” he shrugged, “I can be pretty persuasive.”

___

The bell above the door tinkled and she knew it was him before she even looked up. She could feel his eyes on her but this time he didn’t make his way over to his usual table, but came directly to the counter. He stopped in front of her, grinning. How very un-Five like.

“It’s not even four,” she told him.

“I know, but I have something to drop off and I need a cup of coffee.”

In his hands was a messily wrapped package, adorned with a lopsided bow. He slid it across the counter towards her and she peered down at it in confusion.

“What’s this?”

“A bomb,” he said sarcastically, “What does it look like? It’s a gift. Happy Birthday.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

He rolled his eyes at her, “As if I care about that. Just open it, will you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him but complied anyways, peeling back the paper to find a small brown box. Nestled inside was a plain, white mug with ‘world’s best barista’ scrawled across it in block script font. It was incredibly basic and probably one of the best gifts she’s ever received.

She laughed heartily, turning it in her hands. It was the most Five thing he could have given her and yet, she loved it.

“And I mean it,” he said sincerely, “you really are the world’s best barista.”

“Thank you, Five,” she gushed, truly moved by the gift in her hands, “I love it.”

“I aim to please,” his words were soft, laced with something she couldn’t quite place.

Nodding at her, he went to take his place near the window. Her heart was a fluttery mess in her chest and she chastised herself for the school girl behavior. This was Five she was thinking about. Infuriating, pragmatic, Five.

She plucked his usual donut from the case, but this time she added a special adornment.

“Do you have a lighter, Leah?” She asked her friend, who she knew smoked on the down-low during her breaks.

“Is that a candle?” Leah asked, completely ignoring her question, “A birthday donut?”

“We share a birthday,” Y/N explained, “Now, do you have a lighter or not?”

“You share a birthday?” Leah squealed, “well isn’t that some true soulmate shit!”

“Oh, Lee, you don’t even know the half of it.”

Leah reached in to her back pocket and pulled out a hot pink lighter, igniting it and lighting the candle for her, “Now go charm your lover boy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Y/N chastised her, covering the flame with her hand as she made her way over to Five.

He looked up at her, surprise flashing across his face and lighting up his eyes as she placed the donut on the table in between them, “Happy Birthday, Five.”

“Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes locking with hers, setting her face aflame at the intensity in his gaze.

They both leaned forward at the same time and released a puff of air that extinguished the flame. He smiled warmly at her and picked up the donut, removing the candle and taking a hearty bite.

“I realized that I do have a gift for you,” she told him, “a gift in the form of an answer to your question.”

He leaned forward in anticipation, donut forgotten.

“I’ll join you at the CIA. I still think it’s ridiculous and there’s no way we’ll get away with lying, but I’m willing to try. But I’ll let you know right now that if it all goes south, I’m throwing you under the bus, sir.”

He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, “I would expect nothing less.”

“I’ll need to give them my notice here, so I’ll need a few weeks,” she added, “I don’t want to leave them in the lurch.”

“Understood,” he said, “I’ll need that time to get the paperwork situation figured out anyways.”

“Okay then, I guess that’s settled. Just…don’t make me regret this, Five.” She warned.

“Y/N, I promise you that I’ll make sure you never regret saying yes.”