#≏ a flash of insight. (replies)

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[inkmonster21]

I Don’t Play Anymore

Hwang In-Ho / Frontman x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

As the daughter of the American Frontman, your life takes an unexpected turn as you accompany him to South Korea, to witness the 33rd Annual Squid Games. Being a spectator to the violent events unfolds, and you find yourself unexpectedly connecting with the Frontman.

01. Red Light, Green Light

The American Frontman had traveled to Korea with a purpose: to observe and learn from the infamous underground games. He wanted to gather as much knowledge as possible, so he could translate those elements into the games hosted in the United States.

He was a sharp, cunning individual, drawn to the spectacle of carefully crafted games that challenged people's wits, morals, and will to survive.

The American game maker, accompanied by a small security team and his daughter, boarded the boat that would take them to the remote island where the games took place.

You were well-acquainted with the concept of these games, having experienced firsthand the high-stakes thrill of your father's smaller-scale games. These events, limited to no more than 50 players, unfolded at a rapid pace, often concluding in just one day.

The games held a dark legacy within your family, a tradition passed down through generations. You had participated in the games four years ago, and emerged victorious, a title that filled you with both accomplishment and guilt. Your father, the current game master, was proud, carrying on a legacy started by your great-grandfather. The competition held its price - the cost of taking lives - but the thrill and satisfaction of victory outweighed any lingering doubts and remorse.

You were accompanying your father on a journey to the annual games held in Korea. This trip was more than just a spectator's view; it was an opportunity for both of you to learn and gain insights from the complex and ruthless games that unfolded on foreign soil.

The boat swayed and rocked as it navigated through the waves, and you gripped the railing tightly, a mix of annoyance and slight unease present on your face. You had never been fond of boats, finding the continuous motion and the vast expanse of water beneath you unsettling.

Frustration tinged your voice as you raised your phone, attempting to catch a single bar of service. The signal was weak, barely catching the faintest hint of a connection.

"I can't even get a single bar out here!" you exclaimed, the lack of reception leaving you disconnected from the world.

Your father, observant as always, shifted his gaze towards you. His expression was serious, and he spoke calmly.

"Do you really need it anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow, subtly questioning the need for constant connection and the distraction that technology often provided.

You nodded in response, your response coming out in a confident tone.

"Um, yes. Anderson said he was going to send the address of his friends' club. There's supposed to be a big party, and I can not miss that."

Your father's face remained impassive, but a small flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes at your eagerness for the party.

Your father chuckled, “maybe you can make some new friends, tell them about the good opportunities we could offer,” a hint of amusement in his tone. However, your reply, about friendships being cut short by the nature of your upbringing, carried a touch of bitterness.

"Yeah, and then have them killed. I swear I haven't had a friendship longer than 2 years because of you assholes." Your voice held a mix of frustration and resignation.

Your father's response was curt, and he reprimanded you harshly. "That 'asshole' paid for the Louboutins you're standing in," he scoffed. "I'd fix that attitude before we arrive. You don't want to make me look bad here, (y/n)."

His words held a mix of authority and warning, subtly reminding you to maintain decorum and uphold the family reputation.

As the boat neared the island, your father's head of security handed him a black crystal mask, shaped with the features of the mythical jackalope, adorned with its own set of black shimmering jeweled horns. The mask was a masterpiece, exuding a sense of power and exclusivity.

Your father's head of security handed you a smaller, more delicate mask, its design resembling an innocent rabbit compared to the intimidating jackalope. You looked at the mask with a hint of disdain, a scoff escaping your lips.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" you asked, your tone tinged with a mix of stubbornness and skepticism. Your father's tone was terse, his words simple yet commanding. "Wear it," he instructed firmly, his gaze unwavering. Without hesitation, he placed the black jeweled mask onto his own face, the mask accentuating his features in an eerie way.

With a reluctant sigh, you followed suit, slipping on the elegant black jeweled rabbit mask. The coolness of the metal against your skin sent a faint shiver down your spine. The intricate design of the mask felt both elegant and concealing, a subtle reminder of the event you were about to become a part of.

The black masks placed on the security men's faces only heightened your sense of unease, solidifying the gravity of the situation. The cold realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of regret. A whisper of doubt echoed in your mind, questioning whether staying home would have been a wiser choice. The island loomed ahead, a silent harbinger of the events yet to unfold.

As the boat neared the island, your father's tone held a tinge of seriousness, his words a stern command.

"I want you to pay attention to these games," he stated firmly, his gaze firm. "Observe the players, observe their responses, and see what makes the mind break." The stern words of your father echoed in your mind, his authority unwavering. "Yes, father," you responded, a mix of obedience and reluctance in your voice.

The boat docked, the path ahead uneven and treacherous, especially given the choice of footwear you wore. The path was clearly unwalked and unsteady, making it difficult for you to navigate properly. As you cautiously made your way along the path, you stumbled upon a seemingly invisible hatch door, hidden from prying eyes. The head of security stepped forward, punching in a code and signaling to a hidden camera. The hatch door slowly creaked open, revealing a descending staircase.

As the hatch door opened, you were met with the sight of a man dressed in a striking pink jumpsuit, his mask featuring a distinctive square shape. Behind him were an entourage of four pink-masked guards, each adorning black masks lined with triangles. The contrast of the bright colours and masks against the dim lighting of the stairwell created an atmosphere of surrealism and foreboding.

The head of security's words cut through the silence, his tone low and guarded.

"These are the American game makers," he spoke, his voice holding a mix of neutrality and wariness. "They've been anticipating their arrival."

The man in the pink jumpsuit responded in a simple, yet eerie tone that sent a chill down your spine.

"Yes," he said simply, "please, follow me." Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and began walking down the dimly lit stairwell, his guards falling into a precise formation behind him.

As you followed the pink-suited man up the staircase, you couldn't help but observe the surroundings, taking in the bright colors and cheerful décor. The room was intentionally designed to appear playful and pleasant, a stark contrast to the darkness and mystery that shrouded the truth.

You were led towards a pair of imposing double doors, their golden handles gleaming beneath the lights. The pink-suited man stepped inside, his voice carrying a respect and formality. "Sir, the American game maker has arrived," he announced, his words carrying a weight of significance. The doors opened wider, revealing a grand room.

As you entered the grand room, your gaze fell upon the imposing figure across from you - a man clad in a sharp black suit, his distinctive black mask adorned with a hood. His presence immediately commanded attention and respect, and you couldn't help but make the connection - this must be the Frontman, the counterpart to your father's role.

Your father stepped forward and introduced himself to the Frontman, ignoring your presence. You were not the focus here; you were merely a spectator, a silent observer, your importance seemingly diminished. The sense of insignificance gnawed at you, but you remained composed, maintaining a stoic expression as you watched the encounter unfold.

The Frontman spoke, his voice authoritative and confident. "It is a pleasure to have you witness our 33rd Annual Squid Games," he echoed with a practiced smile, his gaze fixed on your father.

The words echoed in the grand room, a stark reminder of the gravity and spectacle of the events about to unfold - the annual game where lives were on the line, and the consequences were severe.

Your phone buzzed, interrupting the tense atmosphere. With a pleased smile, you reached into your purse and retrieved the device. As you sat down on one of the couches lining the wall, you muttered, "Finally," under your breath. Despite the gravity of the occasion, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the distraction, grateful for a moment of respite from the tension.

You scrolled through the texts from your friends, their pleas for glamourous pictures from your vacation with your father only fueled your growing urge to break away and explore. As you glanced up, observing the room and the ongoing conversation, you weighed the option of sneaking out to indulge in something exciting of your own.

Just as you stood, preparing to casually leave the room, your father called out to you, his command firm and unwavering.

"Sit," he ordered, his voice stern. You froze in your tracks, the words reverberating in your mind. Your desire to step away and explore was abruptly brought to a halt by his authoritarian command.

“I’m just going to go-,” The click of the gun echoed in the room, causing you to halt your words. Your father's stern glare and the sight of him pointing the pistol at you filled you with a mix of fear and resignation. You reluctantly walked to the designated chair diagonally across from him and sat down, your eyes locked on the gun. It was a tactic he had used before, but it never failed to send a wave of fear through you, reminding you of the consequences of disobedience.

Despite being his daughter, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that your father wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The tension in the room was palpable, and the cold, unwavering gaze of the gun sent chills down your spine.

You muttered your apology, the words leaving your lips with a mixture of guilt and resignation. Your father's glare softened slightly as he lowered the pistol, a hint of acknowledgment in his eyes. He said nothing, merely giving a subtle nod, acknowledging your apology but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

Your father turned his attention back to the Frontman, continuing the conversation with a casual tone.

"Kids," he remarked nonchalantly, referring to you with a subtle nod in your direction. "They can be quite a handful." You remained still in your seat, trying to blend into the background, silently absorbing the words exchanged between your father and the Frontman.

As the Frontman stared at you, his masked gaze fixed upon you, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of acknowledgment. His gesture, the slight tilt of his head, conveyed a silent curiosity. Without fully understanding why, you responded with a subtle nod of your own, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

The Frontman's curiosity grew as he observed you, his masked gaze now filled with deeper intrigue. There was a hint of concern beneath the hard exterior, a subtle indication of his genuine interest in your well-being. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but there was an undeniable pull to ensure your safety and comfort.

The Frontman broke the silence, offering a gesture of hospitality. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, his voice calm yet with a touch of formality. The offer seemed almost casual, a small gesture amidst the tense atmosphere, but the underlying purpose remained clear - to maintain control and ensure everyone was comfortable while the games began.

With a grateful nod, you accepted the Frontman's offer of a drink. The nerves were building within you, and the thought of numbing the tension even slightly was enticing.

"Please," you replied, your voice carrying a mix of relief and anticipation, while your father remained stoic in his seat, observing the interaction with a guarded expression.

The guards moved swiftly and efficiently, providing you with a drink with remarkable speed. You couldn't help but appreciate the efficiency and the thoughtfulness of the gesture, offering a small nod to convey your gratitude, your smile tinged with a hint of tension. Your father watched the exchange with a guarded expression, his eyes scrutinizing every move you made, observing your every reaction.

The moment had arrived. The games were about to commence, and the first event was set to be red light, green light. A seemingly simple premise, yet the tension and anticipation hung heavily in the air. The atmosphere seemed charged with anticipation and the potential for both triumph and defeat.

As the screen lit up, the scene unfolded before your eyes. The field of players, clad in green tracksuits, moved forward, their movements slow and measured as they explored their surroundings. Their attention was immediately drawn to the large doll stationed at the far end, a sight that both captivated and unnerved.

The calm and cheerful voice echoed through the field, issuing the directive.

"Please stand behind the white line drawn on the field," it repeated, the words resonating in the air. "Once again, will all players please stand behind the white line and await further instructions."

The players, dressed in green tracksuits, stood in a line behind the white line, seemingly unaware of the danger that loomed ahead. They followed the instructions with obedience, showing no signs of comprehending the true nature of the games they had willingly entered. There was a sense of blind trust, oblivious to the impending chaos and violence that awaited them.

The phone on the small table beside you rang abruptly, catching your attention. The Frontman moved closer, answering the call with a sense of authority. "This is the Frontman speaking," he said, his voice carrying a confident yet somewhat chilling tone. "We can begin now," he confirmed.

The Frontman took his seat beside you, maintaining a respectful yet noticeable distance between you. However, you couldn't help but feel a subtle sense of unease as you felt his gaze on the small parts of your face that were left uncovered by the mask. There was an intensity to his gaze that felt almost disquieting, a mix of curiosity and observation, his eyes seemingly taking in every detail of your features.

The Voice's tone carried a blend of cheerfulness and authority, as it instructed the players on the imminent event.

"You will be playing Red Light, Green Light," the voice announced, a tone of gleeful anticipation evident in its words. The players, dressed in green, stood still, their expressions a mix of anticipation and tension, their eyes focused on the voice coming through the speakers.

The rules of the game were explained with a strange blend of innocence and coldness.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light,' stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone maintaining a mix of childlike playfulness and the harsh reality of the consequences they faced.

The voice continued, outlining the rules of the game with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Those players who cross the finish line without being eliminated within the five-minute playtime will pass this round," it explained. There was a pause, a dramatic moment of anticipation, before the voice concluded, "With that, let the game begin." As the words echoed in the air, the players braced themselves, the tension palpable.

The doll, with its childlike voice, issued the first command.

"Green light," it declared, its voice a mix of innocence and underlying menace. With those words, the game officially commenced. As the game began, a few players eagerly surged forward, attempting to make progress toward the finish line.

In an instant, the tension heightened as the voice announced, "Red light." The players, who had been moving forward, came to an abrupt stop, frozen in their tracks, their bodies gitty with anticipation.

You couldn't help but tense up at the sudden sound of a gunshot, the gunshot breaking the tense silence, causing your body to flinch involuntarily.

The voice, cold and unforgiving, announced the first casualty of the game. "Player 324. Eliminated."

The players, engrossed in the game, had yet to fully comprehend the true nature and danger of the situation. Despite the gunshot, most of them were still caught up in the excitement of the competition, their attention focused on the doll and the race to the finish line. The reality of the violence and life-or-death stakes hadn't fully sunk in for many participants.

As one player finally looked down at his dying friend, the reality and gravity of the situation became undeniable. Fear shot through their eyes, and realization dawned on their face. The cheerful facade shattered as they faced the brutal truth of the game's nature, a truth that left them shaken to the core. It was a moment of sobering clarity, the illusion of a simple game evaporating before their very eyes.

The chaos unfolded as panicked players rushed to the entrance doors, desperately trying to flee. However, their efforts were futile as one by one, they were shot by the hidden snipers in the walls.

The voice echoed through the loudspeakers once again, repeating the rules of the game with a chilling precision.

The remaining players, shaken and terrified, listened intently as the rules were reiterated, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light' and stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone cold and methodical.

Your father, visibly engrossed in the spectacle, couldn't contain his excitement. "Amazing first choice," he chuckled, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and enthusiasm. "We simply can't do it yet. We need more players on sight. But this is amazing!" His words showcased the twisted nature of the games and the satisfaction the game makers derived from the chaos and bloodshed.

Your father turned his gaze to you, seeking your opinion on the unfolding events. "What do you think, (y/n)?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone, as though he was eager to gauge your reaction to the unfolding spectacle.

Your words came out in a matter-of-fact tone, the practical aspect of the situation evident in your response.

"It's the best choice for the first game," you stated, a sense of realism lacing your words. "It gets rid of the mass amount of players and shows them the outcome if they don't listen. It's practical." Your father seemed pleased with your assessment, a subtle nod indicating his agreement and approval of your observation.

The Frontman, listening to your words, couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your practicality and realistic approach. He appreciated the way you had analyzed the situation and made a rational observation. In a world where brutal violence was the norm, your sensible view stood out, and he respected it quietly.

The game continued, the voice's cold instructions echoing through the field as players met their fate. Each round of "Red Light" brought a new wave of eliminations, the remaining players trembling in fear and uncertainty. The game was a deadly, ruthless spectacle, leaving the players in a state of constant tension and anxiety.

Your attention was drawn to the small figurine band that came to life, playing a gentle tune. As "Fly Me to the Moon" filled the room, you turned to the Frontman, a surprised smile gracing your face.

The Frontman's gesture took you by surprise, his action a mix of playfulness and unexpected charm amidst the cold, violent world of the games.

Despite the tense atmosphere, the Frontman's decision to play "Fly Me to the Moon" softened the mood slightly. As the song played, you crossed your legs, your voice carrying a slight tone of contentment.

"I like this song," you remarked, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The Frontman's eyes flickered, his gaze briefly meeting yours, as he acknowledged your comment. There was a subtle sense of understanding in his gaze, a glimpse of a shared appreciation for the song that created a brief moment of connection between you two.

The moment of connection and shared appreciation between you and the Frontman provided a sliver of hope that this trip could indeed become more enjoyable than you had initially anticipated. The games were still unfolding, and the tension in the room lingered, but there was a hint of warmth in the air.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

[andy-15-07]

Hii good morning! Would you like to write anything smut for Javier Peña or any other Pedro's character you like? Thankss

The Allure of the Night

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2334 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The dim light of the bar cast long shadows, painting the scene in hues of amber and gold. Javier Peña nursed his drink, the ice clinking softly in the otherwise quiet space. He watched as you moved across the room, a vibrant splash of color in the muted atmosphere. Your laughter, light and unrestrained, drifted over to him, and he found himself smiling despite the weight of the day. He’d known you for… how long had it been now? Long enough to know the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you were truly amused, long enough to know the comfort of your presence amidst the chaos that was his life.

You reached his table, a playful glint in your eyes. “Javier. You look like you’re contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

He chuckled, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. “Just thinking about how much trouble one woman can cause.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “And what trouble have I caused, Agent Peña?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “The usual. Disrupting the peace, corrupting my morals…”

“Your morals were already corrupt, Javier,” you retorted, sliding into the chair. “I just helped you embrace it.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “That you did. That you did.” He signaled the bartender for another drink. “So, what brings you out tonight? Besides the irresistible allure of my company, of course.”

“You wound me, Javier,” you said, feigning hurt. “Your company is always a draw. But I actually came to hear about your latest escapades. Anything exciting happening in the world of drug cartels and international intrigue?”

Javier’s smile faded slightly. “Same old, same old. Cat and mouse. Except sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s the cat and who’s the mouse.” He swirled the ice in his glass. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated seems to be your specialty,” you said softly. You reached out and covered his hand with yours, the simple gesture grounding him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, Javier.”

He looked at your hand on his, the warmth of your touch a welcome contrast to the coldness of the metal. “I know,” he said, his voice rough. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

The conversation flowed easily between them, a comfortable mix of banter and shared confidences. They talked about the case, the frustrations, the small victories that kept him going. You listened patiently, offering insightful comments and a sympathetic ear. You understood his world, not because you were a part of it, but because you understood him.

As the night deepened, the bar emptied, leaving only a handful of patrons. Javier and you remained, lost in your own little world. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, a familiar dance of attraction and hesitation. You both knew where this could lead, where it usually led, but neither of you dared to break the comfortable rhythm.

Finally, Javier leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “You know,” he said, his voice low and husky, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, this sounds dangerous,” you teased. “Javier Peña thinking.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Dangerous is my middle name. Or it should be. Anyway, I was thinking… about how much I enjoy your company.”

“Is that so?” you purred, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes tracing the curve of your jawline. “I do. You’re… you’re good for me.”

“And you’re good for me,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. A spark ignited, a familiar flame that flickered to life between them. He pulled your hand towards him, his touch surprisingly gentle. You didn’t resist.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire.

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. He met you halfway, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, a heady mix of sandalwood and something distinctly Javier. You tilted your head back, offering him your lips.

His kiss was slow and deliberate, a探求 touch that ignited a fire within you. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of a connection that ran deeper than either of you were willing to admit. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a moment of shared passion. The bar, the case, the complications of his life… all of it disappeared, replaced by the intensity of his touch, the heat of his kiss.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. “Come home with me,” he whispered.

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathed.

The drive back to his apartment was a blur. Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with anticipation. When they arrived, Javier unlocked the door and ushered you inside. The apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside.

He turned to you, his eyes burning with intensity. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

You blushed, the compliment warming you from the inside out. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He kissed you again, a kiss that was filled with a desperate longing. His hands moved over your body, exploring the curves and contours you knew so well.

He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with unspoken promises. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the world. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a raw desire that made your breath catch in your throat.

He reached out and began to unbutton your shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly. You met his gaze, your own heart pounding in your chest. He undressed you slowly, savoring every moment. You did the same for him, your fingers trembling slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He pulled you close, his body pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard muscles beneath his skin. He kissed you again, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. He carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours.

He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, your chest. He explored every inch of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You moaned softly, your hands tangling in his hair.

He moved lower, his lips brushing against your skin. You arched your back, your breath catching in your throat. He continued his exploration, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you.

He finally entered you, his movements slow and deliberate. You gasped, your body tightening around him. He paused, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes.”

He began to move, his pace quickening. You met his rhythm, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The world dissolved, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion. You cried out his name, your voice filled with a desperate longing. He answered you with a groan, his body shuddering as he reached his climax.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You held him close, your fingers stroking his hair. The silence was broken only by the sound of your breathing, the beating of your hearts.

He finally rolled over, pulling you with him. He held you close, his arm wrapped around you protectively. You snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that lulled you to sleep.

The morning light streamed through the window, waking you gently. You stretched, your body feeling pleasantly sore. You turned to find Javier sleeping soundly beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful. You smiled, a feeling of warmth spreading through you. You reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you replied.

He pulled you closer, his arm tightening around you. He kissed you softly, a lingering kiss that spoke of affection and tenderness. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you replied, snuggling against him.

The dim silence of the early morning had given way to a warm glow as you slowly stirred beside Javier. The memory of last night’s fierce passion still shimmered in the quiet air of his bedroom. Your body felt pleasantly tender and alive with anticipation for what the morning might bring. As you shifted on the rumpled sheets, Javier’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep but quickly brightening at the sight of you.

“Good morning,” he murmured in a husky tone, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare arm. His voice carried a mix of lingering desire and a promise of more.

“Good morning,” you replied, a teasing smile curving your lips. “I was hoping we’d have a few more moments like last night.”

Javier’s gaze darkened with need as he shifted closer. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. “Tell me, do you want to taste me… again?”

The question, spoken with both vulnerability and raw passion, sent a shiver through you. You slid your hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. “I want every bit of you, Javier. Let’s not hold back.”

In that intimate, sunlit haze, the roles of giver and receiver blurred in a dance as old as desire itself. Javier was the first to act—his lips trailing heated kisses along your collarbone before softly biting at your skin, eliciting a quiet moan from you. You arched into his touch, your body inviting his exploration. With deliberate care, he began unfastening the delicate straps of your lingerie, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the warm skin revealed with each freed inch.

Moments later, you took control, shifting so that your eyes met his in a silent exchange of mutual invitation. “Now it’s my turn,” you said breathlessly. You slowly slid off the top of his loose T-shirt, your hands exploring the hard planes of his torso. Your fingertips grazed over the sensitive skin of his chest, drawing a low groan as you trailed kisses downward, savoring the subtle saltiness of his skin.

Before long, you found yourself kneeling between his thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. The raw desire in his gaze spurred you on as you began to tease him with gentle, exploratory kisses along the inside of his thigh. His hand threaded through your hair as his breath grew ragged, his murmurs mingling with the soft sounds of your ministrations. You took your time, letting each kiss and soft lick build the intensity between you. When you finally moved closer, your warm mouth enveloped him; every deliberate stroke of your tongue was a pledge of your shared passion.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hands resting on your head to guide your movements. His pleasure was as evident as the way his body responded to your every touch, and soon you both were caught in an intoxicating rhythm of mutual giving.

But the intimacy did not stop there. As the taste of desire and satisfaction mingled with the soft light of morning, Javier shifted his focus. With a gentle yet commanding look, he guided you so that you lay back, your body exposed in a vulnerable yet empowered state. “Now, let me show you how much I crave you,” he whispered.

Rising to his knees, he began his own exploration, his tongue tracing patterns along your inner thigh before finally reaching the most sensitive places. Every touch, every flicker of his tongue, brought soft gasps and the quickening of your breath. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure built inside you. In the quiet intimacy of that morning, you were both performers in a delicate, passionate duet, each act of oral caressing the other as much as it filled you with need.

Between whispered words and the music of soft moans, you exchanged playful, heated dialogue. “You taste even better than I remembered,” Javier murmured as you both took turns exploring each other’s most intimate parts. “I love hearing you moan, knowing that every inch of you is mine,” he said, his voice low and filled with adoration.

“You make me feel alive,” you responded, your words punctuated by another soft moan as he switched back to you, ensuring that every bit of desire was both given and received. The raw energy of your morning encounter was as wild as it was tender—a true celebration of trust, passion, and the magnetic pull that drew you both together time and again.

As your bodies reached a blissful crescendo, the lines between giving and receiving blurred until you were both lost in a haze of mutual ecstasy. In the aftermath, breathless and spent, you lay entwined in each other’s arms, the quiet of the morning punctuated only by soft, contented sighs. The passion of the night had transformed into a gentle, lingering tenderness as you both savored the afterglow.

In that sacred space of shared vulnerability, you knew without words that this was more than just a physical connection—it was an affirmation of the depth of your desire, trust, and the unspoken promise of many more mornings filled with both wild abandon and tender intimacy.

[prythianpages]

There She Goes | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: You're determined to help Cassian find love. It is your specialty, after all. But Cassian finds himself falling for you.

warnings: none? this is fluff, I guess?

a/n: Though this is part of a series, it can be read as a stand-alone. Jumping a little ahead here to established friends (:

Cassian and Azriel strolled through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, the familiar warmth of the city wrapping around them like a comforting embrace after their trip to Windhaven. As they passed by the bakery, the irresistible aroma of freshly baked goods wafted out, tempting them and slowing their steps. 

"Well, since we're passing by, we might as well indulge. " Cassian said, flashing a grin at Azriel.

“Support our local businesses.” Azriel nodded his head in agreement, mirroring his grin as if they had not purposely taken the longer path back to the town house. His shadows wrapped around the shop’s door handle, pulling it open and he gestured for Cassian to step inside first.

Cassian’s eyes lit up at the sight of the display case filled with pastries, his stomach rumbling in response. There was so much to choose from—from savory to sweet—and he craved both. But then his gaze fell on the heart-shaped strawberry tarts, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly his thoughts drifted to you.

Strawberries and heart-shaped objects were among your favorite things. 

Granted, you had many favorite things, especially if they were pink. And if they were that tickle-me-pink shade—because yes, there are different shades of pink as you passionately taught him one night—well, that made them even better.

After buying a couple of tarts among a handful of other pastries, he could almost picture your delighted expression, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through him. Something that did not go unnoticed by Azriel. “Didn’t know you liked tarts so much,” he commented.

“I always liked them.” Cassian replied, brushing off his friend’s curiosity.

Azriel’s gaze narrowed. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Cassian shrugged, pulling one of the tarts from his bag and eagerly taking a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment, making a dramatic show out of proving his point right as a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Azriel’s eyebrows knitted together in a skeptical manner, but Cassian was relieved he didn’t pry further. His shadows, however, began to pulse with sudden craving, and Cassian glared at the one that curled itself around Azriel’s ear. Centuries of friendship with the Shadowsinger have given Cassian some insight into the behavior of Azriel’s shadows. Those sneaky little tendrils could be just as meddlesome as he was.

And Cassian has yet to tell his family about you.

Though you’ve been friends for a while, he’s hesitant to share this part of his life with them. It's not because he is embarrassed, but because he knows they’d bombard him with questions about you. They’d also be eager to meet you, undoubtedly curious about the person who has captured his attention. Cassian is sure they already suspect something is going on, and the way Azriel’s shadows keep eagerly fluttering around him makes him wonder if Azriel has already figured it out.

A selfish part of Cassian just wants to keep you to himself. For you to be his person—Cassian shakes his head at the thought, quickly correcting himself. He wants you to be his friend, and only his friend, for now.  He isn’t ready to share you just yet.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of pink and his heart skipped a beat. His heart settled with a hint of disappointment when he realized that the pink had come from the cotton candy a vendor was selling. 

Get a grip, Cas.

He heard your laughter next—or what sounded like it.

There she goes, Cassian thought, his lips curving into a fond smile as his mind formed the image of you laughing. The way your eyes would light up, crinkling in an endearing manner as you tilted your head slightly back. And there she goes again, racing through his mind...

He could even picture you in this moment, walking gracefully through the plaza in another one of your pink outfits. A pink strawberry cardigan with light-colored pants and matching pink ballet flats. Wait a minute...

Cassian realized he wasn’t imagining things. That had been your laughter he heard. And you were, in fact, wearing a pink strawberry cardigan. Like a vision straight out of a dream.

You must’ve sensed him too because in a heartbeat, your head turned in his direction. A bright smile spread across your face. Cassian’s smile widened, his eyes softening and he couldn’t bring himself to care over the way Azriel’s gaze immediately shifted between you two, shadows whispering madly.

If there was one person that could keep a secret in the family, it’d be Azriel.

“Hey, Cas,” you greeted as you approached them. Your steps came to a stop and gaze shifted to Azriel.

A sense of panic had Cassian’s wings tensing as you regarded his friend.

Azriel had always been the most beautiful of their group. Many fae—females and males—flocked to him on the nights they’d successfully dragged Azriel to Rita’s. He was never short of suitors, and it seemed that he was always the first choice. It was something Cassian couldn’t help but be envious of, and the longer your gaze lingered on Azriel, the more his wings tensed.

“Hello! You must be Azriel. Cassian talks a lot about you and of Rhysa–the High Lord as well.” You corrected yourself, extending your hand out toward Azriel.

“Yes,” Azriel replied, side-glancing at Cassian as he politely shook your hand. “That’s funny actually because—���

Cassian elbowed Azriel, giving a subtle shake of his head. Don’t say anything, his eyes screamed at him. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes, choosing to clear his throat instead. “Because I am Azriel…”

“Right…”

“Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you…,” Azriel trailed off, the corner of his lips tugging upwards into a faint smile as that sneaky shadow of his curled around his ear once more. “The one Cassian has been running off to a lot...”

Cassian turned his head to glare at Azriel in warning. He then turned his attention back to you. He watched as your gaze flickered between them both, then to the bags full of pastries they carried, before settling back on Cassian. He let out a small exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath. The panic that had begun to seep in was now pushed away by relief.

You had not fallen victim to Azriel’s effortless charm. He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all.” Azriel replied for them and your eyes lit up.

You clasped your hands behind your back, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Does that mean you’re free then?”

“Yes,” Azriel answered for Cassian again, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mind if I steal him from you?” You asked Azriel, though your gaze had not wavered from Cassian.

“No, take him,” Azriel said, playfully shoving his friend your way. “You can keep him too.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

The sounds of children laughing and playing filled the air, and the vibrant energy of the city seemed to mirror the tumult in Cassian's chest. “So, what did you need to steal me for?” 

“Your company,” you replied simply, your smile warm as you watched the kids in the park. You missed the way your words made Cassian blush. “I missed you and was thinking about when you’d return. I got some updates for you…”

When he didn’t respond, you turned your head toward him, catching him staring at you with an intensity that took you aback. Your eyes met his with a curious, questioning look. Cassian quickly cleared his throat, attempting to mask his racing heart with a facade of nonchalance.

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

Cassian held up the pastry bag before opening it. He pulled out one of the strawberry tarts and that delighted expression he had imagined earlier came to life.

You gasped, drawing a genuine smile from his lips. “How did you know I love these?”

“I had a feeling,” Cassian said, nodding towards your cardigan, the shade of pink he had come to associate so closely with you.

“Well, thank you. You’re the best!”

Cassian’s wings fluttered behind him and he was grateful for the way you were distracted with the pastry to notice. But as you lifted your gaze back upwards, your eyes widened at something behind him. His muscles tensed when your hand suddenly gripped his arm, shorter form moving behind him. 

“Hide me!” You hush-whispered and Cassian’s instincts were quick, using his free hand to push you further behind him, your forehead pressing into his back.

His gaze sharpened, senses on high alert, as he searched the area for danger.

“What is it?”

“See that fae over there? The one with silver hair and wearing bright green? That’s my ex. And the other fae right next to him is his mean wife, who is always unpleasant to bump into.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the couple you pointed out, who were slowly approaching where you both stood. He turned, keeping you hidden behind his broad form as they walked past you. Only when they were out of sight did you step around Cassian, resuming your place by his side. You let out a long breath, wiping the nonexistent sweat from your forehead that had him resisting the urge to chuckle.

You finally indulged in the sweet pastry in your hand, struck by the need of a sweet distraction from the stressful situation you narrowly avoided. You waited until you swallowed the first bite completely before speaking again. 

“We dated for almost a year. He broke up with me because I was ‘too much.’ Guess he couldn’t handle me. Yet he can handle that crazy wife of his. Amazing what love does, isn’t it?”

There was no hint of bitterness in your tone. Only a soft, dreamy one that had Cassian’s jaw tightening slightly. “Amazing,” he echoed, though his thoughts were far from the admiration you harbored. 

He couldn’t fathom how anyone could think you were too much. To him, you were just right. Perfect, even. He could never get enough of you. The idea that someone else had the chance to experience that, and had let you go, was… infuriating.

“They give me hope.”

“What?” Cassian couldn’t help but let out a snort, pushing past the emotion he dared not name as he looked at you.

You looked back at him in an incredulous manner. “They give me hope,” you said again. “They remind me that there is someone for everybody. That there will be someone for me too one day…Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

Cassian shook his head, forcing a smile to his face as he reached into his bag of pastries and pulled out a macaroon. “You just don’t talk about your personal love life much.”

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, missing the conflict in his. “Well, there hasn’t been much to talk about lately. I’ve had relationships here and there.”

“I actually dated the bakery owner’s son awhile back. It only lasted three weeks. Biscuit bit his ankle when I first brought him to my place. Worked in his favor, though–he met the love of his life at the healing clinic. They make a really cute couple.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised in surprise, thinking back to the blue-skinned fae with delicate features he’d seen occasionally at the bakery. He would often help his father during the winter season but he hadn’t seen him lately.

“I’ve opened my heart to many but none of them have wanted to keep it.” You said with a shrug and then took another bite of the strawberry tart. “My love life is quite eventful but it leads to nowhere. I don’t talk about it much because it’s not good for my reputation, you know? A love witch who cannot find love herself…”

Cassian's heart ached at your words. He stared at you again, not knowing what to say to sweeten the bitterness that had befallen upon you. It was then that he noticed some of the pastry’s cream on the corner of your mouth. Without thinking, he leaned in and reached out, his thumb gently brushing against your skin as he wiped it away.

The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, and he realized just how close he was to you. Your eyes locked and his hand lingered on your face, the warmth of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

“Sorry, you had some of the pastry on your lips, ” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was close enough to see the flecks of color in your eyes, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. 

Something deep inside–like a hidden instinct– screamed at him to close the distance.

But instead, he let his hand drop, the moment slipping away like sand through his fingers. He brushed his thumb against his leathers to wipe off the cream before popping another macaroon into his mouth as if nothing happened.

“Maybe you should just date me.”

 Cassian choked on the macaroon. “Date—” he managed between coughs, “you?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he had seen a flicker of hurt flash through your eyes. But he must’ve imagined it because you were flashing him a grin, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just joking,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s just that people tend to meet their soulmates after breaking up with me. In a weird sense, I’m like a good luck charm. To all, except myself, that is.”

He felt a pang of disappointment, the feeling threatening to sink his heart. Of course, you were joking. He thought back to the fae you just told him about. Both males were tall and elegant with soft and beautiful features. They were so different from him, a stark contrast to his rugged warrior persona.

It was clear you had a type, and he was far from it. Just as he was convinced he was way out of your league. You would never date someone like him.

“Don’t worry! My love life might be a mess but when it comes to others, I am an expert. I have brought soulmates together. I made a vow to you, Cassian, and I intend to keep it. I’ll help you find your special someone, magic or no magic. Which brings me back to the update I wanted to share with you. I made a new friend the other day! Her name is…”

Cassian allowed you to tug him toward a quaint iron bench beneath a blooming tree as you rambled on. He settled down first, stretching his wings out to their full span to make room for both of you. As his wings curled around you, his heart raced at the accidental brush of his wing against your arm.

 You continued to chatter excitedly about the new friend you thought Cassian might be interested in. “She’s beautiful, weight-lifts, is interested in Valkyrie training, and—are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cassian replied noncommittally, drawing a small frown from you. In truth, he hadn’t been listening.

Something bright flashes in your eyes, the frown leaving your lips as quickly as it had come. “Did you meet someone in Windhaven?”

“No.” Cassian let out a snort. His trip to Windhaven consisted of solely dealing with the grumpy war camp lords. It was anything but pleasant. “I doubt I’d find love there.”

“Nonsense! Have you learned nothing from me?” You exclaimed, shifting in your seat so that you leaned forward slightly, palms of your hands placed on either side of your thighs. “Love can be found anywhere!”

Your eyes danced with excitement, searching around the plaza. He recognized that look on your face and leaned back, preparing for another impromptu love lesson. 

“Just look,” you said, your voice soft as you pointed to various scenes around them with tilts of your head. “There’s love in the way a mother pushes her little girl on the swing—just the right amount of force to send her soaring but gentle enough to keep her safe.”

Cassian watched, mesmerized, as your pupils dilated into heart shapes, pink magic beginning to dance from your fingertips. “There’s love in the way the elderly couple walks hand in hand, their steps in sync as if they’ve been together for multiple lifetimes.”

“There’s love in the way the flower merchant sneaks an extra rose into the bouquet she just wrapped for her customer. There’s love in the way the customer’s hands brush against hers as he takes the bouquet, his touch lingering for a moment longer and oh, would you look at that—”

Pink stardust soared through the air, forming little butterflies that fluttered around the female and male at the flower stand. They circled around them, drawing them closer to one another, shimmering over them. “—He actually bought those flowers for her to ask her on a date and she said yes!”

“There’s love in the laughter of children playing in the park, their joy infectious...”

Cassian listened, but his focus was less on the people you pointed out and more on you. The way your eyes sparkled with passion, the soft glow of your smile, the gentle manner in which you observed the world—everything about you was enchanting. 

It all made him yearn for something more, something he feared to admit. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to find love in Windhaven or anywhere else.

Because what if...

What if it was right there, sitting beside him, wrapped in pink magic and heart-shaped pupils?

“Uncle C–”

A high-pitched, familiar cheerful voice drew Cassian out of his thoughts. He blinked and then he was looking around the park, keen eyes searching for the voice that sounded just like his nephew’s. But there was no sight of the adorable toddler that held a special place in his heart.

“Love is in the air, Cas.” 

You were looking at him now, eyes filled with warmth and affection. He wondered if you could see the longing in his gaze, if you could feel the depth of his feelings. 

But then you smiled, a smile so pure and bright that it took his breath away, and he knew he couldn’t risk losing you.

How could he ever hope to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you?

a/n: I hope y'all didn't mind the time jump. I do intend to post more fics that occurred between the tarot love reading and this one! One of them is a bit angsty and gives more of Love Witch's POV since these have mainly been in Cassian's. I just had the inspiration to write this thanks to the song it was titled after.

Guess Azriel couldn't keep a secret, after all. This part leads right into the next, which was from a suggestion of love witch meeting the IC and also inspired by the song She's So High. If there is anything you'd like to see in that part, just let me know! <3

Biscuit is the name of Love Witch's pet snake btw, who will be introduced soon.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning

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@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[fandomnerd9602]

Naturally

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

In one universe, your mate was the doe hybrid Wanda Maximoff. In this other universe, your animal-human hybrid mate was your best friend.

Natasha Romanoff. Your wolf pal and fellow co-owner of the Westview Animal Hybrids Sanctuary.

She was your best friend, you started the sanctuary after serving in the armed forces together. The sanctuary’s staff was made of your former teammates including Natasha and her sister Yelena.

Honestly, you had to ask yourself how you hadn’t fallen for her sooner. She had your back and you had hers. You’d laugh at each other’s hidden jokes. Yelena would occasionally give you and her sideways glances.

Natasha felt her feelings stir for you. Every time you smiled in her direction, she could feel her tail begin to wag. Her ears would fall happily a little every time she heard your footsteps.

One such incident happened as you were helping to move supplies into the new Westview Sanctuary complex.

She heard your footsteps. Her tail wagged happily, her ears dropped, and then she saw you hauling boxes in. The light catching your arms just right. Natasha found her heart racing. And then your eyes met hers. Your mouth formed into a gentle smile.

“Hey Natasha” you said with a smile.

“H-hey you” she tried to form a sentence

“Can you—“

“Yeah?” Her tail starred wagging furiously

“Can you get the door for me? I just need to move these things into your office”

“Oh right”

It was driving her nuts. She was head over heels in love with her best friend. It felt so amazing and yet so forbidden at the same time. The mere thought of you was driving her crazy.

Little did your wolf pal realize you were having the same thoughts and the same dilemma. The only difference was you put your frustrations into working out with Yelena.

“You practically wear your heart on sleeve, (Y/N)” the blonde haired wolf snickers at you.

“What are you talking about, Lena?” You give her a slight angry yet confused look

“Oh do not play dumb with me,” she shakes her head, “you and Nattie are totally into each other”

“Me and Natasha?” You try to hide the growing blush on your face. “She’s my best friend, closer to a sister”

“I’m her sister, she does not look at me the way she does at you”

“You’re crazy”

“No you are (Y/N). I’ve only seen Natasha happy around you.” Yelena replies. “You both work so hard for the Sanctuary to run, you deserve to be happy together”

“Thanks Lena,” you sigh, “you’re actually really insightful”

“Thanks. But touch my mac and cheese again and I will kill you” she flashes her claws at you playfully.

Yelena walks out of the gym as Natasha walks in. “go get your chew toy, Fifi” the blonde wolf tells her red headed sister.

“What?” Natasha asks.

She walks up to you, a gentle smile on her face and an enticing swish to her tail.

Natasha picks up a pair of boxing gloves and tosses another pair to you. “You look confused, Chief,” she says with a smile.

“Had a lot on my brain, Nat,” you shrug, “how are the other hybrids adjusting?”

“We got several choosing or calling dibs on rooms,” she replies.

“And you?”

“I’m partial to the little cave out in the courtyard. I’m gonna put in a flat screen, a couch, a kitchenette and a foosball table”

“Foosball? You know I would kick your butt at that!”

“Or you might be too busy staring at it” she mutters

“What?”

“What?!” She blushes. “L-let’s go a round. You and me right now!”

“You’re on, wolf pal of mine!” You jump into the boxing ring and Natasha joins you

By the end of the round, you were pinned to the mat and Natasha was straddling you.

“I win” she purrs

“No contest” you respond. The two of you just look at each other. Her reddish brown wolf tail swishes as she looks at you adoringly.

You were left all sweaty and Natasha noticed, her heart racing with excitement and anticipation. How badly she just wanted to bend further down and kiss you right then and there.

“G-Good job” she tries to say but every part of her brain was on the fritz. “I’m gonna…go…for a run”

Natasha ran off to the sanctuary running track. You were only left with your thoughts.

This line of work you entered with your two best friends was difficult, prone to more bouts of heartache and pain. But if you were going to share that life with anyone, you wanted it to be with her. Her smile, her sense of humor, the way she always knew what to say. You loved her more than anything in the world.

You ran out after her. “Natasha!” You shouted, “wait up!!” She, due to her wolf like agility, was already running laps around the track.

Her mind was racing. It wasn’t right. You were her best friend; you were full human, she was a hybrid. She had a past involving the Red Room. You only dealt with the Red Room on raids. She was—

“Natasha!” Your voice broke through her rampant thoughts.

“H-Hey (Y/N), what’s up?” She said as she came to a halt

“Well besides my best wolf friend running out on me, not much,” you shrug. “Nat I need to tell you something”

“And I need to tell you something too” her eyes show a bit of worry.

You and her found yourselves trying to formulate what to tell each other. And then it all came out as a combined word salad: “I’m in love with you…wait!…what?!…you love me??”

Natasha found herself blushing and her tail wagging furiously, “f-for how long?”

“As long as I can remember. And you?”

“Military training. Day one.” She answers with a giggle. “But I’m a hybrid. A wolf hybrid. I-I’m not sure what the rules are about this”

“You’re still human.” You shrug, “besides we’re best friends and we love each other. What more does anyone need to know?”

“Could you really love me? I mean with my past and…”

You kiss her cheek, “I can and I do”

Natasha’s eyes water up with joyful tears, “oh malysh”

She launches into your arms, hugging you tightly. Natasha pulls back, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. You gently take her face in your hands.

“I love you Natasha Romanoff. You’re my best friend. My love. My everything.”

“You’re my everything,” she whispers as she closes the distance between her lips and yours.

Her tail wags happily, she wraps her legs around your waist and the sudden shift in balance causes you to fall to the soft grass lawn.

You share a little laugh with your best friend and someday very soon, mate.

“Get a room…or a cave” Yelena laughs from the track although inside she was cheering for you and Natasha.

It was a long road ahead for you and Natasha. A road full of tears and laughter. A road of fear and courage. Honestly, you were looking forward to walk down that road, hand in hand with the wolf girl of your dreams.

Loving her just came so naturally.

Tags @supercorpdanbeau @lifespectator @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @revanshand @iiconicsfan25 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @jacenradio7 @aloneodi @ab1nsur @iamnicodemus @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

[austinbutlerslovers]

Chokehold

Label Mature 18+

Benny x You One Shot

Summary

When Benny decides to take a thrill ride before a thunderstorm, you chastise him about his safety. With his free spirited nature, he flat out dismisses you as “causing trouble,” riding off on his bike and setting off your short temper.

When he returns from his ride cockier than ever, you hurl an insult his way, frustrated by his recklessness. Benny enjoys your fiery and overbearing nature, knowing you can never tame his wild side. He playfully puts you in a chokehold until you submit to his will and carries you to the kitchen to tame the temper right out of you.

Established Relationship Bennys Girlfriend

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥

manhandling•fiery female•chokehold• male dominance • edging•fingering •dirty talk •pxssy taming•“good girl”•neck pinning•sex over a kitchen counter •overstimulation•simultaneous orgasm •cream pie•aftercare

🫦Smut consultant @purejasmine

Choke Hold

“You’re seriously going to ride out in this weather Benny?” you question, your tone laced with frustration and a hint of anger, as you eye the dark clouds gathering overhead.

“C’mon baby don’t be such a buzzkill,” Benny replies, sliding on his riding gloves, his grin only adding to your irritation. “I’ve ridden in worse.”

“But it’s not just about you,” you argue your voice rising slightly. “What if something happens? What if you get hurt?”

Benny shrugs, seemingly unconcerned by your worries. “Baby your always stirring up trouble relax, I’ll be fine a little rain never hurt anyone.”

You clench your fists, struggling to contain your frustration.

“Fine Benny do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you get caught in a downpour and end up stranded somewhere.”

Benny laughs and with a swift motion he kick-starts his Harley, the loud roar of the engine grating on your nerves.

“I’ll be back before you know it, baby. Try not to miss me too much,” he says with a wink.

His casual dismissal only serves to fuel your anger, and you feel the words bubbling up in your throat, ready to spill out in a torrent of frustration. But you bite back the retort swallowing it down with the bitter taste of resentment. You know all too well that once his mind is set, there’s no changing it back.

Benny, seeing your restraint flashes you a cocky grin and revs his engine drowning out any further protest. Then with the flick of his wrist, he rides his motorcycle out of the driveway and speeds off into the distance.

Your frustration mounts as you watched him embark on his thrill ride into the horizon with the ominous storm clouds.

You can’t help but feel a surge of anger rising within you. It was his casual dismissal of your opinion on several recent decisions that ignited your spark of defiance. Benny had a way of underestimating your insights, and though he meant no harm, it grated on you to no end.

A while later after the first crack of thunder, cutting through the air like a warning, you strain your ears and hear the familiar sound of Benny’s bike approaching. The rumble of his Harley growing louder with each passing second until finally he pulls into the driveway and abruptly cuts the engine.

You come to stand in the doorway and lean against the frame, your arms crossed in displeasure as you judge him.

"See? I told you it was fine," Benny quips, his grin unapologetic as he dismounts from his bike.

He approaches you and leans in, planting a kiss on your forehead before walking past you through the front door. Your hidden rage in striking contrast to his relaxed demeanor from the recent ride. With a practiced ease and without a care in the world he hangs up his riding gear.

You watch as heavy droplets of rain begin to patter on the driveway as a streak of lightning fills the sky. A roll of thunder rumbles, shaking the ground beneath your very feet. The storm is going to be severe, Benny barely made it in by the skin of his teeth.

"Your fine Benny ?” you retort closing the door. “You were practically going to ride through a monsoon out there! It’s like you’ve got a death wish or something." You say as the sound of heavy rain suddenly pelts the house.

Benny brushes off your concerns with a casual shrug “Come on, you worry too much” He says nonchalantly.

When he sits in the lounger and pulls off his boots, your frustration boils over, and you can’t hold back any longer. The insult that’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue bursts forth.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you had half a brain to go with all that brawn Benny, you’d actually listen to reason for once!” you snap.

Benny looks up at you and tosses his boot aside rising from the chair. His tall and imposing frame towers over yours as he stands, his muscular build only adding to his presence. His grin widens, mischief dancing in his piercing blue eyes.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth,” he says, his tone laced with amusement as he approaches, each step exuding his confidence and a hint of challenge.

Coming to a stop before you he gazes down, his eyes trailing over your smaller stature.

“But I guess that’s all you’ve got when you’re lacking in the brawn department,” he adds, his tone tinged with a hint of superiority.

Though his authority is infuriating it arouses you, and you find yourself fighting the urge to touch him, to feel the strength of his grip. Even as you resist the idea of giving in, his dominance is overwhelming.

You can’t deny how attractive he looks, especially in his muscle tee. The ruggedness of his appearance, combined with the confidence exuding from his every movement makes you crave him deep inside of you.

But this time, you’re not going to let him have his way. You double down on your resolve, determined to make sure he knows you won’t be easily swayed.

As you stand in a face off the air is charged with tension. The sound of rain pounds against the house as thunder shakes the foundation. You glare into Bennys eyes, your resolve doubling with each passing second. You choose your words precisely, knowing this is the moment to show him your strength, your words laced with determination as you answer.

“Brains beat brawn any day, Benny, you should kno-,” before you finish, Benny grabs you by surprise.

His grip is strong as he pulls you to him whipping you around in his arms and holding your back to his chest.

“Come on troublemaker, you think you can take me?” Benny chuckles, his voice deep and vibrating against your ear as he wraps his impressive bicep around your throat.

“You’re asking for it, Benny!” you retort in anger as you put up a fight pulling and struggling against his vice-like grip.

His strength is unyielding, every muscle in his arm flexed and tense, holding you firmly in place. As you struggle, you can feel his chest pressed against your back and his breath warm against your ear.

“Got you good now, don’t I?” Benny murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Think you can break free?” he asks as his bicep clenches even harder around your throat. The pressure intensifies against your windpipe and a wave of panic sets in.

Your struggle turns into genuine resistance as you realize he is overpowering you with his strength in a chokehold. The air quickly grows thin and your movements become desperate. “Benny..-ease up a bit!” you manage to gasp out your voice strained with effort.

Benny remains calm, his grip firm yet controlled as he exerts his strength. “Don’t worry baby I’ve got you” he says, his tone firm yet reassuring. “Just surrender to it.”

Your vision begins to blur and your body starts to go limp as you cling to his forearm for support. Exhausted and gasping for breath, you reluctantly give in and weakly tap his forearm, signaling your surrender as you see stars.

“Looks like you’ve had enough, huh?” he chuckles as he releases you on your easy submission.

You stumble forward unable to gain your footing and he quickly reaches out grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling and pulls you back to face him.

“Guess brawn did beat brains this time,” he murmurs low and seductive, his eyes locking with yours in a heated gaze.

“You win this time, Benny,” you say, your voice laced with the hint of threat as you glare back at him. “But payback’s coming.”

Benny’s face lights up with a big grin at your threat of revenge.

“You look real adorable when you’re mad, baby,” he admits, his voice laced with charm. His eyes wander over your body, as he takes in your fiery demeanor.

“I’m not here to be adorable, Benny,” you retort, your voice edged with defiance. “I’m here to be respected.”

As you speak, your eyes hold his, conveying your determination to stand your ground.

“Alright then trouble maker” he says and before you can regain your composure, he surprises you by lifting you up over his shoulder with effortless strength and carrying you off.

“Benny where are we going?” you protest, your voice a mixture of surprise and anger.

“To a place where I can tame that temper of yours,” he responds, giving your backside a playful swat.

He carries you to the kitchen with determination his grip firm and unyielding as he sets you down gently in front of the center island. You look up at his intense gaze with a flutter of excitement coursing through your body.

“You know, you’re not as tough as you think,” he teases as he cups your jaw in one hand. When you open your mouth to protest he pulls you into a deep kiss.

Your arousal instantly wins over reason and you find yourself melting into his touch, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest grabbing his shirt pulling him even closer.

He smiles against your lips at your neediness for him and you feel the soft press of his mouth intensify as it moves against yours in a tender deliberate rhythm.

You respond eagerly, matching his pace with a hunger of your own. You feel the softness of his lower lip beneath yours, the gentle tug of his teeth as he teases and tantalizes, drawing out every moment with precision.

You arch into his touch, craving more of his kiss as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours.

He presses himself against you, backing you to the edge of the counter and pulls his lips back in anticipation. You are breathless and exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest as you gaze into his eyes.

“What were you saying about payback?” he murmurs, as you feel his impressive hard on touch between your legs as he pins you against the counter.

You meet his gaze with a mischievous smile, your eyes filled with seduction as you respond, “I think payback can wait.”

Benny chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer.

“Because you know you won’t win against me,” he responds, his voice laced with confidence and a hint of challenge. “Even if you tried, you’d never get your revenge.” He says as his eyes trail seductively down your body “I’m too good at this.” He confirms making your heart race with excitement.

He swiftly grabs your waist, effortlessly turning you around and bending you over the counter. His strong hand presses your chest to the cool tile surface pinning you down in place.

He brushes your hair aside and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine.

With a knowing grin Benny leans in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s bring down that fiery temper of yours hm?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

His tongue darts out and traces a tantalizing path along the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. As he sucks gently, his lips create a sweet, tingling sensation. Each movement of his mouth against your skin ignites a fiery passion within your body.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure, completely lost in the sensation of his tender kiss. His hands strong yet gentle trail down your body, caressing every curve with a delicate touch.

He leans back to standing, his grip firm yet gentle as he guides your legs apart with ease. With a confident touch he lifts your dress over your back exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the kitchen.

A rush of heat floods between your legs as he slides your panties down, the fabric grazing against your skin before settling just at the folds of your thighs. His fingers, warm and skilled, trace intricate patterns against your heat teasing you mercilessly.

“You’re getting so wet for me, aren’t you baby” He smiles feeling your arousal on his fingers “It’s like you can’t resist my touch.” he says punctuating his words with gentle strokes.

“You think you can …make me lose control that easily, Benny?” you pant against the tile, trying not to give in. “You haven’t even …done anything yet,” you say, a hint of defiance in your voice as you try to hold your resolve.

Benny chuckles softly “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with confidence. “I haven’t even begun to show you what I can do.” He glides his fingers over your folds and traces them around your sensitive entrance with increasing pressure until your arousal intensifies as you become wetter under his expert touch.

Then with his fingers fully soaked he trusts them into you pushing them deep inside as he continues to tease and explore. His fingers move in and out of you with deliberate thrusts to drive you wild with desire.

Your body tenses with effort as you try to resist the intensifying sensation. Every muscle is coiled with anticipation with each passing moment until you give in to the urge and surrender to the pleasure building within you.

Just as you moan in acceptance against the counter, he withdraws his hand, leaving you craving more, your body still tingling with desire. Your anger rises within you once again “Your such a tease Benny” you say taunting him in frustration.

“Just a taste of what’s to come,” he says with a smirk as he takes a step back leaving you wanting more.

You hear the faint sound of his zipper being lowered and feel his hand return reassuringly on your back, as he lines himself up.

He presses his hard tip to your entrance and runs it up and down your folds collecting your arousal for penetration. Your back arches from the extreme sensation and he gives your backside a playful slap, the sound echoing the kitchen. “Look how quiet and docile you are for me now,” he says with a grin.

“You’re impossible,” you gasp, your voice breathless with desire as you resist the urge to give in completely again.

Benny chuckles huskily, murmuring, “And you love every minute of it.”

With a slow deliberate push he thrusts his large cock into you, the sensation is overwhelming yet undeniably pleasurable as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Your body trembles as he presses you firmly against the counter, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to the searing heat of your body.

His strong hands grasp your hips with a primal need, pulling you back as he presses his cock completely into you stretching you full. You moan as he sets a relentless pace thrusting you forward into the counter.

Each movement sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, the force of his thrusts driving you deeper into ecstasy. Your muscles clench around him with each powerful stroke, your senses consumed by the overwhelming intensity of his plowing cock.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” Benny teases, his tone playful as he observes your response in his thrusts.

“I am not …a girl… Benny!” you retort firmly. “I am…a woman.”

“Is that right, darlin’?” he asks, his playful demeanor unwavering. You nod determined to stand your ground as he thrusts into you.

Benny responds by placing his large hand on the back of your neck, pinning you in a submissive pose as he guides his movements. With each snap of his hips, he thrusts into you hard with a raw, primal energy that consumes your every thought and sensation.

You moan against the tiles with your face pressed to them as every collision of him against your body thrusts his cock deeper against your cervix. After several aggressive thrusts in a row a deep moan escapes from you as he breaks down your resolve. Benny revels hearing the sound of your pleasure.

He begins to clap his hips against you, deepening his thrusts until the intensity builds to a fever pitch. You can feel the tension of the coil inside of you winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Leaning over you he grabs your waist and changes the intensity of his thrusts, driving his movements slower and deeper until you gasp in pleasure as your core throbs from the sensation. His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in to whisper, “You sure are taking my cock like a good girl.”

Overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s giving, all you can do is moan, your body completely surrenders to his will. Benny sits up and pulls your arms back lifting your chest from the counter using them as leverage to bounce you on his hard, thrusting cock.

With each slap of your bodies meeting, your loud moans fill the air as his grunts of exertion echo the kitchen. Your walls begin to flutter around him and you cry out his name like a prayer, he smiles to himself, relishing in the sensation of you fully surrendering to him.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, his voice husky with desire. You let out a guttural moan losing all your anger as the pleasure surges in your core.

And then with one final, explosive thrust, you both orgasm to the overwhelming waves of pleasure. His ropes of cum painting your fluttering walls.

“Benny!” you cry out trembling as he holds you against him standing up. You pant for several moments as he presses his cock deep inside releasing every once of his sperm. He kisses along your neck as he holds you to him savoring your shared connection.

When he begins to soften he pulls his hips back grasping his cock at the base sliding it from you as you feel the loss of contact.

He turns you to face him and pulls your lips onto his softly kissing you once more before he leans back to gaze into your eyes.

They are filled with satisfaction and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips

“You look real pretty when you’re not being a little trouble maker baby” he teases as he smiles caressing your temple.

With a mischievous grin, you respond, “Dont get used to it Benny trouble is my middle name.”

You both share a laugh and he holds you close, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. The rain outside begins to subside, the soft patter against the windows gradually fading away.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, a comforting embrace in the aftermath of the storm. As you smile to yourself, a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that while he may overpower you physically, you’ll always find a way to turn the tables with wit.

⛈️END⛈️

🔗 Master List ••• 🔗Upcoming List

🏍️ Full Four Part Benny Fic TBA this month

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[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, boothill and dr ratio with a s/o who's a detective? :3

Detective on the clock!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Detective!Reader, Crime-solving, Witty Banter, Partnership, Mystery, Tension, Fluff, Adventure.

Warnings: Mild Language, Implied Violence, Mentions Of Crime And Investigation, Action, Slight Angst In Boothill's Storyline.

The soft chime of the clock struck midnight as you studied the crime scene evidence, furrowing your brow in concentration. Just as the details started to piece together, a figure slid into the room, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Late night again, love?” Aventurine’s smooth voice broke the silence, accompanied by the gentle scent of his cologne as he leaned against your desk, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Some people work for a living,” you replied, sparing him a quick, affectionate smile. “Unlike a certain risk-taker who plays the stock market as if it’s a card game.”

Aventurine chuckled, feigning an offended gasp. “Why, I’ll have you know that every investment is as strategic as a chess move. And speaking of strategy…” He slid a small, folded paper across your desk. “I managed to get some information that might help with that case of yours. A little gift, courtesy of the IPC.”

You took the paper, heart thumping as the details unfolded. It was a lead you’d been searching for. “Aventurine… how did you even get this?”

“Do you really want to know?” He grinned, pushing his glasses up. “Or are you happy with the result?”

You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Sometimes, I think you’re the better detective.”

“Maybe,” he mused with a wink. “But I’d rather leave the real mysteries in your capable hands.”

Together, you returned to your work—one a master of risks, the other a seeker of truth, blending your strengths to bring the shadows into the light.

The galaxy's starry expanse flickered beyond the viewport as Boothill silently reloaded his revolver, checking each chamber with practiced ease. You leaned back, arms folded, watching his every move.

“Any idea what’s waiting for us down there?” you asked, squinting at the worn map on the dashboard. The old freighter rumbled beneath you, navigating its way through treacherous asteroid fields toward the IPC's latest outpost.

Boothill's sharp teeth flashed in a grin. “Justice, sweetheart. That’s all that’s waiting. And maybe a little trouble, if I’m lucky.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. “Lucky, huh? You mean reckless.”

“That, too,” he drawled, glancing over his shoulder at you. “That’s why I have you, my little detective. Keepin’ me on the straight and narrow.” His eyes gleamed with affection. “Mostly.”

“Someone has to,” you said, crossing the room to stand beside him. “I may not have your… firepower, but I’d like to think my detective instincts are keeping us both alive.”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “Those instincts of yours are sharper than any blade. Once we hit that outpost, keep your eyes open. They’ll have what we need, but I’ll need you watching my back.”

And with a quick, heated kiss, you both turned back to the task at hand—a vengeful cowboy and his vigilant detective, prepared to bring justice to every shadowed corner of the galaxy.

The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in your office. You sifted through case files, piecing together the fragments of an unsolvable mystery. Every clue, every lead pointed toward an unknown answer—until a soft knock at your door made you look up

There he stood: Dr. Veritas Ratio, the renowned genius, a glint of amusement lighting his features. He entered, a scroll of notes in hand. “I heard,” he said in that calm, assured voice, “you were looking for a missing variable.”

You blinked in surprise. “Are you offering help?”

“I’m offering insight,” he replied, placing his notes before you with a flourish. “Intuition, as you call it, though I prefer ‘scientific deduction.’”

You scanned the pages, the tiny puzzle pieces starting to fall into place with Ratio’s guidance. “You did this for me?”

He tilted his head, almost as if the thought of not helping you was absurd. “A detective’s work is not all that different from mine—chasing truth, unraveling the unknown. Besides, I find it... intellectually stimulating.” His hand brushed yours lightly as he took a seat beside you, eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of passion. “Together, I believe we might solve anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then let’s crack this case, shall we?”

And as you both leaned over the papers, minds entwined in a dance of logic and intuition, you felt grateful for the brilliant man who saw mystery in the ordinary and in you, his remarkable detective.

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Three

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: Azriel receives a lesson in flirting.

Warnings: A bit of angsty pining. Teeny bit of suggestiveness.

It was a familiar scene; you staring at Azriel.

And Azriel staring at her.

Want swimming in his hazel eyes as he absorbed Elain's glowing figure as she pottered about in her garden, lips parted in awe as he took in her soft features and natural beauty.

All the while your eyes stayed locked on him. Wonder filling your own gaze as you marveled at the admiration which flowed freely from the male next to you. Azriel's intense stare providing you with an insight into all the love he had to give. A love that would never be reserved only for you. A type of love that he would only ever feel for Elain.

"So how's this going to work?" you ask in an attempt to break Azriel from his lovestruck spell, swallowing your pain as you noticed the love draining from his eyes as he turned his gaze to you.

"I don't know, I was hoping you would tell me what to do" he nervously mumbled, peeking back over the rosebush the two of you were hidden behind to double check that Elain hadn't spotted you.

"Gods this is ridiculous, Az just go over and talk to her!" you exclaimed, your raised voice being met with the anxious shushing of your worrisome friend who was afraid of being caught.

"Gee thanks I wonder why I haven't thought about doing that before. . . It's because I can't!" his sarcastic reply was met with a flat look from you, certain that the only reason Azriel was finding this difficult was because he was the one making it that way.

"Az, how hard can it be? Just compliment her or something!" you sighed, wondering how Azriel could ooze confidence in every aspect of his life apart from when it comes to romance.

"It's not that easy. I've tried. . . look last time I complimented her I asked her if she was the cauldron because I wanted to drown in her eyes" he awkwardly admitted, embarrassed eyes cast to the ground in shame.

"You compared Elain to the cauldron?" you asked unimpressed, astounded at your friend's boundless stupidity, "Elain who quite literally drowned in the cauldron in what was probably the most traumatizing event of her life."

"I didn't say the line worked" Azriel grumbled, not liking the chuckle of disbelief which slipped from your lips at his hopelessness.

"Obviously not, we wouldn't be crouched behind a bush right now if it did" you retorted, unable to stop the fit of giggles which followed as you tried to imagine Azriel's pitiful attempt of flirting backfiring on him.

"Are you going to help me or are you just going to sit there and laugh at me?" Azriel huffed, not sharing in your amusement at his misery.

"Fine, fine. Just go over there and compliment her dress, girls like it when guys notice that kind of thing" you suggest, trying not to turn red as you recall the time when Azriel had first complimented one of your own dresses, having continued to wear it every time you saw him for the next few months with the hope of him praising you again.

"Great, what do I say?" your friend asked, but not before you shoved him right into the heat of the fire by pushing him out from behind the rosebush. Azriel stumbling away from the safety of his hiding spot.

"Azriel? What are you doing here?" Elain's gentle voice called out from where she was stood. A quick flash of Azriel's burning gaze a warning that the two of you would be talking about this later.

"Elain!" Azriel loudly starts as he slowly makes his way towards Elain, his awkward manner already making you cringe in discomfort, "Your dress! it's nice. . . and pink. Nice and pink."

It took everything in you not to hang your head into your palm in shame, finding it incredulous how one person could fail so miserably when it came to talking to someone.

Thankfully, if Elain found his behaviour strange she didn't let on, instead replying to his strange attempt of a compliment with an airy giggle and a polite thank you.

"Great! Well um. . ." your ears perk, brows furrowing in confusion as you wait to see what Azriel says next, "Hope you have a nice day!"

With that Azriel swiftly left, abruptly ending the painfully awkward conversation before leaving the garden, hurriedly making his way up the nearest street in order to escape his discomfort. Chasing after your flustered friend, you followed after him, hoping that Elain hadn't noticed you were also there listening in on their conversation.

"Nice and pink? Have a nice day?" you laughed, having caught up to Azriel, “I’ve met Middengard Wyrm’s that flirt better than you just did." Not failing to miss the dusty pink hue that had blossomed across Azriel’s cheeks in wake of his embarrassment. 

“I can flirt,” he swiftly defended, hazel eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he noted the teasing smile which had graced your lips, “I was just caught off guard that’s all.”

“Ah ok, you were caught off guard. Is that the reason why you practically screamed in Elain’s face?” you smirked, working to deepen your friend’s blush until the growing redness spread to his ears.

“I didn’t scream-” Azriel didn’t fail to miss the way your face contorted into a wince at his hopeless denial, his once heated words now converting into a low conscious murmur, “Was it really that bad?”

You stretch out a reassuring hand to come and rest against Azriel’s slumped shoulder, thumb instinctively moving to rub comforting circles into his taut muscle. Eyebrows knitting together in pained sympathy, you answer honestly, “Maybe it was a little pathetic. . .You won't be tending to Elain's garden any time soon if that was anything to go by."

There was no stopping Azriel’s despondent sigh, not even the gentle caress of his shadows against his shaking hands brought the male any solace, the swirling black tendrils failing to sate their master's rising panic as it washed over him.

It was a horrible sight, seeing your friend so dejected. Your heart twinging at the way his anxious breath rattled in his chest. You would offer him your understanding if you could, take his trembling hands into your own and tell Azriel that you were all too familiar with the feeling of getting tongue tied around the person you so longed for. Yet no confession of your shared failures in the romance department would fix this, not when Azriel was the one who owned your heart. Not when you had promised him help in winning over another.

And so you didn’t share your hidden truth with the male, instead opting to lock it away into the darkest depths of your heart. It was a secret you were willing to keep forever, so only to ensure the happiness of your friend. A secret you would carry with you to your grave if Azriel’s plan goes as intended. 

Instead you offer Azriel the only thing you could; your comfort. The supportive hand which had been resting on his shoulder now travelling down his arm. His shadows parting briefly to allow you to lock your fingers with his own, the smoky wisps resuming their soothing dance once your hands were comfortably entwined.

One touch. That was all it took to pull Azriel from the wave of panic that had consumed him. The familiar touch of your palm against his own enough to steady his uneven breaths and calm his shaking hands.

"Its ok," you promise, confident gaze meeting his own uncertain stare, "you've not ruined anything. All you need is a little more confidence and she'll be under your spell. Trust me, one flirty little one liner from you and it will be impossible for her to be anything but in love."

"I can manage one I suppose" Azriel attempts to agree confidently yet his words read more like a question, removing his hand from your own to ruffle his hair in thought.

"Maybe you could ask Lucien for tips, Feyre tells me he's quite the flirt'' you tease, hoping the mention of Lucien's name would spur on Azriel's desire to act on his feelings for Elain.

"I don't need help when it comes to flirting, and certainly not from him" he grit the words through his teeth having predictably taken the bait you had laid out for him.

"Hmm I'm not sure, your skills were a little lacklustre from what I could see" you continue to goad him, each prod and poke working to build your friends confidence bit by bit.

"Lacklustre?" Azriel scoffed in disbelief, all anxiety having been drained from his eyes and replaced with the spark of a challenge.

"You wouldn't have me swooning" you shrug casually, mouth twisting into a playful smirk at Azriel's displeasure.

“No?” Azriel asked in faux surprise, the male taking a slow step towards you, “not even if I did this?”

 A gentle push of the tips of Azriel's fingers against the exposed skin of your chest found you stumbling backwards until you were pressed against the wall. Your teasing smile fading as your shock consumed you, heart fluttering as Azriel's arms came to cage you on either side. “Or this?” he continued, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath against your neck began to send shivers down your spine. Your knees wobbling at the intensity of his gaze.

“I thought flirting included words?” you breathed out heavily, trapped under the heat of his gaze.

“Why use words when I could take you apart with less than that?” he lowly whispered into your ear, a glint of darkness in his eyes as a cruel smirk appeared on his lips. You found yourself speechless, entranced by the playfulness of his devilishly handsome features, your deep breaths falling in time with his own as he witnessed your stunned reaction to his words.

"I think Elain will find my flirting perfectly adequate" he smiled, shattering the moment as he mentioned the woman that he truly wished was captured between his arms. Reminding you that his flirtacious quip wasn't for you; it was for her.

"Maybe that's a bit much Az" you state sourly, moving your hand to his chest in order to push him away and slip under his outstretched arm, "I don't know how well Elain will take it if you come on that strong."

"You didn't seem to mind" he answered cheerfully, failing to notice your sudden change in mood, the male still trying to continue his teasing banter.

"I think you'll find there's more to women than just sex and physical attraction" you scoffed, desperately wanting nothing more than to move on from this conversation. Yet Azriel wouldn't provide you with that mercy, his next question almost enough to make you sick.

"What would you say then? To someone you loved, someone you pined after?"

You debated not answering him, dismissing his curiosity to spare you from the pain and embarrassment that would no doubt ensue. Yet a small part of you wondered if this would be your only chance. That perhaps you had the wrong idea, locking away your feelings, maybe all you needed was to get them off your chest. To lift the weight from your shoulders, allow yourself to finally move on from the male who would never be interested in you.

So you took the leap, looking your fear in the face as you stared into Azriel's expectant eyes.

And you confessed.

"I would tell him the truth. Tell him how not a day passes where I don't feel madly, uncontrollably in love with him. That any moment I'm not near him I find myself unable to breathe, unable to be satisfied until I am in his company. And I'd tell him that loving him makes me a fool, that I would never fail to sacrifice my happiness if only to see him smile. That love has made me it's servant and I am all too willing to bow before it."

"Sounds to me like you're an expert in love" Azriel answered after a thoughtful pause, a flicker of a smile working its way onto his face.

"I don't think I know what love is" you replied, still waiting for the moment of relief to come, failing to understand that it was a gift you would never receive.

"Nonsense, he's a lucky guy. I'm sure he feels for you as deeply as you do for him" Azriel cheerfully reassured you, looking absolutely delighted by the prospect of you being in love with someone. Completely unaware that he was the male you were speaking of. That he was the person you would struggle to live without.

And as you shook away the consoling shadow which had tentatively approached you, you wondered if your heart would ever be free from the chains of Azriel's own design.

Part four

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

Notes: Thank you to @daily-dose-of-sass for unknowingly falling into my trap and giving me the most perfect pick up line for Azriel to have used 😌

Bit more of a look at the dynamic of their friendship in this one!

Taglist Part 1:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @eve175 @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

[fazyrich]

Tags: Sylus x reader, Caleb x reader(?), teasing, fighting, slightly playful Sylus, random encounter, kinda proofread?. This is my first attempt of writing 😬😬. So ignore my inconsistent writings *sobs*

You/MC, Sylus, Caleb

Going to an event with Sylus as an apology for accusing him about your family house explosion 💥.

___

While walking around during the party with Sylus, your hand slotted firmly on his left arm, you just stumble upon Caleb. It turned out the event was just another gathering for the usual shady dealings—no surprise they had invited the Colonel as well. His gaze locks onto yours instantly.

You could see his eyes widened in surprise, and feel them rake upon your body. Tightly wrapped with a maroon silk gown, slitted at your left thigh, successfuly showing off your long legs. The look was further complemented with a pair of louboutins.

On the other hand, Sylus could sense how your hand slightly gripped his arm a little too hard. Understanding that something or someone is making you feel nervous.

"Mr Sylus, I rarely see you around lately", the older gentleman in front of Caleb greets them. Judging from their positions, They must have been talking with each other.

"Ah, Mr Charles, it has been a while," Sylus replied. Nodding slightly to the elderly gentleman before resting his gaze to Caleb. Sensing the stare, Mr Charles quickly exclaimed

"Oh this is Caleb, a junior of mine from the Aviation team,"

"Pleased to meet you..Mr.Caleb", Sylus said, extending his hand. Caleb glanced at it for a second before gripping it firmly.

"Same here," he replied shortly, tightening his grip as he spoke. Not noticing the cold response, Mr Charles nodded to me as they released the handshake.

"Never seen you out with a partner before, May I ask who she is?"

"Oh, she's my.. fiancée," Sylus replied. Hearing this both Caleb and I turned to Sylus, eyes widening in shock. What the hell, he never says that before?!

"Hah! Congratulations Mr. Sylus. You two make quite the pair", the elderly man said with a chuckle as he praised us.

Caleb, however was still in shock, his fist tight as his knuckles turned white. How could his pips-..No, no, this must be a part of her mission or something. It's better to play along

Following Mr. Charles, Caleb gathered himself and flashed his usual million watt smile " I agree Mr. Charles, they do look perfect for each other,"

His eyes stray from Sylus and only rest on my face, I could feel the raging emotion he is shooting me behind those gentle pairs of amethysts.

"Thank you for the kind words, gentlemen. Don't mind her- she's albeit a little tired from the honeymoon," Sylus claims, his eyes twinkled with amusement. Meanwhile, Caleb's left eye involuntarily twitched at the statement.

Okay now, that's enough. I tried to subtly pinch his side, a signal for him to stop the storytelling however sometimes I forgot that this man is well built. The only thing I'm doing is tugging his jacket.

Sylus immediately leans down, " What was that, sweetie?," Half of his build covering the vision of those two men from me. I glared at him for a second. "Stop teasing," I whispered in his ear.

"No can do, kitten. I'm always worried about you," he states. His hand softly tucks a strand behind my ear.

"By the way, Mr. Sylus. If you don't mind, would you like to discuss a potential business venture? My junior here would like to share some of his insights," the elderly man spoke, gesturing towards the other side of the hall.

You mean a new illegal business? And of course the fleet is involved. I sighed

Straightening up , Sylus turns to me, his eyes alone gauging my reaction. I smiled and patted his chest

"You should go, honey. I think I'm going to get more drinks," I forced a polite smile toward the two men.

"Very well , don't overdo yourself sweetie or I'll need to carry you back to the car again," he teased. His hand caresses my face again before resting on the brooch he gave me. Which now had beend tinkered into a hair ornament.

I saw him silently mouthing something to me before he turned and walked away

"Be careful"

I watched the three of them leave before walking in the opposite direction. Approaching the table decorated with miniature snacks and various alcoholic drinks, I picked a tall glass of white wine.

The event replaying in my head. Sheesh, that was delightful haha. This was supposed to be a casual event.

Why is Caleb here for fuck's sake. I sighed before sipping the wine

I wonder if Caleb is pissed or worried about me? Glancing up at the huge analog clock hanging by the wall. I noted, Half an hour past midnight. My body tensed

This night is not going to end any sooner huh. More like, it just started.

---

Hours drifted by as if time had lost all meaning.

By the time I reached my third glass of wine, there was still no sign of Sylus anywhere in the hall. Damn it! Did he ditch me or something? I clicked my tongue in frustration.

Deciding that the need for fresh air is overwhelming, I walked around the hall searching for an empty space to rest. Complaints continued to leave me until I reached a quiet balcony on the furthest part of the hall.

Perfect, none of those creepy party attendants is here. I gleefully rejoiced for the personal space

Walking forward, I leaned against the balcony, the crisp night air wrapping around me like a silent embrace.

"Ughh where did Sylus go, I wanna leave this shitty place," I whined loudly while looking up into the starry skies.

"You’re leaving already?"

The unexpected voice makes me flinch slightly and my grip on the railing tightened.

I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder. Oh no. Just my luck. The one person I was trying to avoid.

I forced a casual smile. "Oh, hi. Uh... Mr. Caleb, right?". Did I stuttered too much?

"Cut it out, pips. It’s just us here, I made sure of it," Caleb said, stepping beside me.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating something in his mind, before his sharp gaze rested on me.

"Is this another one of your missions?" His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it.

"Didn’t know that one of a hunter's responsibility includes being an escort." He tilted his head slightly, the faint glow of the stars barely reveal his face.

"That's none of your concern. Besides, why the heck a respected figure like you attending a flashy event like this, Colonel ? " I huffed, turning away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Before I could take another breath, his hand gripped my shoulder, firm and unyielding, forcing me to face him once more.

"To be honest, I don't care as long as you're safe, pips. But do you know who that man is? Did you really accept a job without any research beforehand ? How careless are you??," His eyes locked onto mine, searching intently for even the slightest hint of an answer.

Did he seriously believe this was a mission? This idiot—. I pushed off his grip and stepped back, putting some distance between us both.

"What the fuck Caleb?!, I told you it's none of your business ?," I snapped, running a hand through my hair. Before he could reply, I pressed on.

"Yes, I know exactly who he is, and No, this is not a mission. I’m here of my own free will," I said firmly, letting the words settle between us.

After a brief pause, I continued with shaky breath, my tone heavy with challenge. "Didn’t the Fleet already know I was in the N109 zone? What do you think happened there, Caleb?".

The question struck Caleb like lightning, I could see various emotions cross his face before settling into one, Anger.

"You know who he is and you still out here with him?? Are you INSANE, pips?! Do you know how dangerous he is?!," the strings of questions edged with anger makes me flinch again.

"And what the fuck do you mean, 'what happened there?', What are you trying to imply ?," Caleb cursed, taking a step forward before stopping. He hesitates before continuing.

"He kills people for a living, for fuck's sake," he grumbles, frustation clearly displayed on his features.

"And you don't?," I laughed, the question hanging in the air. It silenced him beyond words.

Caleb was stunned at my accusation, watching him staggering back slowly makes me feel guilty for saying that.

Despite your anger, you realize Caleb is just worried about you. Gravely worried. Who are you kidding? The memories of those few days you guys spent together in Skyhaven should have made that clear, yet it still takes you by surprise.

Sometimes it hits you how Caleb, your Caleb, always make sure you are within his sight. Even back when you were kids.

Afterall, he is still Caleb. One of the few people I care for and -...the few that deeply cares about me. Looking down, I sighed.

"Look, it's fine Caleb. I'm fine, me and him, we are..- acquittances...at best. Well, he didn't..- exactly do anything bad to me," I shrugged hesitantly.

Well he did kindap and restrained me for what? three days?, but hey everyone make mistakes right? Haha

"How exactly do you want me to believe that? Do you even have evidence?," Caleb snorts, still not trusting the poor explanation.

"What if the man himself, vouch for that?," a familiar, silky voice responds.

Finally

Sylus walked right in between the both of us. He looked at Caleb for a second before turning to me.

"Are you okay, sweetie? You look exhausted,"

"I'm..-fine, just tired. You did leave me alone for hours, jerk,"

"You know how business works, it takes a long time to process but I'm done now," Sylus chuckled, stepping to my side facing the other man.

"If you don't believe her, I can asure you that she's fine and this outing of ours? Just a payback for the accusation she threw at me initially," Sylus explains, staring right into Caleb's face.

"Accu-sations ?," Caleb was taken aback. What type of accusation that fueled her to confront a highly wanted criminal?

"Uhhh, about tha-,"

"She accused me of killing you and your grandma I believe, her resolve was so strong she succeded in shooting me," Sylus smirks as if the explanation was some kind of a joke.

It was silent for a minute before Caleb speaks

"Pips, you..- you did that for me and gran?.. -For us?," the anger has left Caleb by now. He couldn't believe what he just heard, his pips trying to deliver justice for him but at the wrong address it seems.

She did it for me? For me and grandma? Caleb was touched but the fact that she was putting her life on a thread just to meet this man still bothers him.

Noticing Caleb had eased up after the explanation, you seized the moment to strengthen Sylus's explanation, " Yeah, I did - anddd one thing let to another. So now we're like business partners , just helping each other out,"

Sylus raised his eyebrow at my not-so-true claims but I nudged his side a little hard, hinting him to play along. He smirks. This man!

"If that’s all, I think you should head back inside. Mr. Caleb, your senior was looking for you just as we wrapped up our business discussion."

Caleb stiffened, he quickly glanced at his watch. Crap, had he really been gone this long?

Caleb sighed, "Fine, I’ll let it go... For Now. But you still owe me a proper explanation, Pips," he paused before shooting a pointed look . "I’ll call you later. And you—" Caleb’s sharp gaze landed on Sylus. "Take care of her, got it? If so much as a single hair is out of place, I will—"

"Yes I understand mother hen, now shoo. Get back to work," my hand gesturing towards the door. Caleb clicked his tounge at me, taking one last look, and he finally left.

Not even a few seconds later

"So, I make a living by killing people, huh? That’s crude," Sylus remarked as soon as Caleb was out of sight.

"Oh shut up Sylus, just take me back home neoww," I groaned impatiently.

"As you wish, kitten," he chuckled.

***

So yeah everyone, sorry for the wait 🙏🏻. I had to ask my friend to help me construct some of the sentences and dialogues, hehe.

This is my version of the ending, I'm not sure if this is angsty or dramatic but hopefully this is up to your taste. Thanks again for your kind words and of course, anyone want to write an alternate ending of this. Please do 😝🙌🏻 (especially smut)

I was thinking of writing another prompt on 'what if Caleb actually held the fake funeral of us' 🤔 but I have my finals next week 😩😩( wish me luck 🤞🏻😀). See you when I see you, xoxo

[pandapetals]

Academic Jealousy

Logan gets jealous of the new professor coming to your office to chat.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"You have a point," you said with a warm smile, leaning back in your chair, "but I think there would be a lot more evidence if Shakespeare was just a pseudonym. The sheer volume of work makes it pretty unlikely." Your fingers idly traced the spine of a well-worn copy of Hamlet on your desk, as you glanced up at the new professor across from you.

Professor Sean Cassidy, the latest addition to the university’s art department, had been full of bold opinions since the day he arrived, most of which you found interesting—if not a little excessive at times. 

He was charming in that intellectual way, the kind of person who could carry on about obscure literary theories and historical conspiracies for hours. The students adored him, and lately, he’d been stopping by your office more often, eager to exchange ideas or debate over some historical or literary quirk.

Sean smiled, leaning forward just slightly, his eyes sparkling with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for academic debates. "Well, I don’t know," he mused, voice smooth and confident. "There are some compelling theories. Maybe I’ll convince you one day."

Before you could respond, a low voice cut through the conversation from the doorway, rough but unmistakably familiar. "Convince her of what, exactly?"

You turned in your seat, already grinning before you even saw him. Logan stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest. His usual scowl was in place, but there was something else there too—something a little more possessive, hidden behind his narrowed eyes as they flicked between you and Sean.

"Logan," you said, your tone light and teasing as you glanced at him, "What a surprise."

"Yeah," he muttered, pushing off the doorframe and strolling into your office with that unmistakable swagger of his. "Thought I’d swing by, see how your day’s goin’." His gaze shifted briefly to Sean, sizing him up without bothering to be subtle about it.

Sean, to his credit, didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t let it show. "We were just discussing some Shakespearean theories," he said, offering Logan a polite nod. "Your wife has quite the literary insight."

Logan’s lip twitched slightly, the ghost of a smirk forming as he moved to stand behind your chair, resting a hand on your shoulder. His thumb rubbed slow circles against your skin, casual but deliberate. "Yeah, I know," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "I hear it every day."

You couldn’t help but bite back a smile, knowing exactly what was going on. Logan had been doing this all week—dropping by your office unannounced, making an excuse to be near you whenever Professor Cassidy was around. He’d even taken to making snide remarks about the man’s "historical inaccuracies" during casual conversation, though it was clear what his real issue was.

"Logan," you murmured, tipping your head back to look up at him, your eyes gleaming with amusement. "I was just about to wrap up here."

Logan’s eyes flicked down to meet yours, and there was something playful lurking behind his usual gruff exterior. "That so?" he muttered, leaning just slightly over the back of your chair. "Hope I wasn’t interruptin' anything important."

"Not at all," Sean replied smoothly, though the tension in the room had become noticeable. He glanced at his watch and stood, flashing you a charming smile. "I should probably get going. Another class to teach but we’ll finish that conversation later, yeah?" His eyes lingered on you just a second too long, but you pretended not to notice.

"Of course," you replied, keeping your tone friendly and professional. "Looking forward to it."

Sean gave one final nod, then slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with Logan. Whose mood was now hovering somewhere between irritated and smug.

"You know," you said as soon as the door clicked shut, standing up from your chair and turning to face him, "he’s just a colleague."

Logan huffed, crossing his arms again, his jaw clenching slightly. "Guy’s got somethin’ else on his mind. You can tell by the way he looks at you."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to him. "Is that what this is about?"

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but his eyes betrayed him. "I just don’t like the way he’s sniffin’ around here, that’s all. He keeps actin’ like he’s got all the answers."

You chuckled, resting your hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "Logan, no one compares to you. Not in any way." Your voice was soft and reassuring but laced with just enough teasing to make him crack a smile.

Logan’s gaze softened, his arms loosening slightly as he reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "Yeah?" he muttered, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always made your heart skip a beat. "You sure about that?"

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Positive. Besides, you’re the only one who can correct my history and steal my heart at the same time."

Logan’s lips quirked into a grin at that, and he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering like he was staking his claim all over again. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and the last bit of tension melted away, replaced by that familiar warmth that always filled the space between you.

"Good," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. "Just makin’ sure."

You smiled up at him, shaking your head slightly. "Adorable. You know that, right?"

"Don’t push it, sweetheart," he teased, though his arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him.

As the last flickers of jealousy faded from his eyes, all you could do was smile and press your lips to his again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1211

Chapter 32:

The Road was silent and empty, the tension between the three of you thick.

After Billy confessed that he was looking to find his brother at the end of the road, you had all remained quiet and simply kept walking.

No one brought up what Evanora said about Agatha and You, what happened to Alice or what they witnessed at the last trial.

You walked at Billy's right side and Agatha at his left; leaving him trapped between the two of you.

He said nothing more for a while, but it was because he was trying to use his powers. Well, not his magic based on but the other set he had inherited; most likely from Wanda.

Billy had the ability to read minds, at least with some partial control. Either he had to be very close emotionally with someone to easily access their thoughts and establish a connection, or try really hard.

And that's what he did, trying to focus first on Agatha and then on you. Yet the more he tried, the more blocks he found; as if his ability could not bypass your minds and find your thoughts.

With you, he was not fully surprised but with Agatha... she was magicless. He should have been able to get something out of her, but all of his attempts have been futile.

What he didn't know was the fact that both of you could sense him, and you also took notice of his little frown; a big clue that he was mentally struggling with something.

In this case, the mental barriers you both had established to keep noisy telepaths out of your heads.

"You'll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read our minds." Agatha said, deciding to address the elephant in the room. "Especially hers," she motioned for you. "She is immune to noisy telepaths and mind readers."

Billy looked at you, surprised.

You shrugged your shoulders. "It's part of my magic. It neuters and blocks anything foreign." You explained. "It would take a very strong magic individual to be able to bypass it"

"Hmmm," he exclaimed and kept walking, clearly not wanting to continue this conversation or admit out loud that he was trying to snoop around with his abilities.

"You just can ask me your questions. Aloud." Agatha said, not liking this silence that silently existed between the three of you.

Plus, she was curious to find more about this Billy. What he had in mind or wished to know, what he thought and questioned. Now that there was no stupid sigil to stop him from exposing everything.

She just had to tread this carefully.

"Okay, then, where's Rio?" Billy asked, and you smirked on amusement, at both how smart the boy was and how quicky he cornered Agatha.

Agatha cleared her throat. "Not that question."

Billy looked at you, hoping you would offer some insight into this creepy green witch with questionable motives and loyalties.

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't say anything," you replied softly as you pushed a small branch to the side and allowed the others to walk first before you followed them.

"Is Wanda Maximoff really dead?" He asked next, and you turned your head to face Agatha, curious about that as well.

"Yes." She said with confidence but quickly changed her mind. "No. Maybe."

"Did you see a body?"

Agatha got a flash of the morgue body she saw while fighting to escape Wanda's spell and be free of this stupid Agnes persona that she was forced to have for three whole years.

"Yes, I did."

"Did anybody else?"

She thought for a moment. "It's hard to say." She confessed honestly and yet received a questionable look from the boy by her side. "Hey, you want straight answers, ask a straight lady."

You scoffed in amusement and had to place your hand in front of your mouth to hide your laughter that was threatening to come out.

Once you calmed down faintly, you saw the others looking at you. "Don't look at me like that. It was funny... and accurate," you bemused. "Plus, let's admit there is not really a straight person in this coven...or any coven I have met."

Agatha nodded. "Straight people and coven do not mix."

It was Billy's turn to scoff. "Oh, please. That's just a rumour. "

You and Agatha smirked, but it was your lover who chose to comment first.

"Is it now?" She questioned rhetorically. "Then, please, do your research and find me a coven that did not have questionable romantic preferences. I will wait. "

Billy opened his mouth to argue, but he came to realize he didn't truly know any covens in real life. The covens he studied and read about was not a lot of accurate information to trust.

Before he could think of something to save himself from yet another embarassment, he too notice of something up ahead.

Everyone came to a halt and observed your next trial, this time a haunting dark eyrie castle on top of a rock. Even the clouds and the background seemed to match its aesthetic.

"This is new," Agatha commented.

"I have a bad feeling bout this," you confessed and rubbed your hands faintly, feeling your hair stand on end in warning.

"We don't really have much of a choice," Billy reminded you.

Left with nothing else to say, you continued down the path; mentally preparing yourself for what is to come.

Billy and you had yet to face your trials, which both comforted and also worried you. On one hand, if the next trial was for any of you two, it meant you could be okay even if Jen and Liia join later.

But godess help if the trial is for Lilia or Rio, for it would not end well unless they would magically appear right on time, summoned by the road.

You were not sure if that was possible, for last time you, Agatha, and the coven had not gotten separated. Instead, you have stuck together even if some of your fellow witches perished on the way.

You came to a halt in front of the gothic huge wooden double door, two heavy metallic rings with intricate designs right in the middle; an old but familiar to you way of knocking on doors before door bells were invented.

"Guess we don't knock, right?" Billy asked, looking at you and Agatha.

"We didn't the last time," you reminded him. "Or any of the last times," you continued in a mumble.

"Then why do you do now?" Agatha questioned rhetorically and pushed the heavy doors or at least tried. "They look far lighter than they are," she grunted, trying not to make a joke out of herself because she knew Billy would never let it go.

Thankfully, Jen was not present, for she would have commented already and not in a nice way.

You looked at Billy and then chose to join her, doing your best to push against the heavy doors. Eventually, your combined efforts seemed to pay off, and you managed to make a big enough gap to pass through; darkness blocked your vision for a moment before things cleared.

And once you could see again, you came face to face with your next trial.

Chapter 33

[cherbii]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS | Gojo Satoru

summary ➜ you could easy forget your old fling, and boss, but when there’s a new p.a swooning for him, you can’t help but want him back, and want what you two used to have.

warnings ➜ language, smut! dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, blindfold sex, semi-public sex, office sex, oral (F), cum eating, thigh fucking, praising, multiple orgasms, fingering, mdni

[part 2]

Your fingers nimbly clicked against the keyboard of your computer, eyebrows drawn together, met with a crinkle in focus. You sat in your office, one that matched everyone else's. Though it was more of a small boxed off area, where people could pass by as they pleased.

Your one hand moved swiftly to the mouse before clicking, then your printer began to whir, the green light flashed before it was spurting out inked paper, warm like a fresh loaf of bread. You patiently waited for all pages to be printed before sliding them into a file, kicking yourself off of your office chair and striding towards your bosses office.

Satoru Gojo was your boss, the enigmatic and charismatic head of the department. Though his boss was Nanami Kento, Gojo was the second in command, and he held a commanding presence that demanded both respect and attention.

Your heart skipped a beat as you approached his office, your mind racing with anticipation. You turned the corner to reveal his personal assistant, Mei.

She had tightly curled, blonde hair that framed her face perfectly, and her curvy figure was accentuated by the form-fitting pencil skirt she wore. Mei glanced up from her file as she stood outside the office door, waiting. "Can I help you?"

You cleared your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. "I need to discuss the new project proposal with Gojo. It's urgent." Your tone was strong, firm, and no sense of messing around.

"Of course," Mei replied, giving you an slow nod. "Go right in; he's expecting you." She hummed, and gave you a tight lipped smile, you often got the feeling she didn't like you.

Taking a deep breath, you entered Gojo's office. The room exuded an air of power and authority, with dark wooden furniture and shelves lined with impressive accolades and certificates. Gojo himself was seated behind his large, imposing desk, his piercing blue eyes fixated on the documents before him. His perfectly styled silver hair added to his allure, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"Ah, come in," Gojo said, looking up with a smile that could charm anyone. "What can I do for you?" His eyes pierced through you, through the shades he wore, they were the same eyes that—no, you swore to forget the past.

Summoning your confidence, you began to discuss the project proposal, explaining your ideas and suggestions with passion and clarity. Gojo listened intently, nodding occasionally and asking insightful questions.

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself drawn to his genuine interest in your work and his ability to challenge your ideas, making you see things from different perspectives.

Unbeknownst to you, Mei lingered outside the office, stealing glances through the partially open door. Her heart sank as she observed the undeniable connection between you and Gojo. She knew she had feelings for him, but witnessing your professional rapport filled her with both envy and admiration.

As the meeting came to an end, Gojo complimented your work and encouraged you to move forward with the proposal. With a grateful smile, you thanked him for his support, feeling a sense of accomplishment and validation.

In the days that followed, you found yourself working more closely with Gojo, collaborating on various projects and growing closer as colleagues. The chemistry between you two was undeniable.

Mei couldn't ignore the growing attraction between you and Gojo, and her heartache became evident as she tried to mask her feelings. But she was no stranger to facing challenges head-on, and she wasn't about to let her emotions hinder her professional growth.

Determined to prove her worth and showcase her talents, Mei threw herself into her work with renewed vigor. She took on more responsibilities, impressed Nanami with her efficiency, and showed her mettle as a capable and dependable professional.

As time passed, Mei's dedication and resilience caught Gojo's attention. He began to notice her in a new light, admiring her tenacity and unwavering commitment.

You had always been ambitious and driven, striving to prove yourself in the workplace. But seeing Mei's rapid rise and the attention she garnered from Gojo ignited a competitive streak within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards her, and it became clear that the feeling was mutual.

Mei, aware of the growing tension between you, didn't shy away from the challenge. She matched your competitive spirit with unwavering determination, pushing herself even harder to outshine you in Gojo's eyes.

Each achievement she earned, every accolade she received, served as a constant reminder of your own insecurities and shortcomings.

As the rivalry between you and Mei intensified, it began to affect the office dynamics. Colleagues noticed the subtle hostility between you, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere within the team.

However, Gojo remained oblivious to the underlying tension, preoccupied with the demands of his role. At least, that's how it seemed.

On a random Tuesday, as you were engrossed in your work, Mei approached your desk with a triumphant smile on her face. She couldn't resist the urge to gloat about her latest accomplishment, aware of the effect it would have on you.

"Did you hear?" Mei asked, feigning innocence. "Gojo praised my recent presentation. He said it was one of the best he's seen in years."

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain your composure. "That's great for you, Mei.” You replied curtly, trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.

Mei's smile widened, and she leaned in closer. "It seems Gojo has taken quite an interest in my work. I guess some people just have what it takes."

The words stung, fueling your growing envy. In that moment, you made a silent vow to prove yourself, to show Gojo that you were just as capable—if not more—than Mei. The rivalry had reached its breaking point, and it was time to confront your feelings head-on.

Determined to gain Gojo's attention, you dedicated long hours to perfecting your projects, leaving no room for errors. You poured your heart and soul into your work, channeling your jealousy into a relentless pursuit of excellence.

As weeks turned into months, Gojo noticed your transformation. He recognized the fire in your eyes, the drive that pushed you to go above and beyond. He appreciated your work ethic and the passion you exhibited. But unbeknownst to you, Gojo was also aware of the growing tension between you and Mei.

One day, he called you and Mei into his office for a meeting. As you both entered, the atmosphere was palpable with unspoken animosity. Gojo, ever perceptive, sensed the underlying tension and decided to address it head-on.

"I've noticed the competitive dynamic between the two of you," Gojo began, his voice carrying a hint of sternness. "While I appreciate your dedication and drive, it's crucial to remember that we are a team. Our success lies in our ability to work together, not tear each other down."

You kept silent, not saying a thing, it was true. Very true. But you had a heart made of steel and was too stubborn to back down.

The short meeting was kept curt, Gojo called your name. "Wait, please stay, I have something I need to discuss with you." Gojo's voice rang out as you were about to leave, you didn't miss the nasty snarl Mei sent your way before she left. You went back to your previous chair, hovering before Gojo spoke again. "Come here, I don't bite."

Your eyes widened for a second before you slowly walked around the massive desk, to where Gojo sat, inclined on his seat with a boyish grin, legs spread. His pale hand patted his lap, an invitation. "I don't think I should." You insisted.

"Oh come on. It's not like you haven't sat on my lap before. Hell, you even came all over it—when? Like a year ago. Don't be shy now." He moved his sunglasses down, sending you a wink. His one foot kept the office chair swivelling, side to side, slowly.

You felt warmness creep up your neck and prayed he couldn't tell, suddenly, your shirts collar felt as though it was choking you. "Sir, that's rather unprofessional." You held your walls high.

Gojo chuckled. Laughed. "Oh, but we're far from that. So come. Now." That was an order, and you knew it.

Your legs felt stiff as you walked closer to him, to have his being hand grip your wrist and yank you, chest first onto him. Your hands awkwardly pressed against his shoulders as you straightened your back.

"See?"

"What do you want, Gojo? Last I remembered, you were the one saying that this can't happen again due to your power. What's changed?" After your words, the black in his eyes swelled, shamelessly looking at your lips that held a coating of your favourite lipstick, one he often fantasised being smeared across the both of you, on different parts.

"You've changed,” his thumb went to your lips, collecting the lipstick before dragging his thumb down your chin. His lips were left parted after he spoke, before closing when he took a swallow, eyes momentarily fluttering closed, before his bright eyes shot to yours. "I see you begging for attention, don't think I haven't noticed. I see the look in your eye whenever I'm with Mei."

You pursed your lips, now you knew he noticed though to be quite frank, you thought you were subtle. Gojo let out a chuckle, his body reverberating underneath you. "And what look is that?"

Gojo's tongue darted out, wetting his lips. You watched his tongue's movements, the shine of his lips, mind wondering to what other liquids would make his lips wet. "The same look in your eye now, like you want me to bend you over and fuck you for everyone to know who's cock you belong to."

At Gojo's words, you scoffed. "Who said I belong to you?"

"Alright. Tell me, have you fucked anyone else since out time together?"

"Yes, I have actually." Your chin raised, taking pride in that (for some reason), you felt Gojo's hands move from where it still was on your wrist, to the lower part of your back, where he began to tug free your blouse from your pencil skirt.

"Did they make you cum?"

He pulled the rest of your shirt out, immediately going to pop open the lower buttons, stopping short when it was halfway done before letting his hands fall to the side, limply. Your mouth felt dry as you tried to swallow.

Your head tipped down, and that's all Gojo needed to know. "Use your words."

"No." Your voice was quiet when you spoke, staring at the fingers that toyed with his black tie.

"Ah. Well, have you touched yourself?" You nodded, Gojo did as well, just much slower, "Did you cum then?" Another nod. "When last did you touch yourself?"

Why was the room feeling hot all of a sudden? Gojo's hands were now removing the small blazer you wore, then going back to un-buttoning your shirt. You let him. You'd always. You cleared your throat before speaking. "Last night."

Something in his eyes flashed. "Who did you cum to? Hmm? Who was in your pretty little mind as you fucked your pretty pussy?" His tone didn't hold any playfulness now, it was far more malicious. "Was it Geto? I know you two used to fuck around a lot. Or was it Nanami? You want an older man, huh? Such a slut."

"I-It was you." You blurted, a sense of embarrassment washed over at you. The night sky twinkled from city lights, a beautiful view you could see from the floor to ceiling windows in Gojo's office. "I came, because of you."

Gojo smirked. He knew it was because of him, in some way, he hoped you only came because of him. "I see. Well go on."

"W-What?"

"What were you thinking about? My mouth? Fingers? Cock? Where did this happen? Tell me, baby. Set the scene for me." He slowly removed your blouse, exposing your lace covered tits.

"Um," your skin felt hot to the touch from your immense blushing. You didn't want to tell him, yet you also wanted to. Because it wasn't ordinary vanilla sex, it was a whole lot more spicier. "Your cock, and i-it was in here and...I was—I was uhm..."

"You were what, pretty girl?"

"Your blindfold. The one you used to wear around. Yeah, I had that on." You watched him smirk again before feeling the chair roll back, Gojo's arm moved to open a drawer before retrieving the exact blindfold.

"This one?" You nodded. "Can I put it on you?" Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You bit your lip before accepting.

Carefully, Gojo placed the fabric over your eyes, now, you were visually impaired. All your other senses spiked.

A gasp fell from your lips when you felt yourself being picked up and placed on the floor, hands flying out to hold onto his arms. Then, you felt your skirt being pulled down, exposing more of your stockings and your panties. Your body got pushed back as you fell onto the desk, messing up piles of paper, yet Gojo didn't care.

A warm body pressed between your legs and a hand cupped your jaw before hot breath that smelt of mint caressed your ear. "Continue your story." Gojo whispered in your ear.

"It was just like this. Y-You fucked me many times, I think I came three times, but someone walked in, I don't know who,” you mumbled. You wanted to rip the blindfold off when you felt him move away, but then your ears caught sound of fabric ruffling before you soon felt warm flesh touch your own. "It actually started with your mouth."

You could recall vivid flashbacks of your dream, how real it felt. How hot and passionate it all was. Instead of your bullet vibrator you used, it was his lips, tongue and teeth lapping away at your cunt.

You felt his hands ball around your stockings, knuckle grazing over your clothes pussy before your stockings got ripped. "Can I?"

His finger brushed over the spot where your leg met your pussy. You hurriedly nodded before blurting out a yes. The cold air hit your puffy clit before anything else, then his even colder fingertip that elicited a gasp from your lips. It rubbed tantalisingly slow circles.

You almost forgot what it was like to have someone else's hands on you. You let out a groan of pleasure when you get his thumb join, pinching your clit that sent your legs into a spasm.

"Fuck, Gojo." You moaned, his fingers flicked, pinched and rubbed away at your clit. You felt a blow of air meet your swelled bundle, legs closing on reflex only to enclose around his head. His hands pried your legs further apart.

"Try again." He mumbled, before he lolled his tongue out, watching saliva dribble onto your clit before he sucked his all up and spat it out again.

"Satoru, oh god." Your hands flew to his hair, with a vice grip as your thighs humped on his face.

Even through the dark fabric, you could feel his eyes watching you, the way your plump lips fell open as he started to suck on your clit, teeth grazing over, adding to the stimulation. You could hear the suckles he made, and the groans that left his lips. You remembered him briefly saying pleasuring a woman turns him on.

His hands were wrapped around your thighs as you ground your pussy onto his face. And that's all it was. You grinding into him while he ate you out like a starved man. It didn't take long for you to squirm under his hold.

"I'm gonna cum." You threw your head back as your legs twitched.

Your lower belly started to bubble and before you knew it, your cum was dribbling down his chin. His lips moved down and slurped your hole, tongue plunging into your pulsing pussy to drink all your juices.

He stood up, your legs still on your shoulders. At this angle, the bottom of his boner wedged between your pussy lips. "How many times did you say you came?"

"We-We're not done?" You shrieked, though you still felt your hole clench and you were sure he could feel in on the shaft of his dick.

You failed to miss the bead of pre-cum that grew on his tip, slowly running down a vein and onto your pussy lip. A high pitched moan left your lips when you felt his hips move back, then your walls stretched open as he thrusted into you at a decent pace.

"How many times did you say you came again?" He snarled, he grabbed both your ankles and drew your legs together, the flesh of your thighs squeezing your pussy which pressed against his cock, he held your legs straight up as he began to piston in and out of you. A beautiful moan left his lips at the new pressure. "Answer me, slut."

"Three! Three times!" You squealed as his thrusts became faster, balls slapping against your ass. Oh how you missed this, his cock splitting you open as you became a mess underneath him.

"Then three times it is,” he bent his body around your legs, his free hand fisting the fabric of your bra before snapping it loose. Your breasts spilt from their confines, jiggling roughly as he fucked you harder. "Fuck, so beautiful. Better than I remember."

"Satoru, too—too fast,” you moaned, fingers clawing at the wooden desk, back arching against it. Short huffs of air left your lips, already so sensitive, you were close. "Gonna cum s-so soon."

"You can take it, I know you can,” he cooed, finger slipping between your thighs and provoking your clit. "You're already taking me so well, your pussy is swallowing me up. Good girl."

Your slick bubbles popped, wet sounds, slapping and moans bounced around in the office. Your hands were making a mess of his papers, now torn or crumpled.

"G-Gonna—!" You didn't get to finish your words before hot liquid squirted onto your thighs, he opened your legs and allowed for your squirting to spray onto him. His name fell from your lips like a mantra.

He quickly pulled out, closing your legs against before fucking your thighs, not a minute later, his cum was spraying onto the front area of your pussy before he dropped your legs, grabbed your hips and turned you around.

"You did so well, baby,” he kissed your shoulder. Hand flattening your sweaty hair. You could feel the wetness you made on him press against your ass. "One more,” he nudged your legs apart, before slowly inserting his cock again. "I know you still have one more for me."

"Gentle, please." You mumbled. Your head was spinning, your body ached yet yearned more. Gojo pressed soft kissed to your neck then moved your head to him. You felt his lips meet your own, you gladly welcomed him. It was slow yet open mouthed and nasty kisses.

He begin to rock his hips again setting another fire to your core. You hadn't even noticed when the blindfold got slipped off.

Even at the awkward angle, he still continued to kiss you, one hand threading through your hair while the other rubbed your throbbing clit.

This time, this round was passionate. It could easily have been mistaken for more than pent up lust. Your stomach rolled, you were closer than you've ever been. Gojo could tell by the way you failed to kiss him back, how your legs wobbled all and you moaned into his mouth.

Before he knew it, he felt your warm liquid run down his cock. He broke the kiss, letting his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder while you rolled your head back to allow him more space. He moaned your name, his thrusts became short and sloppy.

"In me, please." You begged.

"You on a pill?" He mumbled against your skin.

"No, but I need it in me, I'll take one tomorrow." Your pleas worked, a gasp left your lips when you felt fuller than you ever have.

Your stomach felt warm with the new secretion. Gojo pulled out and watched you drop onto the floor.

"Fuck me," he whispered. "You did so well." He gently made you face him, pressing a kiss to you're forehead. He helped you clean up and dress yourself.

As he was about to walk you to the door, the both of you heard the unmistakable sounds of heavy footsteps. Your eyes widened and your heart dropped.

Well shit.

[ccwritesninja]

The Aftermath-Itachi

A/N: A bit of a shorter installment, but please let me know what you guys think! I've been loving ya'lls comments and insights into Itachi, Sasuke and the mc's feelings. Chat with me about your thoughts or leave a comment if you want. I try to reply to every single one.

CW: SMUT (Just a little bit)

Read on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Y/n!”

Sasuke jerked himself free from Kiyoshi’s jaws the minute her grip slackened. He tore down the hall, sliding onto his knees next to your unconscious body. 

“Y/n. Onee-san, wake up. Come on, please.”

His pleas were soft. Broken.

He was dimly aware of Naruto kneeling beside him, but the only thing he could focus on was you.

Your eyes had been open only moments ago, pupils dilated with a strange horror that Sasuke had never seen in them before. Itachi had fled like a coward, leaving your broken form crumpled on the floor beneath his feet. 

The image of his parents’ dead bodies flashed through his head. Had he let it happen again? Had he allowed Itachi to destroy the only person he had left?

Sasuke leaned his ear against your chest. A twinge of relief traveled through him when he began to hear the measured thump of your heartbeat. 

Still, you made no acknowledgement that you heard his voice.

Sasuke didn’t understand it. You were strong, one of the best kunoichi of your time before you had given up your ANBU position to raise him. 

All it had taken for Itachi to break you was a single look. What had he done? Why wouldn’t you wake up?

“Please,” he whispered. “Onee-san, open your eyes.”

“It’s no use, cub,” Kiyoshi murmured.

Sasuke’s dark eyes shot up, fixing the tiger with a sharp glare. “Shut up! You don’t know that!”

The tigress bared her teeth at him. “A genjutsu like this is not easily broken. You have no idea the abilities Itachi possesses. She did, and she took the brunt of them for you.”

“There has to be something-”

“There is nothing, stupid boy! If you had just obeyed her-”

Jiraiya cleared his throat. “Now is not the time, Kiyoshi. I know Y/n is dear to you.”

Naruto’s wide blue eyes darted between the two of them. “Is she going to be okay?”

Kiyoshi bowed her head, fixing her sharp eyes back on your limp body. 

“She needs a healer.”

“You’re right,” Jiraiya agreed. “And the woman you’re talking about is the one we’ve come to find.”

—

Inky, black feathers littered the window sill outside your hospital room. Itachi’s crow remained fixed on the ledge of the building, keeping a near constant vigil.

Sometimes, the shades were drawn and it was unable to catch sight of you. On other days, it would watch you lie there, carefully observing the slow rise and fall of your chest.

Nurses and medics would bustle in and out of your room to tend to you, changing the bags on your I.V. and performing medical checks that yielded no results.

You didn’t wake. You didn’t move. 

Sasuke was there multiple times a day. He would stop in before he began training and return hours later. Sometimes he even brought along his pink-haired teammate, Sakura. The girl always brought flowers for you.

Kiyoshi was there too, from time to time. She would curl up at the foot of your bed, as if guarding you, much to the dismay of your nurses. Itachi saw one nearly pass out as she entered the room and saw the tigress lounging on the tile.

When he was alone, Sasuke would speak to you. Always when he thought no one else could hear him. 

“Please, onee-san,” he would whisper. “Just wake up. I swear I’ll get stronger. I swear I’ll learn how to protect you.”

Itachi couldn’t stomach the sight for too long. You laid there, limp and broken, because of what he had done to you. 

The memory of your face as he trapped you in the genjutsu twisted like a knife inside his chest. Your expression of abject horror would be ingrained in his mind forever. 

And you accepted his brutality so willingly. You had barely even tried to fight back. You were as reluctant to hurt him as he was you, and, yet, Itachi was the monster that had gone through with it. 

It hadn’t been that long ago that he was the one who protected you. How many times had he saved your life? How many times had you woken, shaking from a nightmare, and sought comfort in the warmth of his arms?

Maybe it had been a mistake to reveal the truth to you, to entangle you further in the mess he created. He had encouraged you to put your faith in him again, only to snap it into pieces once more.

He should have allowed you to believe that he massacred his family for the thrill of it. He should never have given any indication that you were still etched into his wretched heart, giving it reason to beat day after day. 

He had selfishly, foolishly wished that he could become your hero again. Your Itachi. Not the pride of the Uchiha, shouldering the weight of his entire bloodline's fate upon his shoulders. Not the clan-killer who destroyed his entire family.

Just Itachi. 

That was always who he had been to you. He showed you a side of himself that hardly anyone else had ever seen, and it had only made you fall deeper in love with him. He wasn’t sure how he had ever managed that in the first place. He hadn’t deserved it then and he certainly didn’t now.

The soft tranquility of the early years of your relationship was a distant dream. You had confessed that you still loved him in that cabin, but surely those feelings were dead now. 

Itachi hoped he would become nothing more than a ghost to you. A passing thought, a distant nightmare.

He could still watch over you, ensuring your safety, always from a distance. He would catch precious, fleeting glimpses of you before Sasuke eventually came calling and killed him. That was all he would allow. He had to spare you from the utter devastation he continued to leave in his wake. 

He could never come that close to you again.

—

The agony of Itachi’s tsukuyomi eventually gave way to vivid dreams. They came in short flashes, and were always of him, in one way or another.

You ghosted though the memories, feeling every touch as if you were living it once more. 

Was this a side effect of the genjutsu? Had Itachi given you these dreams, or were they your mind’s attempt at comfort after enduring such a painful ordeal?

Every sensation felt so real, so genuine. You let yourself tumble through the darkness and into a bright haze, falling further from the sharp, searing pain you had suffered at his hands. 

—

The sudden warmth of Itachi’s calloused fingers cradling your face was jarring. You blinked awake to meet his worried gaze. 

The thin sheets and stark, white curtains surrounding the bed told you that you were in the ANBU infirmary. You had nearly died after creating a diversion so that an injured Yugao and Shisui could flee to safety.

The last thing you remembered was being beaten to a bloody pulp on the forest floor. Your head was pounding, vision fading as you began to sink toward the darkness. You were pretty sure a couple of your teeth were resting in the grass next to your cheek.

You focused on the sharp white color, stained with flecks of crimson, and held onto it in an attempt to remain conscious. 

Suddenly, a flaming, red pulse of light overtook the looming darkness. The force of it caused your hair to flutter around your face.

Itachi stood before you, engulfed in the glow of his susanoo. The physical manifestation of his chakra towered over your broken body, shielding you, as the group of Hidden Mist ninja advanced. He proceeded to cut through them as if they were made of paper.

That was the last thing you remembered before finally blacking out.

“Reckless, foolish girl,” Itachi muttered.

He peered down at you from where he sat at your bedside. The infirmary was blanketed in a hushed quiet. You could hear his chair creak as he leaned forward, meeting your tired gaze.

He sounded angry, but his eyes were glinting with anguish. He likely thought your decision was careless, stupid. Just the type of thing you would do.

Your entire body ached. The heavy cast on your left leg told you it was broken, and all you wanted was to sink back into the fog of sleep. You didn’t think you could stomach one of Itachi’s lectures right now.

You opened your mouth, ready to bite out that you weren’t a genius like him, that you didn’t have time to come up with some brilliant strategy to save the others and your own skin. You made the only move you could, and you didn’t regret it.

That was when he leaned down, pressing his lips to the center of your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, hand resting on the back of your head as he hovered over you. 

He leaned in to rest his forehead gently against yours. His scent washed over you, woody and familiar. Pine, mixed with a tinge of sweat and blood from the battle.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

—

When you opened your eyes again, you were lying in the cool grass of a seemingly endless field. You were somewhere in Iwa, gazing up at the stars above you. 

A cool wind rustled across the wide, open landscape, but Itachi’s side was nestled warmly against yours. 

Shisui snored loudly somewhere behind you. You should have been sleeping, like he was. Itachi had kindly offered to take the first watch, but you found yourself not wanting to leave your place beside him. 

He spoke softly as he pointed out the different constellations overheard. They littered the sky in a glittering display, free of the light pollution of the city. 

“And there’s Mitsu Boshi.”

“Where?”

He pointed. “There.”

“On the right?”

You lifted your own finger. Itachi’s lips twitched. He reached out, guiding your hand slightly to the left. 

“There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, yeah. Pretty.”

“Very.”

Itachi was no longer looking at the constellation, but at you. His fingers were still grazing yours. He didn’t pull them away.

You glanced over at him, meeting his dark eyes. Everything but the two of you seemed to fade away. Even Shisui’s snoring was a distant buzz in the background.

You flushed under the heat of Itachi’s gaze and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see it much in the dark. He always looked at you like you were something beautiful. Something to be revered. 

When he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours, that was exactly how you felt.

Special.

Loved. 

—

You were suddenly breathless under him as Itachi thrust inside you, pressing soft, wet kisses along your jaw. His lips dipped against the hollow of your throat. His usually pale skin was hot and flushed, dark eyes shimmering with a vulnerability you had never seen in them before. He was completely lost in the feel of you, of your thighs locked around his toned hips, of your calloused fingers tugging and tangling in his long, dark hair.

He relished each whimper he pulled from your lips, every single gasp of his name. You were so wet for him, so sweet. You took his cock so well. 

He mumbled the praises against the skin of your neck, slick with sweat as you bucked your hips against his. His teeth sunk into his lower lip, muffling the sound of his own deep groan as your walls fluttered around him.

His hands fisted in the sheets underneath you, twisting, squeezing. You pulled him closer, ankles locking around his back as you tugged him down into another kiss.

His last shred of control slipped as he slammed his lips against your own. His teeth clicked against yours, eagerly slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Itachi was everywhere, his body entirely intertwined with yours. You were completely enveloped in him and you never wanted it to stop.

His thumb came down to rub soft, measured circles on your clit. Heat pooled in your lower abdomen.

Another whimper slipped from you, muffled by the intensity of Itachi’s kiss.

He leaned up on his forearms to admire the fucked-out look on your face, still caging your body under his, still hitting that perfect spot inside you. 

His thrusts became quicker, shallower, as he neared his limit.

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you, Y/n.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

—

You woke with a gasp, bolting upright so quickly that you almost headbutted the young, blonde woman leaning over you. 

She pulled back, studying you with honeyed brown eyes and a frown on her face. Her hand came to rest on her hip.

“Easy, kid. You’ll be alright.”

Kid? She couldn’t have been but a few years older than you.

She and a crowd of other people were huddled at the side of your bed. Sasuke was there, along with Naruto, and another woman with short, dark hair that you didn’t recognize. Gai was also there for some reason, anxiously wringing his hands together.

“Granny Tsunade!” Naruto cried, tugging at the sleeve of the blonde woman’s shawl. “We’ve still gotta fix Kakashi-sensei!”

Tsunade? Her words made sense to you then. This was the Lady Tsunade, one of the legendary Sannin. She was renowned in the Hidden Leaf for her monstrous strength and her incredible healing abilities. 

She may have looked young, but she was actually in her fifties. 

“My lady,” you breathed, bowing to her.

She waved you off. “Relax. I should be bowing to you, after what you did.”

You sat up, brow furrowing. “What I did?”

“You threw yourself in front of Itachi Uchiha for a kid. Either you’re incredibly brave, or really, really stupid.”

She turned and strode toward the door, heels clicking on the tiled floor. The others followed close behind, but Sasuke remained.

Naruto paused in the doorway, glancing back at him. “Sasuke? Are you gonna come see Kakashi-sensei?”

“You can go if you want,” you told him gently.

He frowned. “I’m good here.”

Naruto shrugged and took off down the hall with the others, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. Sasuke hovered in the silence for a moment, before he sank into a chair beside your bed, fixing his eyes on the floor.

“I think one of the Sannin just called me an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” he muttered.

Your lips curled up. With Sasuke, there was no such thing as a simple admission of affection. He was never going to say “I love you.”. This was about as close as you would ever get, and that was enough for you.

You settled back into the pillows, shifting awkwardly due to the sling on your arm. 

“I’m sorry that I scared you, Sasuke.”

 “I couldn’t protect you.”

You shook your head, reaching out to place your good hand on his mop of black hair. “You’re the kid. I’m the adult. I do the protecting, not the other way around.”

He shoved your hand away and glowered. “We should protect each other.”

“And one day, we will. But for now, your job is to get stronger. Let me protect you until then.”

His dark eyes remained trained on the floor. For a few moments, he was silent. When he finally did speak, his words were dripping with venom.

“I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

Dread washed over you. You had feared that Itachi’s return would trigger something in Sasuke. It was partially why you tried so hard to keep him in the compound that day, to avoid any and all interaction. 

It was clear that he had been struggling with feelings of inadequacy since the chunin exams. You found out what happened in the final battle from Kakashi. Naruto had saved Sakura from the Suna jinchuriki as Sasuke struggled under the strain of the curse mark. He hadn’t been able to help much. 

You knew how weak he must have felt. How useless. 

And then he had watched Itachi break your bones and mind right in front of him.

“Sasuke, I’m fine,” you promised. “I’ve had much worse.”

While your broken wrist would keep you off missions, and the mental anguish of the tsukuyomi had been intense, you were okay. You would be discharged shortly, not even in half the amount of pain you had been in when you nearly died at the hands of the Hidden Rain shinobi. You were stiff and a little sore, but this was hardly the worst injury of your career.

“It’s not just that,” Sasuke snapped.“Itachi took your life from you. Now you’re stuck with me, instead of being some badass, legendary kunoichi.”

“Hey,” you said sharply. “I’m not stuck with anything. I don’t see it that way at all.”

“Still-“ 

“No.” Your voice was stern. There was no room for argument, not this time. “Sasuke, I get to live this life with you, and that’s a choice I would make a thousand times over. I’ve never regretted it, and I never will.”

He looked up at you then, eyes watering. “I thought I lost you.”

A bitter pang of nostalgia rang through your hollow chest. It was similar to what Itachi had said to you the day he rescued you from that group of Mist ninja.

You took a deep breath and fixed Sasuke with a steely, determined look. It reminded him of the one you gave him that day in the compound, after you scooped his trembling body from the dirt.

You have me. You’ll always have me.

 “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sasuke suddenly leapt forward, catching you off guard. He threw his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You brought your hand up to his back, rubbing soft circles as he clung to you.

Tears dripped down his cheeks, falling silently onto your sweater. You closed your eyes, burying your face in his choppy hair, and held him while he cried.

No matter what happened with Itachi, Sasuke was your little brother. You made that choice all those years ago when you found him, surrounded by the bodies of his family.

You had come to learn that sometimes that was more important. You loved Sasuke, not because you needed to, but because you chose to. That meant more to you than any insignificant blood tie you still held to anyone else. It meant more than the isolation and pain you had experienced at Itachi's hand.

It meant everything.

[not-my-final-account]

The room was tense.

Constantine sat in a chair and argued with the Justice League, the newest magical threat had popped up. The door slid open and no one really payed that must attention until Constantine froze mid yell, he snapped himself out of it and pushed himself out of the chair so fast he stumbled and nearly fell. He got on one knee and bowed so low it was a surprise it hadn’t broken.

“Constrained what the hell?” Batman (whom it appeared Constantine was bowing to) said but Constantine didn’t react, there was a small sigh from the child on Batman’s right.

“You may stand up, and speak, and do normal things.” Robin said with an annoyed tone, Constantine quickly stood up straighter than perhaps he had ever been him before.

“Y-yes your highness.” Constrained stuttered, he was sweating bullets when Robin sighed again.

“It’s Robin.” Robin said

“Yes Prince Robin.” Constantine said

“No- no prince, or highness, or titles or anything about ghosts. Just Robin.” Robin said

“Yes, your- uhm, Robin.” Constantine said with a forced grin, Robin massaged his head like he had a headache.

“Constantine what was that?” Batman asked, Constantine opened his mouth to reply but Robin looked up at him and he shut his mouth quickly. Batman gave both of them a look then sat down in his seat.

Despite Constantine being brought here for his magic insight he didn’t say a word for the meeting.

Then Robin stepped out to get a drink,

“Batman is that your son?!” Constantine yelled immediately

“Yes? Ready to explain why you’re acting like this.” Batman asked

“You’re actual son? Biological? Not just a kid you picked up on the side of the road? Are you treating him right?!” Constantine asked hurriedly. Batman seemed taken aback

“Yes, he’s my child biologically, why is this important?” Batman asked, Constantine stared at him for a few seconds before blurting out

“You’re royalty.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Green Lantern asked

“What GL said.” Flash agreed

“I don’t have a clue what Constantine is talking about.” Batman said and the whole room turned to Constantine

“Batman- your son- did you know- Batman that kid is the Ghost Prince.” Constantine said bewildered

“What?” about five seperate people asked.

I laughed as Sam grabbed a handful of popcorn from my bowl,

“I cannot believe this, he’s so scared!” Tucker laughed

“When you brought in that kid did you know he was Batmans kid?” Sam asked

“He had been thrown into the unstable entrance to the Ghost Zone that they know as the ‘Lazarus pit’ when he was an infant, I figured he had to have some weird parents, but I didn’t figure this.” I said

“I still can’t believe someone would do that to a baby!” Tucker yelled “Poor Dami.”

“I know.” I agreed “Remind me to make a deal or at least talk with Constantine for him having to put up with this.” I asked

“Got it.” Tucker said

“Talk with? You owe him an apology Danny.” Sam said, I shrugged.

[ginxyy]

Jealousy in harmony

A surprised visit to see Jeonghan turns into a heartfelt moment of jealousy, laughter and confessions

The clattering of distant voices and the faint echo of instruments filled the air, creating an electric atmosphere that thrummed with creativity and anticipation. Today, I had decided to pay an unexpected visit to Jeonghan during one of his studio sessions. I knew the members of Seventeen were hard at work, tirelessly perfecting their sound. Though my heart was twinge with a bit of nervousness, I couldn’t resist the urge to surprise him. After all, we had been dating for a few months, and each moment with him blossomed into another cherished memory.

I walked through the glass doors of the studio, the aroma of takeout wafting through the air. I had brought him his favorite - a delicious array of bulgogi, fragrant rice, and freshly made kimchi. He hadn't had a proper meal in hours, and I desperately wanted to nurture him. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by a flurry of activity; members of Seventeen were everywhere, a lively mix of laughter, music, and motion. I spotted Woozi huddled over a keyboard, his brow furrowed in focus. Our eyes met, and he flashed me a bright smile that was easy to return.

“Hey! You’re here to see Jeonghan?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Yeah, I brought him some food,” I said, waving the takeout bags in the air like a victory flag. “He’s been working too hard.”

“Good idea! He needs to fuel up,” Woozi replied. He took a break to chat, and we found ourselves lost in conversation about their recent projects. I appreciated his insights and the way he effortlessly combined humor with sincerity. Before I knew it, we were laughing about all the silly moments that happened during recordings.

Moments passed, and just as the laughter bubbled and filled the space, I heard the door swing open. Jeonghan walked in, his hair slightly tousled and his usual spark of charm emanating from him like sunshine. But his expression shifted the moment his gaze landed on me and then on Woozi, leaning closer than I’d ever seen him do with another member.

The playful smile I’d grown accustomed to morphed into an uncharacteristic pout. Jeonghan crossed his arms, looking as though he was preparing to unleash a storm. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, mixing mischief with a spark of jealousy. I chuckled to myself; it was hard not to see him like that, so adorably possessive.

“Hey! I brought you something to eat,” I called out, hoping to diffuse the tension between the two of us.

“Did you?” His tone was deceptively light, an edge of protectiveness punctuating the words as he approached, his eyes narrowing at Woozi. I could sense a shift in the atmosphere; it was like watching storm clouds roll in during a serene afternoon.

“Yes, don’t you want it?” I teased, pretending to dangle the food away from him.

And just like that, it slipped into a playful banter. He moved closer, eyes scanning my face, searching for signs of where I stood amidst this surprising moment. “Why were you laughing with him?” he asked, feigning a pout.

“Oh come on, Jeonghan!” I laughed softly, trying to keep my tone light. “It was just fun. We were talking about your new track and how you always mess up the high notes.”

A sulky silence fell between us. Jeonghan made a show of rolling his eyes, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitch up, fighting against the seriousness of his demeanor. Woozi looked on, seemingly amused by the unfolding spectacle but gauging the moment as diplomatically as he could.

Finally, I stepped closer to Jeonghan, my heart fluttering at how protective he seemed. There was something charming about it, despite the brooding atmosphere. “You know I’m only here for you, right?” I said, looking directly into his eyes.

And then, it happened. It felt like the world trembled at that moment, a bubble swelled between us cloaked in quiet intimacy. I leaned in, capturing his lips with a hesitant yet passionate kiss. It was soft and pure, igniting a warmth that spread through my entire being. I pulled away, searching his gaze for any signs of doubt or fear.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words spilling out with a sincerity that made my heart race. I felt the weight of that confession linger in the air, a delightful tension vibrating between us. We hadn’t said it before, and expressing it felt like releasing a world of bottled emotions.

For the briefest moment, time stilled. Then, Jeonghan’s face broke into an expression of sheer delight. “I love you too!” he exclaimed, and in an instant, all shades of jealousy melted away, replaced by warmth and joy.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me back into him, as if he were afraid to let go. He showered my cheeks with kisses, each one a gentle reminder of the pulled tension easing into affection. I laughed, feeling giddy and utterly cherished.

“I’m sorry for being jealous,” he mumbled between kisses, his voice low and sincere. “It's just that you’re...you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours,” I confirmed, feeling an undeniable connection that bound us even more tightly. As he pressed his forehead against mine, I could sense future moments stretching before us like delicately woven threads, each one brimming with laughter, food, and countless kisses shared freely.

In that studio filled with music, creativity, and a whirlwind of emotions, we carved out our small world that pulsed and throbbed with love. Jeonghan smiled, the kind that lit up his entire face, his laughter echoing sweetly in my ears. It was our moment, our love, and I was forever ensnared in the enchantment of it all.