#or as heavy as it can get in a 6k fic

[yayakoishii]

Before I send my request your way lemme tell you how much I loved reading your recent Sanji Fics!! I enjoyed them a lot!!

And as for a request, I don't have anything specific but a vague scenario in my head. The strawhats dock at a lone mysterious island. And they as usual disperse off to do their own things when Sanji happens to stumble upon the reader. Perhaps caught in some trouble, going around with a hidden identity? I'm sorry this is cringe. But it's been in my head for a while now. Whether this ends up interesting you or not, I just wanted you to know, it's been a lot of fun reading you! Have a good day! Or night :D

Unfortunate Encounters | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 5,997 (that's practically 6k)

Genre: Light Fluff, more Angst, happy ending ofc!

Warnings: Plot heavy, light swearing. Slightly ooc crew maybe? I'm still new to writing for OP, please excuse any mistakes!

A/n: First off, thank you so much for the sweet words anon ;-; they really made my day <3 As for the request, this was not cringe at all!! I got super into it and I had like 3-4 mental drafts of how this fic could go (the og ending was even more angsty lol, but I decided to cut back...) I may have focused too much on the 'lone, mysterious island' part because this was more plot heavy than romantic. The inner plot writer in me emerged because of your prompt; I'm not a romance writer so I struggle with that in this fic >< However, I did enjoy writing it so I hope you enjoy this one too! Thanks for sending such a fun request ❤️

also available on ao3!

The log pose had brought them to another island, but even before they had touched down, Sanji could feel something was up with it. The island just gave off some vibes he couldn't place and he wasn't one to chalk it off to a mistake. His intuition told him something was going to happen here.

"There doesn't seem to be a town here," Nami frowned, looking at the island. All they could see for miles and miles was a dense tropical forest, with trees that seemed larger than their usual size. When they got off the Thousand Sunny, Sanji realised that it was too silent. There were no sounds of birds or any animals that he could hear from the shoreline. "Be careful, guys."

They decided to separate and cover the island quicker. The log pose needed time to reset and it was a curious little island anyway. They could cover it within a day, maximum. Something in Sanji's gut twisted in protest but until he could explain it, there was no way he could stop the chaotic crew. So he let it be and started hacking a path to somewhere.

The trees were dense and the forest was dark, lit up on random intervals by sudden sunbeams that looked like nature's spotlights. Sanji hummed to himself as he studied the plants around him. He walked for a while, noting all the things he could use but not picking anything because the island just rubbed him off the wrong way. It felt dangerous to pick any part of it.

Sanji walked for a while, pausing only when he felt he had heard something – something that sounded like a rustle of leaves, but he couldn't sense a person. He couldn't sense anything but the wind, a gentle breeze drifting through the trees. Strangely, he had not yet come across any of the other Straw Hats either, even though he had been walking for well over an hour and the island wasn't that big in the first place.

There was another rustling, but this time, Sanji could feel a presence. Multiple ones, to be precise. He tensed and cautiously moved aside the curtain of vines blocking his views. The clearing revealed in front of him shocked him– it was like all the animals of the entire island had gathered in one place. And they were all looking at something that he couldn't see.

The moment he stepped in, the animals all turned to him, some of them baring teeth or growling and it was so much sound after so much silence that even Sanji couldn't help the shiver running along his back. A human shout of, "It's okay guys! I'm okay now!" distracted the animals and they turned back to whatever– or rather, whoever, they had been looking at.

Sanji held back, not quite sure what to make of the whole situation, until he heard a barely audible, "Disperse."

Almost like a flip was switched, the animals scattered and Sanji was left incredulously staring at the vines in the middle of the clearing, from where a figure gracefully jumped down. You straightened up and patted at your hair to check for any stray leaves or twigs before you walked over to him.

"An intruder?" You asked, smiling amusedly. "Been a while since we had one."

"That's a harsh word, beautiful," Sanji couldn't hold himself back from calling you that way, after he had gotten over his shock enough to note your features.

"Would you prefer 'uninvited guest'?" You cocked an eyebrow, not cutting eye contact as you straightened out your clothes.

"Ah, you hurt my poor heart," he said, a little bit dramatically as he leaned closer but still at a respectable distance. "Am I unwelcome in your home, goddess of these woods?"

"Wh-?" You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips at his words. "You're quite something, alright. And as fun as you are, you really are unwelcome here, sorry."

"Why?" Sanji asked curiously. The entire experience felt like some weird fever dream to him, and he couldn't quite make head or tails of anything that was happening but the one thing he was sure of was that there was something about you that piqued his curiosity in all the ways.

"You can't stay on this island," you shrugged and walked past him, expecting him to follow you. Sanji did not fail, falling in step behind you as you started walking somewhere. "2 days, that's all you get. Any longer and… well, it's better if you don't find out."

"Alright, then I guess I'll let my crew know," Sanji sighed, figuring he wasn't getting any more out of you after seeing your guarded expression. The moment he finished his sentence though, you froze in your step and turned around to face him in horror.

"Did you just say… crew?" Your voice sounded a little hoarse and Sanji paused, looking at you in concern. "Please tell me your crew is not on the island."

"If I said that, it would be a lie, sweetheart," Sanji's brows furrowed even as he said it. Something was wrong. Your expression melted into one of full-blown panic, anger and horror.

"Not again!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"What's wrong?" Sanji would really, really like some answers today. The entire day had been confusing and eerie vibes and the growing chill in his stomach was now an unnecessary addition.

"What's wrong," you snapped, looking wild and terrified for a second, "is that your entire crew is fucking loose on a cursed island! If they do not get off this island in 3 nights, they will turn into animals and never, ever turn back to humans."

Sanji just stared at you for a few seconds before he dropped the unlit cigarette he had pulled out of his pocket. You were pacing around in circles and he had so many questions that he didn't even know where to begin.

"Then I'll just tell them when we all meet back?" He said unsurely except you turned to face him with eyes full of unshed tears.

"That's a great plan," you said a little sarcastically, "except for the part where this island is cursed and anyone who isn't an animal can't find their way out. Ever. They literally cannot find the way back on their own."

Sanji's jaw dropped. He stared back at you in equal parts horror.

"This has to be the Moss Head's curse spreading," he whispered to himself.

Half an hour later, the two of you were making your way through the dense foliage, exchanging questions and answers– although Sanji was the one doing the asking the most.

You had calmed down after finding out that the crew only had 9 members. You could probably find 8 people in less than 3 days. The island wasn't that big.

Sanji's first question was about how you weren't affected by the curse.

"Because I'm not fully human," you had replied off-handedly and not offered more. It only added to your mystery but despite all your secrets, Sanji could somehow feel inside him that you weren't a bad person. You were going out of your way to help out so that their crew won't turn into animals– if the curse didn't affect you, then you could have very well done nothing.

Then he asked about the other things on his mind. Were the animals in the forest also humans? To his horror, you had replied with a sad yes.

"The log pose doesn't take pirates to this island much," you had explained as you expertly and gracefully made your way over the thorny plants and overgrown roots. Your movement was almost like a mystical dance and Sanji couldn't take his eyes off of it, thankful that you were walking in front of him and couldn't see his ogling. "It's rare but it happens sometimes. Mostly single man boats tossed through storms end up here, but there's been two small crews who came here after me. There were already some animals on the island before though, and I'm pretty sure they were once humans too."

"And there's no cure for this?" Sanji swallowed, his heart hammering from a weird mix of fear, nervousness and excitement.

"Nothing as far as I know," you confirmed, pausing to close your eyes and feel something. "That direction, I can sense someone."

You ran over without waiting for Sanji and he was left to catch up by taking long strides. Before he could show himself though, he felt the presence close in on you and automatically moved in to defend you. His boots rammed against the blunt hilt of a familiar katana.

"Love cook?" Zoro's eyes widened in surprise and he immediately tucked his swords back in. Sanji ignored him in favour of ensuring that you were okay. He found you staring behind him curiously at Zoro, as if the swordsman fascinated you. It didn't mean anything, but it left him feeling a little irritated at Zoro. "Who's this?"

"Um." Sanji realised he had never asked you for your name. Or given you his.

"Inconsequential," you waved it off. "It's not like we're to know each other longer than a day or two. Let's just go and search for the rest. Blondie here can explain everything to you on the way."

"Sanji," he blurted out, reeling back when he saw your surprised face. "Forgive my insolence, sweetheart. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Vimsoke Sanji."

"Well, Sanji," you smiled at him, already walking like you knew where you were going, "get your friend to join us and follow me."

Gladly, his heart answered for him.

✿

You knew this was a mistake. It never ended well when you met other people and liked them. And as you collected more of the Straw Hats, you couldn't help but like them all more and more. You knew this was a mistake, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret it because you knew that if you didn't help them, they would be cursed too.

You had eventually acquiesced and given them your first name, careful not to offer your last name in case any of them recognised you. Zoro seemed to be staring at you quite frequently, but maybe it was just a Straw Hat thing? Sanji had been staring at you the whole time too. Or maybe you looked hideous and they were all politely staying quiet. You didn't quite know, but the thought of looking terrible in front of them (in front of that beautiful blonde boy) was a little mortifying to you.

All those thoughts took a backseat though, because you were on a mission. By the time evening rolled around and the sky had turned to pitch black darkness, you had found a cyborg and a rubber man called Luffy, who was the captain of the ship. He didn't really feel like a captain, or somebody who commanded everyone, but the Straw Hats didn't seem like a typical group of people. They were… unique.

"Let's stop for tonight," you said after assessing the darkness. Of course, you could see everything clearly even in the darkness, but they didn't need to know that. The less they knew about you…

"Shouldn't we keep going?" Zoro asked, looking around.

"Trust me, we're better off waiting the night out," you answered, already settling into the clearing for the night. You had to get a fire going and find food and there were things to be done.

"So I can't eat the animals?" Luffy pouted for the fifth time, asking the same question.

"No, Luffy," you sighed, waving a stick at him. "They might look like animals, but they are people. Please don't kill them or try to eat them."

"They won't attack our crewmates, would they?" Sanji asked, looking worried. You finally managed to light a fire and carefully structured a ring of stones around it to ensure it won't get out before answering.

"The curse lets them have their brain for most of the time," you fidgeted on the spot. "But sometimes, if you harm them, or if they get really hungry, or, y'know… their animal instincts kick in and then they are more animal than human. But it's rare, and won't happen if you don't harm their survival."

The crew fell silent and you watched them whisper amongst themselves a bit. They probably wanted to talk things out, so you got up and said you would go grab something to eat.

"Please don't leave this clearing," you warned them as you walked away. "Finding you again would be so much trouble."

You heard footsteps following you though and turned around to find Sanji trailing behind you.

"Sanji?" You asked, confused. His tall, lanky figure in the forefront of the golden orange light spilling from the fire you started was a picturesque scenery that left your heart thumping a little louder than usual.

"Would you be okay with some company?" He asked quietly. "I'm a chef, so I could probably help you gather some food."

"Alright," you nodded. The two of you walked a while in silence until you found the spot where there were a bunch of large fruits and flowers that you started gathering. Sanji observed what you collected in the little moonlight that was shining through the trees, but you could see him struggling.

"You can see in the dark?" He asked after a beat of silence.

"Mm," you were exhausted from the day. Lying and avoiding things was tiring as it is, and you really weren't in the mood to play the game. If Sanji knew who you were… would it really be that bad? He had been kind so far, always at a respectable distance but with honeyed sweet words that tugged at your heartstrings. You had never had anyone flirt with you, but Sanji was the first. And it left you feeling giddy and warm, the attention he gave you without losing any of the respect and your need for secrecy. If he knew… would he hate you?

Sanji didn't say anything for a while, just offered up his arms for you to stack all the food you had collected.

"Who else is remaining?" You asked, finding the silence was eating at your insides. You had spent so long in silence. And now that you had people around again, you wanted to make the most of it before they had to leave. Just for a while, you could forget and pretend that you're one of them. Just for a while.

"Nami-san, Robin-san," Sanji said, "Brook and Chopper. Wait, Chopper!"

Sanji clapped his hands like he had just thought of something. You looked at him curiously.

"Chopper is a reindeer," Sanji said hurriedly.

"You have a reindeer in your crew…?" You were confused. The Straw Hats were definitely one of a kind, alright.

"He ate the Hito Hito no Mi so he can talk and walk," Sanji explained. "He's our doctor but that's not important right now. He's an animal, right? So he wouldn't be affected by the curse?"

"Highly likely that he isn't," you confirmed.

"Which means he must be the only one back on the ship," Sanji murmured to himself. That's one person (animal?) less to search for, you mused. "He must be scared."

"I hope he's okay," you said quietly. The animals on the island knew each other well. If Chopper ran into them… You didn't really know what would happen. Animals could be scary when they were territorial.

The two of you finished collecting as much as you could carry and walked back, and you asked Sanji to tell you about their adventures. He indulged you, colouring a vivid and humorous picture of the crew in the short while it took you two to get back.

You came back to find Zoro sleeping on his side while Luffy was springing around in the clearing, howling about being hungry and crying for Sanji. Franky sat against a tree, fiddling with something on his body that you didn't wait to see despite your curiosity.

As Sanji started portioning the food to serve to everyone, you stood back and watched the crew interact quietly. It was strange, how at home you felt with them despite not knowing them– but you attributed it to your loneliness.

Even if you wanted to be one of them, you could never curse them like that.

The next morning, you found Nami at the top of a tree. You had seen her when gathering some flowers for breakfast, asleep. You decided to get Sanji to recognise her before you woke her up and got her down. Seeing Sanji fawn and fret over her made you insanely jealous; but you forced it down under a smile and led them back to the camp that had already been cleared up.

You gave the crew a few minutes to catch up and celebrate before you started the search again.

"So…" you searched for a topic as the six of you trudged through the forest. "A reindeer, a cyborg, a gum man, an ex-pirate hunter… Who should I expect next?"

"A skeleton!" Luffy excitedly yelled as he swung past you on the vines, nearly making you stumble from the shock.

"A… what?!" You turned to stare at Sanji in shock, who just smiled softly and shrugged.

"Brook is…" he explained the whole story without getting tired and you couldn't help but be fascinated by everything. The more you learned about them, the more they intrigued you, the more you wanted to beg them to let you join them. But you didn't let those thoughts come to life in words, just helping them find the said skeleton from where he was surrounded by some of the island's animals growling at him.

"Down, guys," you shouted and the animals immediately backed off, all staring at you with innocent eyes that made you huff in laughter. "Don't pull that on me, I just saw you. I know you mean well but it's a little scary when you're surrounded by animals."

One of the deer whined and bumped its snout into your hand. You could feel the Straw Hats staring as you petted it and whispered it to leave the skeleton to you. When the animals had dispersed, you shot a grin at Brook.

"Hi there!" You held out a hand, "It's my first time meeting a skeleton!"

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, you started covering the northern part of the island. It was the only place remaining, aside from the centre. You found Usopp and Chopper there, the two of them hugging each other and bawling.

As it turned out, Chopper had in fact gone back after finding nothing on the island only to find out that no one else had returned. So he had stayed the night in the ship and then came back in search of the others even though he was scared.

"That was very brave of you," you patted him on the head. The reindeer blushed and glared at you.

"I'm not pleased by that at all!!" So he said, but you could see the smile on his face. With almost all of them collected, you started your way to the centre of the island when you heard the clouds rumble.

The sky was full of grey clouds and you were ready for rain, since this was the season on the island.

"There's an underground cave near here," you told the crew as you led them through the thick canopy of trees. "I usually go there when it rains so let's wait it out before we search for… Robin, was it?"

Zoro grumbled something about constant waiting but you chose to ignore it. You knew this island better than any of them. Rains were harsh and the droplets were like bullets on the skin. You couldn't find Robin on the way to the cave but when you reached its opening which looked like a hole in the ground, surrounded by overgrown grass, you felt a presence inside.

The last Straw Hat member was inside the cave, much to all of your relief. This time, you truly stepped back and let the crew reunite, feeling like a true outcast for the first time. Your time together with them was over. Once the rain was gone, they would be out of here and you would be alone again.

Except Sanji turned to you and offered you his hand to invite you into their awkward group hug that Usopp had initiated. You didn't want to intrude but they all looked at you with similar grins and smiles and you couldn't hold it back. You joined them, savouring your first hug in years.

✿

As it turned out, the runes you had found on one of the walls of the cave actually had some sort of meaning that Robin had been able to decipher in the while she had spent in the cave. She had apparently found the cave the previous night and stayed in, then worked on the runes in the morning when she found them.

"It's about a curse on this island," she explained. "Like (y/n) already told us, if anyone spends 3 nights on this island, it turns them into an animal forever. There's a piece of it missing at the end, but the last line says 'the answer lies in the satisfaction of life and a prayer answered'."

"What does that mean?" you asked, confused.

"I'm not really sure," she admitted, running her fingers over the runes. The whole crew mulled over the words as you waited for the rain to stop. You didn't join into the conversation, just letting your mind work quietly with their suggestions as background.

Satisfaction in life… A prayer answered… None of it seemed to make sense. The Straw Hats didn't need to help the animals out, but they were still trying to figure it out. The crew was clearly good at heart and you were glad that you helped them out, even though you would only be left with hurt after they were gone. That pain was worth it.

A squirrel scampered up to you while you listened; the rain outside seemed to be slowing down. You knew the squirrel was the girl around your age who had ended up on the island after a shipwreck. You scooped her up and let her sit on your hand, where she tried to shake off the water from her soaking body. The water sprinkled onto you and you let out a fake indignant "hey!" that made her laugh. Not that you had ever seen squirrels laugh, but you could always understand the animals on the island.

"We found something here," you said quietly to her, bringing her close to wipe off some of the water from her body. "It could be an answer to turning you all back to humans."

She tilted her head and stared at you.

"But none of us understand the riddle," you continued, feeling apologetic to them. You had been the only person on the island who was unaffected by the curse, so you felt like it was somehow your responsibility to help them all turn back. And yet, you had failed at that over and over again. Saira, as the girl's name had been, simply shook her squirrel head and placed a tiny paw on your chest where you had tucked her close.

"It's alright," you could hear her saying in your head. To the others, it probably sounded like a bunch of squeaks. "It's not that bad. I long gave up hope of turning back. Being a squirrel is not that bad. Being able to spend everyday with you who looks out for all of us… I'm happy. All of us are."

Your chest swelled with the emotions and for the first time in a long while, tears streamed down your cheeks. You had held it all in for so long, not wanting to burden the helpless creatures that always kept you company. But knowing their faith in and love for you made your insides warm.

"All we want is for you to be happy too," Saira continued, turning her head to look at the crew. You glanced at them, noticing that Sanji was looking over at you two. "I know you. Go with them."

"I can't," you said in a choked whisper. "Even if they let me, I can't do that to them. I'm not… I'm a curse, Saira. I can't risk it."

The squirrel looked at you helplessly as you cried a little more. Eventually, you wiped away the tears and let your eyes shut to listen to the pitter patter of rain outside. Saira scrambled off your body and over to Sanji, who had watched you the whole while but hadn't heard what you had said.

When you opened your eyes, the rain had stopped. You looked around blearily, and found the Straw Hats all lying around, looking upset.

"You guys should have woken me up when the rain stopped," you said, rubbing your face as you stood up. "Come on, you must be missing your ship, yeah?"

"(Y/n)," Sanji started, looking a little nervous. You looked at him quizzically, but Zoro spoke up before he could say what he wanted.

"Or should we say Kuroneko no (Y/n)?" The familiar words made you freeze in horror. "Harbinger of Death? A 30 million bellies bounty."

"That's…" You took an involuntary step back, bumping into the cave wall. They knew. They knew the secret you had tried so hard to hide. They knew… and they were still looking at you with badly hidden curiosity and grins. None of them looked scared, or upset anymore, like they had been when you were asleep. "I'm… I don't want to lie. That's me. But I swear, I'm not going to do anything. I mean, I don't even actually do anything, all of those incidents just happened–"

"(Y/n)," Sanji placed a hand atop your head, effectively stopping your rambling. You looked up at him, afraid to see him look at you differently, but if anything, his eyes had only become softer. "It's okay. I wish you had told us before, but we get it."

"You do…?" Somehow, it felt too good to be true. People were usually upset when others lied and kept secrets. The secret of who you were could essentially have been a matter of life or death. Kuroneko no (y/n), or rather, Black Cat (y/n) was a name based on your Devil Fruit powers that let you turn into a cat. But they were also a result of you being the only survivor in 4 separate incidents– the annihilation of your home island, the mass genocide in a war town country and the two small crews you had once been a part of. Every single time, all the people had died and you were the only one alive left behind. You had never belonged anywhere, so how could you believe now would be any different?

"It must have been very lonely," Robin's sorrowful eyes reflected that she understood you on some level. You didn't know what to think or feel, unwilling to let yourself hope for anything beyond acceptance.

"It was," you admitted, more to yourself than to them. You had never let yourself truly dwell on the thought, but you had been so, so lonely. "I won't stick around for long. I'll take you to your ship and you'll be free of this island's curse, and of my own. So if–"

"Your curse?" Sanji looked at you, confused.

"It's not exactly a curse," you hesitated, "but there's nothing else I can call it for why… the people I care for end up dead."

"That's not true," Luffy frowned, walking over to you. "Everyone here is still alive. Everyone on this island is alive, we are alive. You are not cursed."

"You were like a blessing in disguise," Usopp said from where he stood, not looking you in the eyes. "I was of course not afraid at all, considering my heavy list of achievements, but you brought us all back together."

"I'm…" you didn't know what to say, feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not cursed, sweetheart," Sanji gently held up your hand, squeezing it to comfort you. "You just had a string of… unfortunate events."

Sanji's struggle to find the right term made you let out a small giggle. Maybe you should extend a hand. Maybe this time…

"Maybe I'm not cursed?" You said hopefully, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Sanji nodded, carefully tucking back a lock of hair behind your ear. The action made you flush, suddenly realising the proximity you two were in.

A flash of light startled all of you and you turned around to find Saira, the human, standing in the place of where the squirrel was. The girl was staring at her own hands and body, like this was a dream. You blinked, unable to believe your eyes either.

Outside the cave, you could hear shouts. Human shouts.

"What just-?" You ran out to find the people who had been turned into animals were back to human. "How…"

"Satisfaction of life and a prayer answered," Robin's voice from behind you was startling. You turned to look at her, and she smiled down at you. "Perhaps the answer was just for the animals to be happy with who they are, with no regrets."

"Then… Then why didn't it change them back before?" You said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps their prayer wasn't answered back then," she placed a hand on your shoulder and patted it. Did she mean that it only happened now because your one wish through life had been answered? To be free of the curse you had…

With much enthusiasm, the crew got out of the underground cave and everyone was celebrating. The sight of everyone back made you feel like this was the happiest day of your life. You participated in it, letting yourself enjoy the moment without worrying or thinking of anything.

The sun was already setting when the party started and it went on for hours as everyone laughed and danced and ate. (If you were fascinated by how much Luffy could eat, you kept it to yourself to be polite.) It was probably getting close to midnight when Sanji sought you out to where you were sitting by yourself and just watching everyone with fond eyes.

He didn't say a word at first, just sat down next to you. At that distance, you could feel the warmth of his body and you subconsciously leaned closer to the source. For the first time in a long while, your heart felt at peace.

"How did you end up on this island?" Sanji's question made you look over at him. He wasn't demanding an answer, just looking down at you with deep blue eyes that seemed to flash golden as they reflected the bonfire.

"I was on the run from the Marines around a year ago," you hummed, feeling safe and comfortable enough in his presence to finally talk about yourself. After years of not being able to share anything with anyone, it felt freeing to tell him something even as simple as this. "I had just escaped the battle between the crew I was in and this one big pirate ship that I don't even remember anymore. I was wounded but I reached this island on a small boat somehow with a half broken log pose. I shifted into my cat form, which looks less like a cat and more like a black jaguar if anything, to ensure that no one recognised me– because my full transformation is not known by the Marines. I stayed in that form for quite a while, too scared and shaken at that time to turn back into human. Only after a few days of exploring the island did I realise there are no humans here.

"I thought… if there was any place I could not affect anyone with my curse, it would be here. Away from any humans who would get affected by it. At that time, I didn't know about the curse. Looking back on it, I suspect that maybe the curse never affected me because I was in my animal form for 3 nights. Or maybe it was just because that form is like my second skin. I was never disappointed or dissatisfied with it. I only found out about the curse after Saira came on the island and turned into a squirrel. And then two other pirate crews."

"That must have been hard for you," Sanji's voice was quiet but there was no way you could miss the low timbre of it over the excitement all around you. Not when it was the same voice that set your heart off; you wanted to hear everything he had to say. Wanted to know him more and more, as much as he would let you. "(Y/n)-chan."

"Mm?" You turned to look at him, breathless at the proximity from where you could no longer smell the perfume he smelled of the first time you met. The smell coming off him now was something purely him. It was a little intoxicating when coupled with the warm atmosphere and the gooey feeling in your stomach.

"Would you… like to join us?" Sanji seemed a little nervous asking you that. The question gobsmacked you and you stared at him. He… wanted you to join them? As a part of the crew? "I asked Luffy and he said that if you want it, then he's all for it."

"Sanji…" you bit your lower lip, unsure once again. Even though you felt free of the curse, the mentality couldn't be erased in a day. The what ifs, the fear, the apprehension was all still there. "What if we're wrong, though? What if I really am cursed and this has just been a really long build-up to something worse? I might be a risk to your–"

"You're not," Sanji interrupted you for the first time since you had met. The quiet but firm determination blazing in his eyes surprised you. "I believe in you. (Y/n)-chan, if you would let me, I would gladly prove it to you by staying by your side for the rest of your life. I'll stay alive and well, and show you that it's not your fault. I'll be by your side to the very end, so place your fears in my hands and… trust me on this, even if you don't trust anything else."

That little crush you had developed on him at the start seemed to blow up in that moment into a gigantic furnace of emotions. He was ready to take the risk of death, and saying every word with such sincerity that any inhibitions you had went out the window. You couldn't stop yourself from wanting him any longer– he was like the sun, taking your world by storm.

"Really?" You didn't realise when the tears started streaming down your face until his gentle hands came up to wipe them. "You'll stay?"

"I will," and that genuine sincerity was something you couldn't help but believe in. "I will be there for you, as long as you need me."

"Sanji." His name felt both urgent and at ease from your lips.

"(Y/n)-chan," he whispered, voice open and vulnerable again. "Do you… want to be a part of the Straw Hats?"

You swallowed and wondered if you really deserved this much happiness after everything. Yet the moment you looked into his eyes, you felt like there was nothing you could do but be a moth chasing the sun– running after something that you knew will only end up in flames.

"I do."

°•❀•°

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagines #one piece sanji #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji fanfic #sanji #black leg sanji #angst with a happy ending #light fluff #plot heavy #or as heavy as it can get in a 6k fic

[melodygatesauthor]

The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

The duke needs an heir, or Caladan will fall under the rule of his enemies. There's one woman is capable of saving the planet...she's the only one.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: This fic does not comply with canon, throw everything you thought you knew about the Dune lore out the window. The duke is (in my opinion) in character for this situation, despite the obsessive tendencies. There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks. NSFW, non-con, rape, kidnapping, sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, lactation kink, pregnancy, blood kink, cockwarming, forced pregnancy, non-consensual bondage, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, body worship, pregnant sex, oral sex (f receiving), Dark fic, Dark Duke Leto Atreides. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

After many years of trying for an heir, Duke Leto has begun to give up hope. Without an heir, the emperor threatens to give away his birthright, strip him of his title, and hand Caladan to his enemies. He has been given only one final year to produce a son who will carry on his family name. While searching for someone who could give him what he needs, he happens upon a mysterious woman. The strange woman tells of a prophecy, one that Leto takes very seriously, because he has no other choice. "In a village, not far from here, my lord, there's a girl. She is not of noble birth, but I have seen her future, and she will give you many sons." Duke Leto, a kind and gentle man, would never hurt someone so innocent on purpose, but when faced with the choice of taking you, or losing Caladan to those who meant to oppress it, he must set aside his morality for the greater good...

The duke entered his chambers where you were suspended from the lofty ceiling, as he’d requested his men to do once they found you. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you, so beautiful, so scared. Leto stepped forward, nearly jumping when your head shot up and your tear-stained eyes locked on with his. He held one hand behind his back in a regal manner, holding the other out to touch your cheek as he closed in on you slowly.

“W-wh…” you cleared your throat, “where…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of your beautiful face, “you’re safe now. There’s no need to panic.”

Despite his words, it was clear you were terrified, struggling to breath in a normal, even heave. No matter the fear you displayed in your eyes, the duke’s expression remained calm, and filled with adoration.

“I know you’re frightened. It is…expected,” he said softly, standing up straight and casually walking to his wardrobe. “Would you care for some wine perhaps? Or I can call for the doctor, he could provide you with a mild sedative?”

He turned to look at you, your head was hung downward once again, naked body trembling and rattling the chains that held you in place. He wasn’t a cruel man, though he suspected you thought he was. He’d never done something like this before, sending his guards out to retrieve a young woman to keep in his chambers indefinitely. A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

“No need to cry my dear, you’re not in any danger,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal piercing through the room. “In fact, you’re going to be very well taken care of here. Do you have any idea just how lucky you are?”

You cried harder, sobs becoming even louder as you looked up at him again. He removed his shirt, revealing his warm, sunkissed skin. It was hard to tell, but he appeared handsome through the blur of your tears. You dropped your head again, your neck aching from the position you were in. Your arms were pinned behind your back, body bent forward at the hips, leaving your rear exposed and open. Your thighs ached, legs spread wide, forced open by a metal pole secured between your knees. The ache in your chest from your labored breathing was horrid enough, only made worse by the chains wrapped around you, keeping your torso held upward and parallel to the stone floor.

“You don’t even realize that you are the most important piece to maintaining our way of life of Caladan,” he continued, removing his pants completely and letting them fall to the ground. “I have been unable to find anyone compatible. Perhaps it’s that my genetics are too much for the average woman to carry to term.” He stepped closer to you, cock bobbing heavily with every stride. “But you’re not average, are you my dear?”

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

“No no, not another word. You’re frightened now, yes, but you’ll soon realize the important work that you were made for,” he walked past you, running his hand along your arm and to your hip as he did. “The important job you’ll be doing for me…”

You whimpered, struggling slightly against your restraints but to no avail. The duke used to pride himself on being an honorable man, and even in this morally reprehensible moment, he felt justified in his actions. He didn’t always like what his duty called him to do, but knowing it was for the greater good, he would do almost anything.

“You see my dear,” he cooed, “you were found for me, a beautiful, fertile woman who is prophesied to give me many children…” he leaned into your ear, “many.” His tone turned to a low rumble. “So even though this may seem sudden, you will realize with time that you’re fulfilling your purpose…your destiny.”

His right palm splayed over the globe of your cheek, moving toward where your body was spread in two. He didn’t like hearing you cry, but he knew it was inevitable. No normal girl would consent to being abducted and restrained in a man’s bedroom, not even the duke’s bedroom. He saw your puckered hole, and he pressed his index finger to it gently, inciting a gasp from you, followed by the rattling of the chains. You cried out, begging him to release you, but your wails fell on deaf ears.

“I know you care about Caladan, our people. I know you care about the Atreides legacy, and you know…” he spit between your crack, letting his warm saliva trickle from your rim down between your folds, “you know I need a strong, healthy heir.”

Leto positioned himself behind you, using his hand to fist the fat tip of his cock at your glistening entrance. The metal pole keeping your legs spread for him creaked with tension as you struggled to close your thighs, a pointless endeavor. He sighed heavily, gliding his head between each crevice of your pretty little cunt, making himself slick with your arousal.

“You must think me to be a cruel man, but you’re mistaken darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and if you’ll relax this will be much less painful for you.” His breath was ragged with an almost animalistic desire. “You must understand, however, that I care far too much about the future of my people not to provide them with an Atreides heir.”

No matter how hard you tried to escape the flesh splitting thrust of his wide girth, your attempts were futile. A pained scream echoed off the walls of his chambers, followed shortly by the warmth of your blood against his thighs as he slapped them against yours loudly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wanted to get your first time over with, and not drag it out any longer than necessary. He slowed down after a moment, once your screaming turned to soft whimpers.

“You’re doing so well…” he huffed through his nostrils harshly “…I know this isn’t easy for you,” Leto leaned forward, grabbing one of your hanging breasts in his large hand, pinching the nipple gently, “b-but your body was built for this…it was built for me…”

“No, n-no…” you trailed off, feeling your head fall back down, neck aching still from the strain. A small moan left your lips, despite your attempts to keep it in.

“O-oh sweetheart is…is it starting to feel good?” The roll of his hips remained at a steady pace. “That’s wonderful, it will help with the pain, and your time will be more enjoyable for you if you can gain some pleasure from this as well, I don’t want you to feel misery if I can help it.”

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, continuing to palm at your breast.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your spine. He could feel your tied-back hands fidgeting against his ribcage. His free hand moved to your left hip, holding it tightly to angle himself deeper.

“I’m going to fill you with every bit of me , every-single-drop,” he punctuated each word with a harder thrust. “I need to make sure you get it all, need to make sure it takes…mmph!”

Surely your noisy whimpers could be heard in the halls, yet no one came to help you. They all knew what was happening in there. You were to be the mother of the next Atreides heir. You would be made to bear child after child for the legacy obsessed duke. A breeding vessel for a desperate nobleman, torn between his kind nature and his need for the security and wellbeing of his people.

“The emperor will take everything I have if I can't secure my bloodline. He’ll give it t-to the…” he whimpered and gulped deeply, “Harkonnens, and I can’t let that happen to my people.”

You could hear nothing over your whimpers save for the wet slapping of his skin against yours as his pace quickened. You didn’t know what he was going on about - destiny, legacy, an Atreides heir? - He snapped forward again, a gravelly rumble falling from his chest. He moved to an upright position, letting your breast hang loosely once more. You wailed loudly, the feeling of his thick fingers leaving their impressions in the flesh of your hip.

“M-my lord, my lord…it hurts so…s-so-much-s-sir!”

“I know, but you’re taking me so well anyway aren’t you?” He looked down where your puffy little hole swallowed his crimson painted cock. “Look at that.”

His index finger touched where you were stretched around him, that little bit of skin that held onto his cock like it never meant to let go. You whimpered, chains rattling around you as your body involuntarily moved, only serving to sink you down further on his length once more. He could hear you hyperventilating, a panic-stricken whine punching out of your chest that he felt a tad guilty for inciting.

Until he remembered what your purpose was…the reason he’d had you brought to his castle in the first place.

He reached an arm around your leg, sinking the pad of his finger into the wet, bloody mess between the slippery lips of your cunt. In the sea of your arousal, he found the swollen bud that made your walls flutter around him. You gasped, and seemingly on their own, his hips slid forward, chasing that delicious feeling of your body finally accepting him, pulling him deeper inside.

“You like that don’t you?” He bit his lip, a breathy chuckle escaping through his teeth with the knowledge that he’d found a way to settle your terror, if only for a moment. “I promise, no matter how terrible this may be, that I won’t allow you to stay like this…and-s-suffer-oh-my…”

He felt your body squeezing tighter, walls contracting around his cock. He thrust forward again, shuddering at the way you were taking him, pulling him deeper, like your body was begging for his cum, like you needed him to feed your hole until you were stuffed and overflowing.

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

Your tone was different now, more sultry and full of desire. It was good to hear you like that, moaning instead of crying, grunting with pleasure instead of pain. This would be so much better for you once you gave in, he knew that much. He could give you everything: make your body shake with orgasm after orgasm, clothes made from the finest silks, and comforts that were reserved for only the lords and ladies of Caladan.

“Your pleas don’t go unnoticed sweetheart, don’t think me cruel, I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances were different,” he huffed, breathing becoming more ragged with every glide of his hips. “I need you…Caladan needs you–needs-you-full-ah!”

The smooth roll of his hips slowed as his seed spilled into you. You felt it, warm and slick as it coated your insides white. You felt a sensation you’d never felt, rolling over your entire body and pooling in your core, causing your legs to shake and your mind to go blank. It was euphoric; a reprieve from the pain you’d endured for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

Leto felt your pussy walls squeezing, crushing down over his girth in waves while you moaned. What a sweet sound, one that made him feel mental relief that he’d given you something in return for your suffering. His finger slowed around your hardened clit, letting you come down slowly from your high.

As your pleasured whines subsided, you thought he would remove himself from you, letting your hole relax after such an ordeal, but he didn’t. The duke stayed there, hips pressed flush against your rear, making no motion to release you from his hold. You moved slightly, but he gripped tightly on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“No, no darling, no.” His voice was calm but raspy, still settling after his climax. “I’m going to stay like this for a moment longer, just to make sure it takes. We wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He looked down, seeing the way your body had bled on his, coating his pubic hair in a deep red shade. He felt for you, truly he did, but once you realized what an honor it was to be in your position, he knew you’d find it was worth the sacrifice. Your breathing was slowing, going back to normal, and after several moments he pulled back, letting his limp cock fall from where it had torn you open. 

You groaned, feeling yourself become empty all at once. Your head hung down, neck finally too tired to hold it up any longer. You heard the duke tsk behind you, his palms pressing against your cheeks and spreading them further. The sound of dripping cum on the floor echoed through the room.

“Let’s keep it all inside, sweet one, I need you to give me a son,” he pushed his spend back inside you with his finger, what little was still there and had not fallen to the floor.

You winced and hissed, the metal holding you in place rattling once more. His thick middle-finger slid in deep, Leto shuddered as your hole clenched in response. He could hear you crying, a soft, defeated sound he wished one day would stop. But he couldn’t expect that from you, not now as he broke you in for the first time. He expected you would be like this for a while until you were used to him, used to his size, used to the way he kept you as full as possible, as often as possible.

“Your body handled me very, very well darling,” he said, idly fingering you as he spoke, continuing to push his spend back inside you. “Looks like I’ve made quite the mess of you, but don’t worry, I’ll have you cleaned up in a moment.”

He kept true to his word, once he was thoroughly satisied he’d kept his cum in you long enough, the duke turned onto his back, positioned himself between your thighs, and propped himself up on his elbows so his lips could reach your cunt with ease. A gasp shot from your lungs, the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your sore folds bringing comfort to the ache. You moaned, a sound that represented more than just sexual pleasure, but a sound that told him you were at least accepting your fate…for the moment.

He was right, there was no more fighting, and it was clear your words weren’t going to change his goal oriented mind. His desire to have an heir was stronger than his desire to act honorably. His tongue went flat, you felt it soothing the tear of your hymen, then dragging upward and flicking once it reached the peak of your folds. You exhaled a sigh, cunt throbbing in response to the way he lapped at you masterfully.

“You know not many,” he kissed your pussy lips, “can say,” another peck, “they’ve been lucky enough to carry such an important role for Caladan. Even I’m not as important as you are right now.”

His hand reached up and pressed against your stomach while his mouth continued to melt into your cunt, soothing you even more as he cleaned you. He never felt such pride as he did in that moment, knowing that this was a good effort, even if it didn’t take. The sheer amount that he ate from you, in combination with his already discarded seed on the floor underneath him, gave the duke a sense of relief to know that he was producing sufficiently on his end. It wouldn’t take long for you to give him a healthy child, if you were indeed the girl the old woman had told him about.

You whimpered still when his tongue would touch your wound, though it was always followed with the relief of him dragging it over your clit. He slurped quietly as he continued, not making an indication that he would be stopping any time soon, despite the likelihood of you being clean already. The hand on your stomach moved, reaching up and cupping your breast, holding it and squeezing softly.

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the heat pooling at the base of your abdomen once again. Was it even worth trying to deny the way it felt? He was the Duke of Caladan after all. If he wanted a hundred concubines tied up to his ceiling he could take them, and no one would stop him. You should be grateful it was he who took you, and not someone who might’ve been much more cruel in their claiming of your body.

He hummed into your folds, breathing heavily through his nose as he did. His hand slid over to your waist, gripping around you and holding tight. The vibration from his moans, and the brush of his peppery beard against your thighs was causing your body to near release once more. That would only be the second time in your life that you’d felt it, and you wanted it more than you could bear.

“Mm, let yourself go my dear, I only want you to feel good from now on, now that I broke you in a little.”

His mouth never left your cunt as he spoke, his words only serving to draw your next climax from your body faster. You felt it fall over you, warm and heavy, making your body melt once more, going limp save for the involuntary crashing of your walls around the emptiness the duke had left behind. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were fully satisfied, head hanging down again and breathing returned to normal. 

With a grunt he rose from beneath you. You heard him padding on his bare feet to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. If you turned your head just a little you could see him, much clearer now than before. He looked at you as he put a loose cotton shirt over his shoulders, then leaning down to pull his trousers over his legs.

“You’re simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a gentle baritone, moving back to kneel in front of you. “I do not kneel for many, but I’ll kneel for the mother of my children.”

You strained your neck to look at him once again. He cupped your cheeks to help you, seeing your struggle and feeling sorry for the part he played in your suffering. He kissed your forehead, feeling the salt from your sweaty brow upon his lips.

“I’ll return every day, at least until I’m sure you’re pregnant,” his lips curled into a compassionate smirk, “then I’ll let you rest while your belly grows.”

He stood, striding to the washroom and leaving you hanging there, like a prized animal on display. Before long, the same men who’d captured you returned, undoing most of your bonds, save for the ones holding your hands behind your back. They weren’t rough, just like before when they’d abducted you. You felt your entire body sigh, your bones and muscles feeling relieved to fall back into place. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d conceived. It must’ve happened at some point between that first time when he tore you apart, and the following month when your period didn’t arrive when it should’ve. By then you’d become, not unlike, a piece of furniture in Duke Leto’s chambers, restraints much less restrictive and painful than your first meeting. Only a week after he’d broken you, you’d become more willing for him, crying less when he came to take you. 

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, despite your situation, and since you’ve become so compliant, I think I can afford to make you more comfortable,” he’d explained.

And so he had you moved to the bed. Though you weren’t completely free. That was a risk the duke could not afford. So he had metal cuffs around your wrists, and chains that connected them to the stone wall behind the bed. You could move easier, but you could never leave.

When another week went by, two weeks after your torment began, he was swelling with pride, seeing you spreading your legs upon his entry into his chambers without prompt. You said you appreciated the silken evening dress he’d had the servants craft for you, the one that fell open on either side of your hips when you presented your cunt to him. He wasn’t supposed to love you - it wasn’t necessary for him to love you - but he felt himself overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t contain every time he saw you.

Three weeks after that first meeting, you kissed him. It was clear he’d been holding back, allowing you to maintain some level of autonomy, despite having taken your body for himself so many times. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force you to be intimate with him if that wasn’t what you wished.

So it was a shock when he was several moments into fucking you, cock sliding wetly along your walls in a desperation to fill you with him again, and you grabbed his face on either side. His hooded eyes shot up, meeting with yours but then quickly flicking down to see your precious lips closing in. You closed your eyes, and so did he, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment, including the pace that he thrust into you.

The slow roll of his hips was heavenly, and was soon accompanied by the feeling of his hand on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss, gliding his tongue inside your mouth so he could taste you. The duke filled you faster than ever that night, being so engulfed in the moment that he couldn’t hold on any longer.

And now, it was just over a month beyond your arrival to Castle Caladan, you were sitting with the physician while he examined you, confirming that yours and the duke’s efforts had been fruitful.

The way Leto looked at you in that moment, was a look you’d never seen before. His dark brows turned up and stitched together, soft lips parted just before a smirk curled over them. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the glossy sheen of tears apparent in his eyes.

“After years of trying to produce an heir, I finally found a perfect vessel, such a precious thing,” he cooed, touching your stomach before leaning in and finding your lips with his own. “My most wonderful treasure.”

Leto heard nothing else as the doctor murmured about you, voice seeming background to where his focus lied. Part of him was still shocked that the old woman was right. She told him in his search of her prophecy that you, a normal village girl, would produce many sons for him, and she was right. 

That night, the duke did everything he could for you. His kisses were softer, less desperate and more deliberate. His hands didn’t grab your flesh as a means to hold you, but rather to feel you. And when he sunk his cock into you, he did so in a way that emphasized your pleasure over his own, angling for those spots that made your body quiver.

You may not have been of noble birth, but to the duke, that night you were his empress. There wasn’t an inch of your skin that hadn’t been brushed by the coarse hair of his bearded chin. He worshiped you, giving you an evening dedicated to only your satisfaction.

For many weeks he would come into his chambers and ramble on about how proud he was, and how well you were doing. He would whisper the most depraved, while beautiful, things in your ear about how the people of Caladan owed you their lives, and how he couldn’t wait until it was time to breed you all over again. All of that praise was nothing though, not compared to the way he looked at you after coming back from his trip to Arrakis.

When he walked into his chambers, and you were there on his bed, only a couple short months away from birth, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the words were trapped in his throat, and his feet were stuck to the floor. All he could do was stare, and take in the beauty before him. You were simply radiant, pregnant belly full with his son, his heir; swelling breasts nearly spilling out of your dress.

Once he found the ability to move again he slowly walked over to you, taking off his coat as he sat beside you.

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

His hand reached for yours, and he was quickly reminded that you’d been a captive there, metal cuffs still wrapped around your wrists, rattling as he held you. He felt a pang in his chest, wanting desperately to release you. Every time the thought crossed his mind though, he worried you would run. You didn’t seem like you would try to leave, having become much more docile since your arrival months ago. There was also the glaring fact that you were pregnant, and it wouldn’t be easy for you to get away even if you managed to pass every one of the guards who might see you before reaching the doors of Leto’s home.

There was always that small chance though, no matter how slim, that you would leave. It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

He looked back at your body, eyes wide and trained on your stomach. The duke leaned in, kissing just above your navel, a satisfied hum escaping his lungs as he did. It was hard not to like him, and that was what you hated about him the most. The man was dedicated to his people, to his title, and his legacy more than anything. The longer you were around him, and the more time you’d spent under his care, the more you’d begun to understand your purpose within his walls.

The idea of the Harkonnens, or any other house for that matter, claiming the right to Caladan, should House Atreides produce no heir, was a frightful one. He broke you from your thoughts, eyes trailing up your chest and to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so handsome, lips slightly parted with a few stray hairs falling into his dark eyes. Despite holding you captive for the sole purpose of breeding an heir from you, you’d begun to fall for Leto Atreides, against all odds.

“My sweet girl, my darling, you’re doing so well, growing my child in your womb. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to give me a son, to give House Atreides its heir,” he whispered, cupping your cheek, bringing his forehead to yours. “I’ve been disappointed so many times.”

“Thank you my lo-”

“No sweetheart, no, shh…” he pressed a finger to your lips gently before replacing it with a tender kiss, “you should be worshiped by Caladan, it's people…I want to worship you.”

His hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you against him into a deeper kiss. You felt his growing arousal against your thigh, followed by an involuntary rut of his hips. You whined, trying not to be bothered by the incessant ache in your chest, your engorged tits becoming too heavy and painful to bear. It was hard to focus on the duke’s soothing touch when you felt such discomfort.

He stopped kissing you, looking at you with concern, “are you alright sweet one?” His eyes trailed to your tits, “are they sore? Oh you poor thing.”

You nodded and whimpered, wincing as he pulled one of your straps down and pulled a heavy breast from its confines. Your puffy nipple had a bead of white sitting on it, threatening to trickle down the mound. His pink tongue darted out, lapping up the milk that nearly fell from your breast, and humming in approval of its taste.

“Let me help you my dear,” he said softly, leaning in and latching his mouth over your chest.

You gasped at first, the coarse brush of his beard stinging against the sensitive skin, but it very quickly gave way to a much better, more soothing sensation. You sighed in relief, feeling him suckling at your flesh, drawing out the milk that had been causing your breasts to swell beyond belief. He moaned against your skin, rolling his hips idly as he did. This was very unusual for him, to be so needy and desperate for you, clinging onto your body the way he was.

In the past, Leto would’ve just taken you if he wanted to, but with your body so soft and full with his child, he would resist. Of course he knew you could take it, you weren’t made of glass, but he wanted to give you nothing but comfort, emptying you instead of filling you with more than he already had in the past. He felt your hand reach up and grab the back of his head, delicate fingers massaging between his peppery locks.

“Mm, my darling, so sweet,” he muttered against your tit, a little milk dribbling down his lips.

You felt his hips moving more, now more deliberate before, as though he were accepting of his primal urges to find release, rather than suppress it, but still unwilling to ask you for help.

“It’s alright my lord, you haven’t…mmph…you haven’t been satisfied in some time. Do what you must.”

Even though he was trying to remain stoic and refined, your permission was all he needed to throw all that aside. With his free hand he tugged at his belt, keeping his lips pursed around your nipple as he did. You heard the unmistakable clanking and rattling metal as he found success, pulling the leather from the loops and tossing it to the ground. His dexterous fingers then made quick work of his pants, pulling them to his thighs.

Leto Atreides was a nobleman, not one to give in to such animalistic delights so easily, but something about drinking from your chest, and how perfect you were serving him and his house with your pregnancy made him feral for you. His hands were shaking as he tried to bring his cock to your hole. He’d done it so many times before, why was he struggling now?

“Sir…” you pushed him off your breast, biting your lip at the sight of him as he looked up at you.

His eyes were hooded, milk-drunk and heavy. The lips that had been suckling for a while were now pink, puffy, and covered in a white, glossy sheen. You lifted your leg, sliding yourself into a position that you were both parallel to one another. You wrapped your leg around his hip, angling his fat tip to your slippery entrance.

“You’re too precious, too g-good…oh…” His hips stuttered forward, opening you wide around his cock once again.

You hadn’t been with him in so long, your body had nearly forgotten how to take him. You winced, needing to readjust once again, but he was patient, holding himself flush against your hips while your walls moved aside for his girth. He let out, what sounded like, a low growl as he mouthed at your neglected tit. His hips remained in place, making no attempt to retreat, nor to glide in further. His cock rested there contentedly, throbbing every now and then.

He gulped, humming into your breast as he drank more, the ache in your chest slowly subsiding with every moment that passed. Eventually he moved his hips lazily, pulling back after a time before rolling back forward.

What the duke was feeling with you in that moment was more than a simple sex act. What he felt now was comfort, his cock buried in your soaking, slippery heat, and his lips pursed around your nipple. Leto swirled his tongue in a slow roll over your peaked mound, taking a moment to inhale several shaky breaths before going in for more.

The way he drew more and more milk out of you was causing your body to relax further, your walls becoming more open to his slow movements and deep strokes. A low moan escaped you, forcing his eyes to shoot up, still so dark in their feral hunger. You tugged his hair, forcing him to pull off your breast with a loud pop. Without hesitation, you kissed him, filling your mouth with a combination of your sweet fluids and the duke’s own signature taste 

“You’re like no other. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to hold you close sweetheart…”

He brushed his nose against yours, eyes moving slowly from your lips, to your eyes, and back again. A swell of emotion poured through him, his desires going beyond just wanting to give you his seed, but it was something more. Your last name…it was wrong. He never wanted to take a wife, in fact, he’d vowed never to do such a thing, but you’d changed the very fiber of his being from the moment he’d found you.

“After my son is born, I’ll give you the best gift I can, the only gift I can give a woman of such importance…oh my…g…”

The duke lost himself, holding you tightly against him, though careful not to squeeze against your stomach too harshly. His choked moans vibrated against your chest while he filled you, pumping your body with his cum once again. You felt your own climax wash over your body, inspired by his own, drawing everything it could from him as it did, both of you a trembling, moaning mess.

He sighed with contentment after his mind cleared. He looked at you once more. 

“I’m going to keep you,” he kissed your lips breathlessly, “I’m going to keep you here with me. I’m going to give you my name, and until the day I die you’ll be mine, my precious thing.” He pecked you again, and then pressed his lips to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your name, sir, and to be able to walk around the castle freely,” you said softly.

Leto’s blood ran cold. 

Walk around freely…

Perhaps you’d misunderstood him, in fact, he was certain of it. He could see how his words may have been misconstrued. Evidently he would need to be more clear with you. The duke’s gaze darkened when he looked back into your eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Until the day you are barren, I cannot risk any harm to you, nor your body.” His words were chilling, but his gaze was warm. 

“You’ll never leave this room, so long as I can help it.”

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

-

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets. 

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think. 

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body. 

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew. 

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

-

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year. 

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand. 

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

-

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works. 

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?” 

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place. 

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did. 

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter. 

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face. 

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation. 

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

-

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

-

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks. 

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls. 

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to. 

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine. 

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her? 

Will she even let you?

-

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment. 

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt. 

He has always been all she has and needed. 

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

-

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

-

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing. 

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard. 

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control. 

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

-

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

-

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class. 

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even. 

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls. 

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug. 

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully. 

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice. 

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up. 

“Have it your way.”

-

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers. 

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit. 

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does. 

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you. 

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance. 

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

-

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt. 

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

[yoursinfulurges]

Serpentine

Martell!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: "Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you... To make you bow. To bend you... To break you..."

The reader rides a giant snake bc why not.

Your ethnicity is not specified.

Also apologies in advance as I stray heavily from accurate information. I mainly used Dorne and the Martells as a place holder so this is my own narrative. For the sake of this story Dorne is it's own independent land. Viserys isn't dying in this fic because he needs to catch a break so all is right except for the classic disfunction Targaryen family. I might make this a series but right now it's a oneshot.

Word Count: 6k

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The air laid heavy today as the undying heat of the desert dunes takes it's toll on you. Tearing your eyes away from the sea horizon your gaze wanders to the Sunspear port, small and far away but still so clearly visible to your bedroom tower. With uneasiness, your focal point lands on a large black ship bearing the Targaryen house symbol. Bold and imposing painted proudly on the black sails. You wonder if they were already in the castle, not knowing how late of the hour the ship got here, just that when you awoken it was miraculously there. As a Warrior Princess you pride yourself in never letting your nerves get to you but as of this moment you were a mess of anxiety, succumbing to all the ill thoughts and worries that sparked restlessness within you.

It felt stupid to be so choked up about such a frivolous thing, you always knew this day was going to come and that it was expected of you. But to have it be under such unexpected terms was gut wrenching. All your life you knew that you would never marry for love and you were alright with that, but you had at least hoped it was to somebody you were familiar with. And by familiar you did not mean this. The Targaryens were your rival house, or so it had been.

In attempts to amend old wounds your father had promised your hand to the second born prince of King Viserys Targaryen. A union that neither you or Aemond had expected, as it seemed rather out of place. Dorne is the least populated of the Seven Kingdoms and your people differ both culturally and physically from all of Westeros. So a marriage proposal from the well esteemed house Targaryen to the Martells appeared to be a myth of the First Men.

Although you weren't one to engage in pessimistic thoughts, arguably it made more sense for you to be married off to an Allyrion or Blackmont. Established noble houses of your region. The Targaryens were barbaric outsiders with tendencies to take whatever they want by bloodshed, they pave their own way with fire without regards for others. Luckily it isn't in your nature to bend and be trampled on so easily. It was known to all that your bloodlines were never meant to cross fates. The tale of how the silver haired angel fell from her grace off her dying dragons back, was a victory Dorne relished greatly in. It was a momentous triumph for history that proved the power of your people and the Martells. Aegon conquered all of Westeros but Dorne.

Some would say that there is no greater threat to the Targaryens than your bloodline. And you agreed, they had their dragons and you had your sand snakes, one venomous bite is enough to kill seven full grown dragons. Admittedly, it was a smart political move, although unforseen. A union with such bravado would surely strengthen both houses, and serve as a great threat to those who dare challenged the crown. You did feel a sense of pride not only in your house but in yourself as well, as the good of the realm rested on you.

But truthfully you were hesitant and weary, praying to the gods all goes well. As great as this union was, it also served to be quite dangerous, and can potentially be one of the most foolish mistakes all of Westeros had ever seen. If you aren't able to get along well enough, or even tolerate Aemond then goodwill will be lost and all of the realm will be set on fire. You would never purposely encourage war, but you had your own ways of living. And you understood greatly that you were far more fortunate than many women in Kingslanding. That being said, you intend to fight for your honor and dignity by all means necessary. Regardless if whether or not your husband turned out to be quite a piece of work.

You understood the true reason for your marriage, despite it being poorly concealed behind optimistic words from King Viserys. You would make it a point to yourself to do your best to serve your duty. But above all that must come your freedom and rights. Those are values you cannot afford to sacrifice. Although you doubt that the King would be malicious enough to pour honey into your fathers ears, only to set you up to be treated badly. A part of you wondered if there was any veracity to his words.

In his letter he emphasized the silent disdain your families both had for eachother, and he that wanted to put an end to things. If that is his true intentions or not was unclear, but you are not so easily trusting. You had never witnessed this so called fued between your families for yourself, having never left Dorne before. But you've heard stories of how defiant your uncles have been in court. Purposely refusing to bend the knee to the crown in their own kingdom, which of course prompted a rightful murder in your opinion. It was disrespectful and improper so therefore justified, and you were never fond of your uncles. However, this of course gave your father grounds to loathe the Targaryens. But he was much more cordial than his brothers, as he was a forgiving man.

To say that you were anxious for your husband-to-be's arrival was an understatement. You knew that your cultures varied so vastly, so what if he deemed what you were wearing improper? It was quite scandalous by the Crownlands standards but they were in your kingdom now. And truthfully it would be highly improper and frowned upon for them to chastise you in anyway. Not that you cared if they did, you had your own way of dressing and by your standards this was your idea of dressing for the occasion. You had decided to wear white instead of your house colors, it was a sign that you welcome them and were ready to accept their customs. Funnily enough, white was the color of purity and you represent anything but. Your dress was a simple one in your eyes. Soft and long in material adorned with a cape. Floral embroidery decorated the bodice of the dress, and around your waist tied a svelte sylphlike rope, casting a certain refinery to your aura. The neckline plunged low and the gown displayed two meticulous slits down the front, showcasing your thighs.

While yes it did seem rather unseemly to the unfamiliar eyes, you were not going to sacrifice your comfort and culture for the sake of decency. There was a reason to be in so little layers, the sun and heat of sahara was unkind. Sighing in content your eyes wanders over to your bed, landing on a sheathed dagger. You had put it out earlier and was originally planning on bearing it but decided not to with the advice of your mother. Scoffing at her words that rang so vividly in your ears you picked up the weapon. It was light and delicate, well as delicate as blades can get. The knife shined a pure sterling silver, unlike any other color you've seen before, well complementing your dress. It was curved in shape, mimicking a claw of sorts and the hilt was marbled with the texture of pearls. Beautiful, it was a fitting weapon for a princess of your stature. Disregarding your mothers words, you fastened the dagger around your waist, thus completing your outfit. If they dared say anything about your obscenity you would cut their tongue out of their mouth.

"Princess? They are ready for you." A member of your fathers small council alerted. Breaking you from your trance, his voice muffled slightly by your bedroom door.

The walk to the throne room was agonizing, though you held a strong and cold demeanor to the passing eye, inside you were dying. With sweaty palms you fear your head was going to explode by the amount of worries that whirlwind within it. You know little of the man you are said to marry, only hushed whispers that had managed to travel past the narrow sea. Being aware that he was a warrior, much like you, though he has little to no experience in the battlefield. You also knew that he rides the largest dragon in all of Westeros and unfortunately because of it he only has one eye. You were rather impartial on that fact, whilst yes your father did stress on you that the match wasn't ideal because of it, truthfully you did not care. After all, what's a missing eye to someone who has disfigured and tormented so many. You've had your fair shares of experience, as much as your father would allow you, but at this point you have seen it all. Honestly you were just glad to receive a match that's the same age as you. And although your views on Aemond could differ based off your judge of his character, as of right now you have yet to meet him. So it would be unjust to already discriminate against him, time would only tell if he warrants such behavior and you had plenty of patience.

Aemond however does not. His family arrived at Sunspear late in the hours of the night and were met by the King and Queen only. They were then prompted to their own rooms to get some much needed rest. All throughout the morning he has yet to see a sight of you and it was well beyond noon at this point. Now Aemond doesn't consider himself an impatient person, but when it came to meeting his soon-to-be wife he was in a particularly rushing mood. Not that he let his excitement showed, truthfully he didn't know why he was eager to meet you. Perhaps because he had long been awaiting this day since before he lost an eye. The good old days, when his childhood youth was once filled with the anticipation of receiving his own dragon and his own wife. Of course as time came the matter began to feel so subsequential, but back then that was all he ever truly cared about. Maybe in his young mind, having both a dragon and a wife meant that he was as equally masculine and worthy of the Targaryen name as his brother and nephews.

Though it was never that simple, no matter how much he tried to prove himself to his brother, he was always the lesser than. Getting picked on and berated for letting a bastard sully him. Being tormented with the idea that his wife would see him as hideous, or worst fear him. Aemond was a strong man, but he was also human and it is human for him to be insecure. What if you didn't like him? Yes he viewed this marriage as not ideal but what if you harbored animosity? Snapping out of his thoughts by his dear sister elbowing him, he turned to Helaena to wonder what prompted her discordant. It wasn't like her to be so... aware of the real world, as nicely as Aemond would put it. She nervously diverted her eyes, nodding towards towards the door and it was that moment that Aemond realized.

By the gods you were beautiful...

Ascending from the stairs was a young women unlike any he had ever seen before. And as you near Aemond found himself nervously clenching his fists. Despite showing such anxious stature, he beared no expression, contrary to his true feelings. For a moment his breathe quickened as you bow before his mother and father, gaze trailing over your exposed thighs. Scolding himself silently, he tears his eye away from your body. It was perverted for him to blatantly stare, especially since this was your normal. You probably didn't know sexual you appeared to look right now. Not that he complained.... Stop... That was how your people dressed, it would be improper to think so vile about their princess. Inhaling sharply, he keeps a steady feature as he listened to his mother greet you. Taking your hand in hers, she began to drag you over to where he and his siblings stood.

"This is prince Aegon." His mother introduced. Watching the way his brother blatantly ogled at your body, an unfamiliar feeling began to brew in his chest. He didn't like that his brother was looking at her like that, especially since she was to be his wife.

"Princess Helaena." Alicent nodded to her daughter, observing the way you smiled gently at her in acknowledgment.

"Please to meet you princess." Helaena bowed, her words timid but you returned the greeting.

"And this is prince Aemond... your betrothed."

Aemond watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way that you smiled and bowed to him. You appeared nice enough, though he didn't know what he expected. Perhaps for you to scowl and throw a fit? With this close of a distance he was able to get a good view of your face and indeed you were beautiful. But it all meant nothing if you were going to reject him. Testing the waters, Aemond takes your hand in his, curtly leaning in close as he brings your digits to his lips. Keeping a locked gaze at your expression as he places a chaste kiss on the area above your knuckles. You felt soft...

"Pleased to meet you, my princess." He spoke lowly, registering the way that you smirked in satisfaction, no alternative emotions in sight.

"The pleasure is all mine, your grace." Aemond looked at you with such scrutiny as you spoke. Trying to find hints of disgust or animosity through your porcelain mask yet as he took in every detail of your face he found no trace of abhorrence.

But behind your doe eyes there was something there, something he could not quite place. It was unfamiliar in every sense and he didn't know how to decipher it. You were giving him a knowing look as if you two both shared a sacred secret with one another. And although Aemond did not know what prompted this emotion, he desperately wanted to know more.

Much of the evening was filled with merriment and mirth as the hatred that once squandered friendships faded away. Your father and the king talked of many things alike and began to realize that in truth it was time to mend things. The tension between your families was long in the past although unavoidable between you and Aemond. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to you but everywhere you went he followed. Watching silently like a predator stalking it's prey as you conversed with his sister. He didn't mean to be so stand offish. Truthfully he wanted to have a little privacy away from his family to get to know you more. There was very little room for you both to talk without intrusion. Whilst yes, the thought of being unsupervised with you may be a little unbecoming, he liked it that way. Perhaps only then, when he corners you, will he get to uncover the reasoning for your unbidden stares.

There was something rather vulgar beneath those siren eyes as you looked at him with sharp conviction. The way your vision would haze and cloud with interest, lips curling in a sly smirk displaying ardor. You were teasing him...

Throughout the evening you both danced around one another till eventually it turned into a game of cat and mouse. You moved with such precision and allure that Aemond found himself awestruck and wanting more. It was exciting to him. He admired how you carried yourself with such elegance and high importance, seeming almost unearthly. They say Targaryens are closer to gods than man, but your very existence challenged that claim. You had vanity, that was plain to see. Your moves are convoluted and don't go unnoticed by him, carefully articulating around the labyrinth of walls he built up. You were the embodiment of serpentine and he didn't know what scared him most. The fact that he is so ready to welcome you with open arms, or the fact that you were aware of your power over him.

Aemond, in principle, is not used to the physical manifestation of feelings. And yet here he was now, standing in the middle of a fucking desert, longing for affection. Or perhaps he only enjoyed the thought because it involved you touching him. There was something so genuine about you, something so raw and potent with rapport. He saw it while you were speaking with his sister, you treated her like anyone else and that was rare to see. You had an affinity for empathy and a way with words like no other, you knew just what to say to his family. That was impressive in it's own right.

It became glaringly obvious now to Aemond that the you had a gifted touch, you were able to make anyone feel like the rarest gem in the world. Yet in truth no diamond is brighter than it's maker. To Aemond you were a paragon of the finest jewels. The sapphire of his eye. He knew it was unhealthy for him to get so attached to you so quickly but how could he not. All his youth he had been waiting for this. Having grown up alone, watching everyone get the things he wanted and now here you were. You were his, he's never had anything that was completely fully his...

"Forgive me I didn't know anyone would be in here..." Aemond spoke lowly, breaking you from your trance as you tore your eyes away from your book.

"This is my private study, my prince... You are free to join me if you wish." The hour was late and nearly all of the castle has gone to bed already. All but you and Aemond... Welcoming him to sit with you over the fireplace as you set your literature aside. This would be interesting...

You both didn't speak for a moment as you feel his presence quickly approaching. Straightening your nightwear as you feel him sit across from you on the untaken armchair. You lift your graze to finally meet his stare in an act of bravery, breath halting for a moment... He made you nervous in every sense imaginable as he held your gaze in confidence.

Aemond Targaryen was gorgeous in such a violent way. You only began to observe it now. There was something so fierce and daunting about his face. Porcelain yet warrior-like, rivaling the beauty of Old Valyria. The prince had a certain vainglory to him. Silent but raw, untamed, and unchallenged. He was unlike any man, the son of war worthy of the iron throne. Strong nose that contrasted his expression well. Dainty lips that utter soft spoken words like whisps.

In secret you wanted them to articulate sweet nothings in your ear...

You did not know where these overwhelming feelings channeled from. But as his hold bore into you, it evoked a touch of insecurity. You felt like he was looking at your very core, past skin and bones and at your morals. Never in your life had you ever gazed at such man. His features preforming one great symphony. A constellation of trauma and abuse in the form of a scar kissed his skin, creating a myriad of Venus. It became painfully evident now that he brought something out in you. Gods be good...

He stared at her with a soft gaze, admiring the way the lit fire illuminated her skin. Openly, he thought you beautiful, although majority of the men here can also say the same thing. Yet as he looked at you more Aemond found himself really seeing you. That enchanting aura faltering just a little bit. You looked vulnerable right here, right now in this exact moment. You looked human. And he thought it was beautiful. The more he sat there the more content he got with this union, you were a fine match. Perhaps it was alright to be vulnerable....

Aemond doesn't say anything for a few more moments, simply gazing at the you as he licks his lips. While you could see yourself in his eye, you wondered what he was truly seeing to look at you like that. Like you were carved from the finest of diamonds and bathed in gold, like if you were to touch him he'd crumble– a careful mix of admiration and fear. Time starts to still and the atmosphere around you began to form tension. Suddenly the fireplace mutes, fading into nothing but hushed crackle as the two find themselves at a standstill. It was just you and him in your sacred little world... No one else... All turns irrelevant as you become intoxicated with eachothers presence.

"Tell me about yourself princess." He spoke, breaking the silence that overtook the room. Pausing for a brief moment to let his gaze wander from your face. Well..... this was improper indeed... The clothes you wore were foreign to him but he gathered it was your nightwear. Temperatures here hot here, it made sense for you to wear very little at night, not that he complained. It was captivating... the garment didn't look like a dress, but rather a two piece that was interwoven together with three long panels covering your modesty. The color was rather fitting on you, a darker grey than the dress you wore earlier almost appearing silver. Sitting with your thighs exposed in a leaned back and slack manner, Aemonds focus leaves your skin and meets your face once more. Breath hitching as your smirk widens. You had caught him looking...

"Forgive me for being so crass, but I'm not one to soften words. My people are very blunt individuals and I dislike small talk so allow me to have some clarity." Your words were honey to his ears, he wasn't entirely fond of small talk either, but your inquiry made him nervous.

"Please, never bite back your tongue when you are with me, what do you wish to know?" Aemond spoke after some time, leaning back to cross his leg over the other.

"What are your views are on our marriage and if you intend to honor our union."

"I'm not following..." Confused he urged on.

"Do you.... intend to stray from our marriage..." His eye widens at that, shocked that you would ask him such question. But it was only fair...

"I know that is straight forward and unseemly but please allow me the peace of knowing now, as it less complicates things later on..." Ah'  he said within the confinements of his brain, finally understanding the meaning of your words. Aemond looked down in deep thought, trying to find the right words to say to you. He was a territorial man, possessive in every way so this question striked a certain nerve in him. He wondered why you would even ask that, unless you already had a lover.... He didn't like that thought. That could not be.

"I would never purposely hurt our dignity like that. Truthfully I find it foolish. I am a man that values duty above all, and tis my duty to be your husband and unite our kingdoms. I have seen what infidelity has done to my family, the strain it puts on my mother... I never want to be the cause of her pain by fathering bastard children. So perhaps it is best we stay true to one another." Satisfied with his response, you let out a faint 'hm' before turning away.

"So I've heard... Thank you for enlightening me." You spoke as you stared in great thought at the fire, though he can see a faint smile on your lips.

"Has word of my bastard nephews been so vastly spread that it reached the shores of Sunspear?" He pressed on, now an accompanying smile spreads on his lips, mirroring his companions expression. You laughed at that, a sound Aemond declared he liked.

"People talk, prince Aemond, naturally word would get around." You spoke teasingly, stopping for minute just to admire one another. Calmness falling over you both, as you sat still unbidden just gazing into eachothers rarity.

"Hmm... Tell me, do you intend to honor our union?" Aemond spoke, his voice sounded rougher than before, and you think he may have even rolled his eye. Smirking to yourself as you began to understand that he was a possessive man.

"Of course. I believe in fair playing fields, and getting even. So if you do not provoke me then I will not act out and provoke you. If you are loyal then I will be loyal." In a quick motion he was up his chair and standing directly in between your thighs. You peered up at him through your lashes, the smirk pulling at your lips growing by the second.

His heart sits heavily between the two of you, weeping for your touch, yearning with such want, such need. He swears when your eyes echoes his wants, tempting him to indulge you through curled lashes. The man condemns himself for feeling so reckless, so needy, he had never felt this way before... Felt so much desire towards another individual. He knew this was bad, a distraction but if you were a sin, he'd happily walk into the gates of hell. And at that he surged forward. Breathing a shaky sigh as his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

You whimper at the pressure, your small hands flying to hold his arm but it was no use. He laughed lightly, pushing your head back onto the armchair, almost taunting you. Your back arches lightly, trying to push yourself up against him, whining when you couldn't. He leans down over you, his face so close as he lifts his knee onto the chair. Placing it directly in between your thighs, almost touching your heat.

Oh how badly he wanted this...

"Is that a threat my princess?" Aemond says directly in your right ear, his thumb leaving your neck to roughly graze your lower lip. You don't meet his eyes, choosing to look at somewhere else. You fear if you looked at him you'd lose the remaining composure you had left. He didn't like that, roughly turning your head to meet his face.

"No. I'm merely stating that I refuse to be subjected. Tis' not in my nature to bend the knee. Especially not to Targaryens. I understand that it is our duty to get along but who knows how this marriage ends up playing out. The Martells have stood unbowed, unbent and unbroken for centuries. You may burn me, but you will never make me kneel." You say through a heavy chest, trying desperately to get the words out even though you sounded much needier than intended.

It’s was hot, almost unbearable, and you wondered if whether or not it was the scorching heat of the sun, or just your own body feeling all flushed. Deciding it was the latter since the introductory was highly unlikely. You waited for him to speak, looking sharply at his lips. His eyelids flutter. Never in a million years would he have expected to be driven to the brink of insanity by the mere thought of someone’s lips. Nevertheless, you came along to put all of his bravado to shame. He felt like a young boy again, experiencing all of his firsts once more but this time, it was not with a lowly prostitute under Aegon's urge. No, he was entirely in control and the feelings were infinitely better, you were a goddess. Temptation lulled together with passion and possessiveness. Emotions being cradled by divinity in it's arms, it was all so intense. He wanted more of it...

"Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you, princess..." Aemond whispered, placing his forehead over your own as his finger tips trailed over the exposed skin of your waist. You shiver lightly and he laughs, closing your eyes as his hands get lower and lower...

"To make you bow in submission." He draws smooth circles on your hips. You felt warm, it was all too much but you didn't want him to stop. You liked the way he was speaking so close to you, liked the way he touched all over your body.

"To bend you..." Your eyes open lightly as you began to feel him lift your right thigh up onto the armchair. Looking at him as he says the words so slowly, watching as he positioned your body.

"To break you." He does the same to your left thigh, and it was at this point on you began to realize that he had spread your legs wide open. Fuck... The situation now dawning on you. This wasn't right... not until you were both married...

"You forget yourself, Aemond." You remind him, eyes locked on the visible bulge on his pants.

"Perhaps I do, there is a fire in you and it amuses me." Channelling the words deep in his throat as he grabs ahold of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and away from his desire.

"Would you like to keep being amused?" Smirking lightly, a playful veil over takes your features.

"It's too soon my sweet." Aemond nods. If it were any other day he would have taken you, right here, right now. But it was far too soon, you had just met today and his mother would have his head if he bruised you this early on. He was not a gentle man, the world would know if he fucked you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Aemond scoffs at that, watching you turn away. He straightens up, but still keeps his leg in between your spread thighs.

"Oh do you not? Then please tell me, how do you plan on amusing me?" Lightly guiding your chin with his fingers to look at him once more.

"With my lips of course."

"We can't touch eachother but there's no saying we can't share a loving kiss, or perhaps a kiss more than loving..." You smile lightly and he mirrors your expression.

"Now that I can condone." And at that he leans forward to cup your face and takes your lips in his. Holding his wrists once more, you smile into the kiss. Maybe this union wouldn't be all that bad... You're getting quite content with being by Aemonds side.

Next part

Authors Note:

I want to make this a little mini series perhaps, like you and Aemond's wedding and consummation, your children being born, you meeting Vhagar and him meeting your giant snake etc. Let me know what you guys think. I also did not edit this beforehand lmao. I'm not overly proud of this story but it's a good way to revive my Tumblr and branch out from the MCU. I'm taking requests in my inbox!

- Armoni

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen scenarios #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd season 1 #aemond smut #aemond scenario #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #game of thrones x reader #house targaryen #house martell #jacaerys targaryen #helaena targaryen #targaryen x reader #dance of the dragons #alys rivers #oneshot #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[chronically-ghosted]

stay sexy and don’t get murdered

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide. 

(This is the Only Murders in the Building smut fic in the chaotic stylings of Dieter Bravo.)

warnings: brief moments of tv-appropiate terror, arguing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death/murder, but more importantly: smut (like half of this is smut), oral (f!receiving), dieter’s bare ass nearly catching on fire, too many feelings for something that started as a crack fic idea

a/n: this is my submission for the Dieter Brainrot Club server challenge! Thank you so much to @sp00kymulderrr for putting this together!

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Dieter Bravo Masterlist

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On the other side of the false door, the floor creaks. Fear arches up the back of your spine, your fingers digging into your thighs, your heart pounding somewhere near your ears. The threads of light that struggle through the nearly invisible cracks fade and emerge as heavy boots cross back and forth over the wooden floor. A thousand panicked thoughts pierce one after the other –

Did you shut the door all the way?

Could the intruder see the seams in the wall? 

What were they waiting for?

And then, like a red, bright flare barreling through your brain: what the fuck were they after in Dieter’s apartment?

Another step closer to the false door and dread smothers every thought in your head, until you can hear the thundering of your own heart, the quick draw of your breath that is obviously so loud, the intruder has to hear it. 

Another bootfall, another creak, less light – he’s coming right for you you’re drawing him in – you inhale sharply, fear beating your heart against your breast bone the closer and closer the shadow comes – all the light is gone – and –

His hand slips over your mouth and draws you against his chest. The chill of the hidden crawl space dissipates against his warm skin, his solid forearm like a protective barrier over your chest, his fingers suddenly around your wrist as if to catch you. Your body must think it's falling because your hands grip him around the forearm, pulling him even tighter, his warmth a balm to the sinking cold of fear. 

Shhh . . .

Maybe he says it or maybe you just hear it in your head, his lips against your ear, not a gust of air between your bodies, his own breathing so faint you vaguely think he might be holding his breath. The heady scent of his muted cologne – days old at this point – mixed with the zing of something citrus-y has your head fogging up faster, fear dripping away like melting ice. You want to keep your eyes trained on the cracks of light, keep your muscles tense and ready for a fight when that door inevitably opens – but you swallow against his fingers when you realize that underlying smell of spice coming from him is the smell of Takis sticks and how much it turns you the fuck on. 

In the silence, the footfalls stop. The pressure and overpowering heat at your back makes sweat peak at your hairline, heartbeat at a low thrum. You’re entirely sure both of you have stopped breathing, just waiting, hoping –

You squeeze your eyes shut – 

And then the boots turn away. Heavy, lurking, but in the opposite direction. The invader paces up and down the length of the apartment, never coming near the secret door again. And then, as quickly as he came, the front door opens and shuts. 

There is quiet, a ringing silence. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Dieter gasps out. He lets you go, giving you space again, and you are instantly cold. He drops his hands to his navy sweatpants over his knees, head dropping down against his chest. “Holy shit I thought we were gonna die.” 

Your lips are still warm from his hand so as if to give it back because you don’t want anything from him, you pout them out.

“If you didn’t fight with me about hiding, we would have had more time. Why are you physically incapable of listening to me?”

You watch sweat roll down his temples and you realize your back is also damp. Your knees quake as the adrenaline subsides. The droplet from his hair continues down his throat, catching on his collarbone between the two folded edges of pink-and-black see-through kimono he wore like it was a totally normal thing. Of course this is his painting outfit. 

If Dieter catches you oogling, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he straightens up and rubs his eye with the back of his wrist, still a bit out of breath. 

“You know, when someone with tits like yours pushes me into a dark closet, I’m not really one to argue, but I think I should get some credit for not calling the cops on the first person who broke into my apartment today. What the fuck were you doing in there?”

You’re not quite sure what makes you flush harder: that he caught you doing something highly illegal or that he thinks your tits are dark-closet worthy. 

“Your apartment is one of the few original rooms built as part of the Rhododendron,” you answer defensively, arms crossed. “And since these passageways never showed up on any later building plans, I figured no one knew they were here.” 

Dieter frowns as he wipes the back of his neck with his palm and your eyes definitely don’t track it. 

“You’re saying there have been people living in my walls, watching me jerk off and I never knew?” His dumbstruck look melts into one of lewd satisfaction. “Nice.”

No, see, this was why nothing was ever going to ever happen between you two. 

“God, Dieter, you’re disgusting.” You shove past him and lean into the door. “People aren’t living down here. Didn’t you hear what I said? Hardly anyone knows about this at all – and they aren’t waiting around – to watch – you come –,”

Three hard pushes and the door remains firmly shut. What the fuck? Your fingers skim the seams, looking for a latch or a handle, something.

“You can yell at me once we get back inside.” He shudders and wraps his arms around his chest. “I’m freezing my nips off in here.” 

“I’m trying, Dieter, but it won’t open –,” you push harder, using even more force than you did to open it on the other side. “It’s stuck.” 

“Move, I’ll do it –,”

“Fuck you, Dieter, I got it.”

“We’d be outta here by now if you did.”

“Just help me–,”

“Ugh – fine –  on the count of three – one –,”

“Two –,”

“Three!” 

Nothing. He slumps to the floor, his bare feet sprawled out in front of him. 

“For this much grunting and sweat,” he pants, “we should definitely be fucking.”

You flick his ear, glaring at him, the heat of exertion sparking up to your cheeks at his words. He scowls up at you and claps a big hand over his ear as if to protect it from further assault. 

With a huff, you take out your phone and slide on the flashlight. As suspected, the crawlspace continues on, long into the dark. 

“C’mon, there has to be a way out somehow.” 

“You’re not serious,” he snaps from behind you. “Even I know in an emergency situation you have to stay put and wait for the authorities.”

“Oh, you mean the authorities that don’t know we’re here and probably will never know, with my –,” you check your phone for emphasis, “zero bars!” 

His hands fly to his pant pockets and groans. “Fuck, I don’t have mine.” 

You step back, hinging at the waist in a low bow. “Then lead the way.”

���Fuck, this is not how I wanted to spend my night.” He groans again and shoves the heel of his palms into his eyes before crawling to his feet. He wraps the air-thin kimono around his torso and fixes you with a solid glare. “Fine, but I’m charging you for every toe I lose to hypothermia.” 

The hallways grow colder and darker the further you go, the air thickening with dust. You walk longer and longer as the passageway narrows until his shoulder bumps yours and eventually he has to follow an inch behind you to get through. But he’s not close enough to be warm.

“Can’t believe my last fucking meal was Froot Loops,” Dieter announces to the darkness after what feels like you’ve been walking for hours. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s scowling. “Fucking nasty.”

Your jaw aches from how tightly you grind your teeth together. 

“If it was so nasty, then why did you eat it?” 

“I couldn’t UberEats Captain Crunch,” he sniffs and you realize how cold your own nose is. “There’s a blizzard going on outside, didn’t you hear? Or were you too busy playing Nancy Drew, Baby’s First Break in?”

“I didn’t think you’d be home so early. You usually stop painting around eight, not 6:30.” 

“And just what were you hoping to find?” The casual sarcasm has been leached from his voice and genuine anger crackles over your shoulder. “I told you Mags gave me that key to her apartment of her own free will –,”

“– which you just conveniently forgot to mention–,”  

“– she gave it to me months ago and, so, yeah, sue me for forgetting!” You want to bite back with something, something to make the painful ache in your chest when you found out he had been lying to you go away. Something to scrape the taste of shame and disappointment off your tongue. But you know everything you’d throw at him would be unfair and childish. You stew so long in a bottle of your own rage and hurt that you don’t realize the silence has stretched on far too long.

When Dieter speaks again, he’s several steps behind you. You shine the flashlight on him and he barely flinches. You can see his broad shoulders shivering and you do think his feet look worryingly pink.

“The last time I saw Mags was just before a six month shoot. She gave me that key and told her to surprise her when I came back.” His teeth are chattering but he won’t look up at you. “I meant to call her, check in, while I was gone, but I just . . .” He shakes his head, eyes tightly shut. “I got back into town an hour after they found her body . . . which means I didn’t kill her, for the record. You can check my ticket.”

Your mouth drops open, shame spreading out like an electric shock across your skin. “Dieter, I never thought that you . . .”

His glare levels you and you wonder what his face looked like after you slammed the door behind you that night you found the key. You had spent two weeks afterwards wandering the halls looking for secret tunnels to peel the image of his face just before you left in a rush from the walls of your brain. What had he done in all that time apart?

“Whatever. Let’s just go. I think you already owe me a thousand bucks.”

He tries to move forward but you block him, standing in the middle of the hallway. The light of your phone hits him from underneath and his jawline plays shadows on his chest. 

“I didn’t leave because I thought you killed her, Dieter. You lied to me. I’ve been running in fucking circles over this thing for weeks and all this time you kept something from me! It felt like you were . . .”

“What?”

The heat of your anger rolls up to the back of your neck. “It . . . i-it felt like you were manipulating me. Play detective with the little idiot in 2B because you’re bored and I was . . . available. Like what we were doing, it didn’t matter to you.” 

Dieter’s teeth clench on the right side of his jaw. “Of course it matters to me. Mags was the only one in this entire building who treated me like a person and not a fucking spectacle. She was important to me and I know she didn’t kill herself. I wanna get the fucker who did it as much as you do.” 

“But you kissed me!” You feel the cold in the air drop down into your lungs so fast your chest aches. “You kissed me, Dieter, and then I found the key on accident – like you were hiding it from me – a-and I heard the message Anika left on your voicemail. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but . . .” You squeeze your eyes shut, the cold from your lungs seeping into your bones. It’s nearly hard to breathe. “You and I are very different people, Dieter, and there’s not a world I can imagine you want anything to do with me, or Mags. I thought you were just . . . playing with me.”

The light of the phone hovers between you and him. Your toes are starting to ache from the ice-cold concrete and you briefly consider taking off your shoes and giving him your socks because that’s the instinct he draws from you. Despite how you fought it, how you clawed and scratched, you want Dieter Bravo to be okay, to be happy. But you can’t prostrate yourself on the altar of someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.

Not again.

“Dieter, please say something.” You can see his pant leg tremble in the blue light. “I’m sorry I–,”

“Did you ever think I like the fact that you’re different from me? From everything that my world means? That everything that makes you, you is amazing and gorgeous and I’m so fucking drawn to it, I lose sleep at night.” His voice is deep, hulking in a way that fills up the dark corridor until you feel like you are being smothered. But it’s not angry, not aggressive. If anything, his voice is thick with regret. “Anika was . . . a mistake. She knows that now. She’s seen it. So I can’t blame you for r-running the way you did, but . . . I’m not lying to you. Not about Mags, or how I feel, or anything else. I never have and I never will. You got that?”

Swallowing the grisly, meaty knot in your throat that could be mistaken for your emaciated heart, you nod. You are suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to fall to your knees and confess your own sordid past that made you the way that you are because he needs to know you’re NOT amazing or gorgeous or anything resembling someone worth losing sleep over. 

He needs to know he should run from you

“I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes, seriously. We need to get out of here.” 

He stands there staring, the dark shadows abandoned by the light of your phone hiding whatever is in his eyes. And then you realize he’s waiting for you to move. Your knees and elbows locked from the cold and the weight of his confession, you stiffly turn around, heading into the darkness without looking back.

About an hour later, Dieter bursts through his apartment again with a cry of relief and immediately bolts for the fireplace. He twiddles with the switch a second before a massive fire belches from behind the sleek black grate. With another deep groan, he drops in front of the fire and sticks his hands centimeters from the metal fence. He wiggles his toes and props them up on the marble lip. The stiffness recedes, the pink fading, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Either come in and shut the door . . . or leave.” 

Your fingers wrap around the edge of the black door. You are cold. Your fingers are cold. The hole in your heart that’s been growing there long before you met Dieter . . . makes you step through the threshold and shut the door behind you.

Dieter wiggles his toes against the marble lip, his elbows over his knees, his eyes the color of earth in autumn. He neither tenses or relaxes when you sit down next to him, extending your own extremities closer to the fire. 

The color has returned to his lips and you can’t find anything else in the room to look at. 

“I’d offer you a drink,” he murmurs to the flames, “but I still can’t feel my feet.”

I lose sleep at night.

“Dieter, look, I’m . . .”

His thick fingers wrap around the bone of his wrist and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You don’t have to say anything. Don’t . . . don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” 

“Thank you, Dieter.” You glance at him. The fire crackles in his eyes, wide in disbelief, fingers tangled together. “I mean that. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without you.” 

He chuckles after a pause. “That’s not what you said when I broke into the super’s storage closet for you.”

“You’re going to get us arrested,” you roll your eyes and bump your shoulder into his. With a grin that is innocent and hopeful and full of bright fire from behind the grate, his gaze drops to the plush of your mouth, the wet crease where your tongue soothes dry skin, and his bottom lip curls between his teeth. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, “I’ve always liked the idea of you in handcuffs.”

As though his gaze has a solid presence, it licks fire down your throat, over the back of your neck, rocketing into your spine and swooping low into the peak of your thighs. It darts over your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your ears, dragging lightning in its wake.

It isn’t the first time you’re consumed by the thought of kissing Dieter Bravo and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’s the first time you are made so overwhelmingly helpless by it, the wind is knocked out of you for a second. 

You wait too long to breathe, too long to tear your gaze away from his lips, too long to realize you’re leaning into him, until his broad hand redirects your forward motion up into his open mouth. 

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed Dieter Bravo and dear fucking god, please don’t let it be the last. 

His tongue lines your bottom lip, tasting, memorizing, marking that place that has you tilting in closer. Beneath your fingertips, the recluse beard scratches and burns and you take his jaw in both palms because you can’t wait to push it between your legs. His fingers wind into your hair and he’s leaning over you, consuming you like only your dreams of this kiss had before. 

All it takes is one soft sigh, one final moan of relief, your fingers curling around the flimsy kimono, and Dieter pins you to the floor in a single fluid motion. His knee digs into your thigh, trapping your legs apart, to make room for himself in the cradle of your hips, pressing himself into you and pushing air from your lungs. You can feel him hard, the tip of his cock warm against you, and that simple fact – the fact he wants you so badly – has you slotting an arm around the back of his neck, tugging him in tighter, closer, because not even sex would bring him deeper inside you. With a grunt, Dieter’s hand leaves your cheek, running hotly down your neck, the curve of your shoulder, and into the dip of your hip. He squeezes and you whine against his teeth. He rucks his leg up under your thigh, squeezes you again, rougher, more intentional, and you tug your head back, gasping for breath, lungs on fire and mind whirling like a book flipping open in the wind. 

You groan, air precious and limited, as he sinks just a hint of teeth into your jaw, your earlobe – harder, then – your throat, his tongue going flat and fat against your skin, then the valley of your collarbone. He mouths lower on your chest over your shirt, need overwhelming logic, and your fingers fly to slide up your own shirt, wriggling between his cock and the floor, and when he sees you peel your shirt up over your ribs, his mouth parts, eyes dark, framed by darker lashes.

“Fuck.”

Your back arches towards his mouth, towards his tongue and lips and teeth and the hot pant of air coming from the back of his throat. The lip of your shirt exposes your heaving tits and Dieter plants his mouth in the curve, groaning with a mouthful of your skin. He sucks, teeth prickling the skin, as if he could eat his way through you. His hips sway forward, heavy against the seam of your jeans and his nose draws up to your jaw before he’s kissing you again. 

“I’m not manipulating you,” he hums out of nowhere. He blinks his bleary eyes at you, his wide hands stilling in their touch, and you want to laugh and grin and tell him he’s being silly but you can’t, you can’t over the wild beat of your heart, the sincerity in his voice a grounding force beneath the bloom of pleasure riding up from where his hips press into yours. He dips his head and drops a hot, open-mouth kiss to your throat. “‘M not, I swear, I swear–,”

“I know, Dieter.” You tug his chin up with the press of your thumb, into your seeking mouth, and he groans, tasting the transference of want, of truth, of pure desperation on your tongue. The slip of lip between his teeth turns his touch frantic. 

“I want this.”

“Me too.”

Shifting over you, he kisses back down your neck, short whiskers stroking tiny burns against your skin, down your chest until he dips his head over your right breast, and bites – then soothes with his tongue. His hand nearly maps your other tit in one palm.

He squeezes as he bites again and your hips drive up into his, bliss sparkling like lightning between storm clouds beneath your skin. You aren’t sure if you moan his name or if it’s just pasted over every thought in your head. He makes you lose all sense. 

With a groan he lifts his head just an inch, the cold tip of his nose drawing senseless shapes over the curves of your breast.

“Wanna see your tits – can I see your tits, please?” His hand slides up your back, between your bra band and your hot skin and digs his nails in. “Please, pretty girl, please.”

You whine your consent, nodding into the messy heap of hair that tickles your chin, and he pinches your bra off before the last dip of your head. He flings it into the darkness behind him and with a strained groan, Dieter opens his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

The corners of his mouth are still a bit cold, the heat of the fire not quite enough, and when he slurps up from the underside, the fat curve of your tit, up to your nipple again it’s like someone outlined your goosebumps in ice. You scratch at his head, begging him deeper into your chest, and he obliges with a wet, swollen hickey on the top of your tit. His teeth hurt but with each suck, it’s like he’s plucking at the string connected directly to your cunt. You throb for him. 

His fingernail grazes the irate pink of your nipple, circling it again and again before he pinches and you arch, right into the flat hardness of his cock. You shake and intentionally, unintentionally, you don’t know your own body right now, rub up against his cock and Dieter, with your tit halfway in his mouth, chokes. 

“Fuck, I’d ask you to do that again, but I’m gonna come like a fucking jet engine in my pants. Lemme in,” he’s babbling as his hands drop to the button of your jeans and wrench the zipper down, “I’m gonna eat you out till you’re fucking dry.” 

Shoulders pressed back against the white shag carpet, you help him yank your pants down over your hips, up your calves, and off your feet. Dieter’s eyes can’t find a place to land – from the purple claim he’s laid over your tits, to the sucker pink swell of your lips, to the wettest cunt he’s maybe ever seen in his whole life –

He sits up on his heels and nearly gets caught up yanking the kimono off his shoulders. With shaking fingers, he unties his sweatpants and tugs himself out. 

You’d never noticed before when your mouth flushes with spit at the sight of a good meal.

You do now. 

He’s not overwhelmingly long, but he is thick, thick and a ruddy red, cream dribbling out. The sweat on his chest and stomach a few inches above sparks gold and warm in the light of the fire. In a single swipe over his palm, Dieter spreads that wet precum over his long cock, easing a few smooth strokes. 

“Mhn, this is what I look like when I fuck myself at night t-thinking – thinking of you,” he groans. His hand curls around your thigh, keeping you pinned, keeping you spread. But the sight of him jerking off and moaning your name drops your knees apart and your hand on your clit. With every swipe, you circle faster until you think it’s his hand on his cock that’s doing this to you. Dieter watches, mouth open, shoulders curved as you spin yourself wetter and wetter. “Came so hard I blacked out with the thought of you like this in my head. Wait, baby, move, I wanna –,” 

His hands on your knees, he shuffles closer and like you can see his words without asking, you tilt your hips up towards him, receiving him as he rubs his cock between your soaked folds. His blunt head catches your clit again and again, and you twitch, as though shocked in an electrical storm. 

“Oh, fuck, baby –,”

You dig your nails into the back of his hands over your knees, using the leverage to speed up his thrusts, the ruddy tip smacking where you need him most but never inside. His eyes flutter as he feels you soak his cock, slick dripping between your thighs and the shine against your skin nearly knocks the wind out of him. He grips you harder. 

“Fuck it, I gotta know what you fuckin’ taste like.” 

In a move that catches your legs over his shoulders, rolls your ass up off the floor, and his body back and further down, Dieter tucks his head and latches onto your cunt, presented high near his face. He inhales as he drinks, as he eats, as he dines on the spillage down to your ass. Dieter moans and suddenly the boiling heat of pleasure rages to an inferno when he wraps his lips around your clit and licks with the flat brim of his tongue. 

“Oh, oh-h-hmy fucking god, Dieter!”

It’s whiny and debauched, but it’s also a plea, a desperate bid to the last traces of your sanity. Your eyes roll back in your head and your back, flat, on the floor, but Dieter lays flat on his stomach, fingers pressing into your thighs, shoulders shoved up against the curve of your legs – his tongue still dragging breathless gasp after breathless gasp out of you. He’s tapping out nuclear launch codes with little licks of his tongue, eyes as effective at pinning you down as his thighs were. 

You can feel yourself drip for him, on him, into him because his mouth is pressed right up against the seam of your pussy. Words rise and fall and die in your throat, your mind following the rising path of your orgasm into nirvana. 

“Say it, baby,” he husks into your damp curls. “Tell me how good I fuck you with my tongue.” 

You groan, riding his nose. “So fucking good. Oh, fuck, wait, right there – oh, shit – Dieter, baby, ahh–,”

It comes on without warning, without slowing down, without giving you a second to breathe before bliss flattens you like a train. It courses through you, singeing your blood and showering sparks behind your eyes. You spill more for him, so much for him, and he eats, like drinking honey from the source – spill, and spill until there’s nothing but a thready pulse inside your body. 

He’s sucking directly from your tingling pussy when you finally push him back with a groan. Dieter retaliates with a huff, mhm mm, eyes black like the coals inside the grate, the entire bottom half of his face hidden from view as he hungrily tugs your hips to him with both arms. You’d never seen him quite so sure about something, so possessive.

Like he already owns your cunt. Stop me, I dare you, he taunts with his eyes.

“Dieter,” you plead, mouth dry, heart fluttering with each lick of his tongue. Your poor clit is drenched and stiff. “B-baby, I need you . . . up here.” 

With one last prod that slides just barely between your cheeks, up through your leaky hole, and swiping your clit one last time, Dieter unplugs himself from you, murmuring and wiping his mouth as he goes. Your skin glistens where his mouth leads and he can’t resist shining up that purple swell as if showing off where he lanced you through the heart. 

You half-expect him to shove his pants all the way down and shove himself into you, but he doesn’t. Instead the man known for his hedonism around the world and certainly within the building crawls up your body, drops a grateful kiss into the bend of your neck, and one by one, folds onto his elbows over you. His face smells like you, his aquiline nose inches from your own, his lips still damp and warm, and the soft brush of those lips high on your cheek has you shuddering in his arms, digging your nails into his expansive shoulders and tipping him into your waiting mouth.

He kisses you for a moment, breathing roughly out of his nose, before he wipes his broad palm across your forehead and pushes your hair back over your head, cupping the curvature of your  skull. The motion drags your eyes open.

“Hi there, baby,” he murmurs quietly across your lips, eyes soft and a thousand miles deep. Your legs tuck up around his hips. “Can I fuck you now?”

You nod through the sudden blockage in your throat, the swelling in your chest making your heartbeat twice as hard. You think you might die if he doesn’t. Dieter presses a kiss with just a hint of teeth against your cheek before sliding back down, littering your skin with kisses full of praise and heat, and hovering above your belly button, he knees off his sweatpants, fully down from his hips, the motion bending him forward and pressing his face into the swell of your stomach.

“I wanna make this last,” he slurs into your skin, “but I don’t think I can. Fucking dreamed about you for weeks. Scared out of my mind when you didn’t pick up your phone.”

Dieter covers you with his body, his palm planted by your ear, the other hand wrapped around himself, and his words register in your brain, the desperation peeling back the fog of lust-drunk. 

“W-when didn’t I answer my phone?”

His eyes, dark and wet, glance up from where you’re nearly combined and you nod, hands sliding from his biceps up to his shoulders. With a groan deep in his chest, Dieter rolls his hips forward, the blunt head of his cock sliding you apart and your mind nearly in half. You arch your back to take him more fully.

Half-way in and he drops his other hand to mirror the one by your head. He keeps pushing, keeps making room for himself, the thickness nearing choking you into blackness. You whine, incoherent syllables, and he grinds his jaw together.

“W-when you – fuck, baby, you’re so tight – when you went to that m-meat – ngh –,” he’s almost flushed against you, “that factory, ah-all by yourself.” 

Are you sweating? How are you sweating already? 

He ends against you, and you both groan at the sensation of his thick weight settling inside of you. You bury your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and tug – how dare you make me feel so good why haven’t you done this before please god don’t fucking stop now

“You were f-filming – Dieter! – you were in another countr-ry.” 

With half a laugh, delirium twisting his mouth up into a smile, he lowers down and kisses you, your own mouth slow to follow him. He pulls back, a fraction of an inch. 

“I would have dropped everything for you. Now, hush, I gotta fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” 

His palm cupping the back of your head, his arm curled with his hand flat on the floor, Dieter starts slow, his pace deep, curious just how much of him you can take without actually tearing apart, and his cock brushes something that sends sparks up behind your eyes, splits your mouth apart, and wrenches his name out of your mouth.

“There we go,” he hisses in your ear and speeds up his thrusts. Like music cranked up on a radio, you can feel yourself pulse, your heartbeat in your neck, as every tap of his cock overwhelms your body with pleasure. The least you can do is hold on; you wrap your arms around his heaving back, and tuck your legs up to your ribs and he squelches in deeper. 

“Hm – yeah – needed that–,”

Heat builds between you: between your neck and his panting breath, between the flushed skin of his chest inches from your sweaty one, between the brush of his course curls against your clit. He’s trying to make you remember every fight you had, every touch you shared, every shallow drop of his heart when you pushed him away again and again – he fucks you like he wants you to synonymize him with the very sensation of heat itself. But you’re unspooling rapidly with every thrust of his hips – more of you leaves as more of him comes in. 

For the first time in weeks, you don’t think about Mags. Or her murder. Or her blue-cold apartment. You don’t think about failure or fear, or your anger that you wield like a weapon. You don’t think of your parents or what the fuck you’re going to do with your life when this mystery is over – when Dieter inevitably tires of you – you can’t think at all. He won’t let you.

He knows you want to recuse yourself, retract and hide, but he won’t let you. 

The unimaginable stretch keeps your mind unfocused, blurred, and just when you think you might stabilize under the sensation, he kisses you. Harshly, softly, any kiss he knows you need to keep you in your body, forced to receive every devastating wave of pleasure he gives you. He palms back your sweaty hair off your forehead, salt clinging to his own curls, and sucks on your earlobe, asking how’re you feeling, my good girl? from between his teeth. 

Your stifled sigh is answer enough. 

“Almost there, love, what do you need, huh? What can I give you?” His words, offered in a voice so lust-strained, you feel the vibrations over your skin. You palm the center of his back, muscles hot and tight, and you answer with the only thing that’s on your mind:

“You.”

Breath suddenly short in his chest, he quickens his pace – shorter, faster thrusts that send you higher, sprinting towards an inevitable, bright end. His grip shifts as he squeezes your hip, that low ache tightening and locking down, the overwhelming sense of Dieter spiraling you apart. 

“Show me you mean it,” he whines, the scruff of his beard rubbing your jaw raw. “Come on this cock for me, baby, show me who you need.” 

You yank on his hair again and with a snarl, he snatches your wrists from around the back of his neck and pins them above your head. 

“Gonna fill you up with e-exactly what you need, gonna fuck you so full of me, your undies are gonna drip white for weeks–,” 

“Mhmn, yesDieterplease, yes, m’yours, y-your –,”

Another release, this one wild and spiraling, tears through you, up your spine, out of your mouth in a wide, silent scream. Your body curls around him, clinging to him as you pulse and seize, your legs twitching. Your hands tingle with a sudden loss of sensation as Dieter squeezes down on your wrists, head tucked into your neck, and with a shuddering, “f-f-fuck,” he follows your release with his own. A rough shove and he breaches your squirming cunt with his warm cum, the feel of it tugging your own smoldering orgasm along a bit further. Basking in the last twitches of your cunt, Dieter lowers his head to your shoulder, his thumbs distractedly rubbing soothing circles around your wrist. You can’t move, can barely breathe with his weight on you, but the pounding of his heart through his chest into yours settles the haze in your brain.

You know now you can’t hide the thunderous machinations of your own heart from him either. 

“Don’t wanna move,” comes the dispassionate grunt at your neck, “but my ass is on fire.” 

A smile then a full body laugh, that makes Dieter lift his head. His own smile strikes you in your heart: adoration, a little sleepy, and relief. He glances over his shoulder at the exposed flames mere feet from his bare ass. 

“S’ what I deserve, fuckin’ in front of an open fireplace.”

“We all must suffer for our art.”

At that he turns back to you, grinning wildly and a tad bit proud. His own ego blown up to excuse his softening cock, Dieter slides out of you and onto his back. Without his chest, the heat from the fireplace collides with your bare, sweat-slick chest and you shiver.

“Cold?” He sits up and tries to catch a loop of the sheer blanket on the back of the couch but you still him with a touch of your hand on his back. The look in his eyes, that dopey ease by which Dieter lives his life, makes your other hand on your stomach tremble.

You don’t want your overthinking to ruin a truly blissful mood, but anxiety chatters at the back of your teeth. Instead of suggesting you both go to his room to shower off, or if he thinks the police might know about the secret passageways, you ask:

“Did you mean it?” 

His face softens, eyes go warm. You should specify which part, but he doesn’t need you to.

“Yeah. I did.” He leans down and kisses you briefly on the mouth, knowing you have more to say and worry over. 

“But–,”

“As cute as your but is, we’re not gonna do that right now. You’re going to get under this blanket with me and we’re going to talk about what you’ve found about the case and then we’re going to solve this mystery together.” Dieter reaches back and finally snags the blanket. With a shuffle, he, sweat-streaked and cum-covered, lays down with the blanket over his shoulder and opens his arms to you as though he’d done it a thousand times. Your face hot and your eyes painfully dry, you curl up into him. 

“Together,” he repeats. “Did you hear that part? That’s important. We’re going to Scooby-Doo this together.”

Silence, where all the wrong things sit heavy on your tongue, your own twisted morality desperate to push him away and run out the door – silence stretches, uncomfortable and tight and –

“I’m proud of you for that pun, and not using it like I’m gonna ‘Scooby-Doo-Screw-You’.”

“Fuck,” Dieter groans and you giggle. “It was right there!” 

His chest is warm as you bury your face into his skin. 

You watched true crime television specials to be prepared for the worst. You listened to podcasts about missing women to avoid making deadly mistakes. You fought and hid-away your whole life to keep yourself safe and protected, but nothing – nothing in the entire world – could have prepared you for falling in love with Dieter Bravo.

His smile is soft and he knows you well enough to know that you’re thinking about something. With a brush of his thumb over your cheek, he asks:

“What?” 

And all you can do is shake your head, the deluge of words and feelings trapped behind your lips and the only noise you can make to keep them inside is a squeak.

You press your forehead into his shoulder and his arms smooth across your back, tugging you closer.

“Nothing. It’s just . . . I feel safe with you.” 

Safe, and happy, and loved.

+

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[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. autumn seemed to arrive suddenly this year. minors dni. nsfw warnings below the cut. 6k. part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: cross continent booty call, shared shower, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, biting, begging, teasing/dirty talk and lots of emotionally immature angst

It became normal after that, routine, almost. Like clockwork, the two of you finding each other. In your apartment, sometimes, but mostly at his. His apartment, his yacht, his gym, his car.  There were days where it felt like it was all you did, Fridays where you would think that you’d spent five whole days underneath him. 

Race weekends felt impossibly long, impossibly far away. You think that his apartment doesn’t feel like him because he’s never there, because he spends all his time on a track or a yacht or the streets of Maranello. 

And you’re soft. You pretend not to be, because you wish you weren’t, but you are. You are, because you know that there is a spring in a national park in the States that looks just like his eyes, all blues and greens and browns that are so saturated they look fake. Because when you were at the club last week with your sister, someone had walked by and you knew they wore the same cologne as him. Because you see the color red and wonder what he’s doing, every single time. 

He’s in Vegas this week, a big fucking party, Miami on the hard stuff. You’re home, going through life’s motions and waiting–though you’d never admit it– for him to come home. 

You wake up in an empty bed, sprawled out in the middle of it, stretching against the white sheets with a groaned yawn.  You can taste the cottonmouth on your tongue, smack your lips a couple times before giving up and climbing out from the cozy comforter and trudging into the bathroom, feet creaking over the hardwoods as you move through the apartment. 

You phone chimes from your nightstand and you move back into the bedroom, leave the water running and the toothbrush in your mouth for your retrieval mission. Sitting at the top of a night’s worth of notifications is a text from him. Check your email. You roll your eyes, half-type out a witty response before an email notification flashes across the top of your screen. [email protected] No Subject. 

You tap it, and inside the subjectless email you find two things. One, an attachment to a plane ticket to Vegas that leaves in… five hours. And two, a single Please?

You roll your eyes, toss your phone down onto the bed and return to the bathroom sink to spit out your toothpaste. He’s fucking lost it. He’s really done it this time, like, Jesus, he’s done it. 

There is nothing you want to do less than pack a bag, find a ride to Nice, and hop on a plane all the way to Vegas just to see him in some messy ass hotel room. 

(Sixteen hours later)

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

He shrugs, kicks off his shoes and pulls his phone and wallet and pass from his pockets, sets them down on a coffee table. “You’re here, aren’t you?” There’s something masked with the smug tone in his voice, some kind of genuine relief that you’re here. It makes your stomach queasy. 

You roll your eyes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words, or the relief you felt at seeing him walk through the heavy door. As sick as it makes you, you miss him when he’s gone in a way you aren’t supposed to; all soft and innocent and young. 

“You’re infuriating,” you say, but you’re smiling. 

He nods, closes the distance between you, sinks down onto the edge of the bed beside you. “You know you love it,” he says, the corners of his lips upturned when he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. Until you’re turning purple in search of oxygen and mourning the fact that you need it, you’re kissing him. 

“Why am I here?” you ask, half breathless. 

“Are you asking me?” He replies, dodging your line of questioning with one of his own. 

You smile, laugh a little under your breath. “Who else am I asking?”

“Yourself,” he shrugs, kisses you softly. His fingers dance along your jaw, move to brush a part of your hair to the side. You let him. Because he’s kind of  cute when he does it.

“No, no,” you sigh, pull your leg up under you. “I’m asking you; Are you okay? Why am I here?” You ask, because, even for the two of you and your decades of knowing the other and the last… almost year of this muddled mess, this is weird. A first class ticket in your email is weird. You getting on the plane is weirder. 

“I can’t miss you?”

Your lips purse. Somewhere in another world, they smile. “Not supposed to,” you kiss him again, hand on shoulders, because you want to smile. 

“There’s a lot we’re not supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fall back onto the bed with a huff. He chuckles. The white ceiling paint stares back at you. Fresh. Crisp. Clean. “No meetings today?”

“They’re done.”

“Ah,” you say. He stands up and the entire bed shifts with the loss of him. His heavy feet move across the echoey room. It’s silent but for the hum of the air conditioner, the tap of the pads of his fingertips against his phone screen on the other side of the room.  “Charles?” You ask, prop yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Hmm?” He hums, his eyes focused on his screen. “Sorry, um. Work… email.” You don’t envy his multitasking skills, but they do put a smile on your face.

“Did you fly me out here to fuck me?”

He scoffs, looks up for just a moment to meet your eyes. “No,” and then he’s back to typing away. 

You sigh, make sure he hears it. You don’t handle not having his attention well, not when it’s just the two of you. “But you’re going to, right?”

You wonder if you can get him flustered enough that he starts to type what he says. He’s been good at wrangling you recently, at reeling you in. But, if you can get under his skin you’ll surely be in trouble with him. Surely. He smiles at the screen. “If you think you can take it.”

When you scoff, his smile grows. You’re playing right into his game. “I’ve taken it every other fucking time, haven’t I?”

“So well.”

You roll your eyes, drop back onto your back. “Why do you say shit like that?”

“I like riling you up,” he quips, and you can hear the smile on his face, the dimples digging into his cheek. God, those dimples, they might just fucking kill you. 

“No!” You say, voice drenched in sarcastic awe.

“Yes!” He matches your tone, his phone clattering down against the table. You sit up again, pull your leg to your chest and rest your chin on it. His eyes are on you now, the email answered, his attention undivided. You love his attention. 

“Alright… can we, like,” you gesture into the vast space between the two of you, “get on with it?”

“Can you, like,” he mocks you, “let me fucking shower?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, bite the inside of your cheek, “Can I come?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Really?” You hate your tone, how childishly innocent it sounds, like your mother just said you could buy whatever toy you wanted at the store. You’d expected a hard shutdown.

“Yeah,” he moves past you, casual smile and strong hand pushing your shoulder, knocking you over like a glass of water onto the bed. “But, I mean it,” he warns, threatens to wag a finger at you. You’d bite it off if he did. 

“Okay,” you say, rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, trailing behind him a few steps. He’s already tugging his shirt over his head and you watch his shoulder blades flex with the movement. You never remember just how broad he is. It’s always a lovely reminder. 

“I’m serious,” he shakes his head. “No sex.”

You hurry forward to catch up to him, pat him solidly on the back as you squeeze between him and the door frame. “Whatever you say,” you hum. His hands make a move for your sides, to pinch the skin there and curl you over, but you dodge him with a loud giggle. 

He says your name and his tone is flat. It’s almost romantic, you think, the plainness of it, the lack of urgency. Rather than face that, you dip your hand past the glass door of the shower, turn the water on and listen to him close the bathroom door somewhere behind you. It’s just the two of you, but he clicks the lock anyways.

You glance over your shoulder at him, hand held out into the stream of water to test the temperature. He comes up behind you, bare chest against your back, arms snaking around your waist, thumbs toying with the waistband of your pants. He works over the buttons with ease, says something about making things even against the skin just above your collarbone. 

With a laugh, you push your ass back against him, bend at the waist and slowly pull off your pants and underwear. A fucking tease, he says, clears his throat and moves around you to lose his own jeans.

The shower is big, but the shower head is small in size, mediocre in water pressure. You know before your leg is all the way in that one of you will be fighting to stay warm. You also know you’ll stoop incredibly low to avoid having to stand shivering in the corner while watching him shower. Biting is not off the table. Neither is a right hook. 

It goes on like that for some time, the haphazard cohabitation of the hotel shower. 

“Would you–” you elbow your between him and the glass door, into the line of hot water. He reaches over your head, switches the flow of water to the wand, picks it up and brings it to his shoulders, the water flowing over the body, over his chest and through the muscles of his core. If you weren’t so fucking cold you’d jump him. “Charles,” you pout. 

He laughs, the kind that requires a step back to stabilize him, and then he’s holding the shower wand inches above the crown of your head, hot water streaming down your face so quick that you have to plug your nose to relish in the heat of it. 

“Thank you,” you say all nasally, voice muffled by the water that falls over your lips. He slots it back into the showerhead and adjusts the water again so you’re not being waterboarded any longer. You wipe your face with both hands, smooth your soaked hair back over your head and look up at him. He kisses you again, promptly, quickly, with childlike haste, just because he can—you suppose. “What was that for?”

He shrugs. You supposed right. 

In your haste, both of you had forgotten to grab the tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles from the vanity counter, and after winning rock, paper, scissors—and Charles demanding best of three like a first-grader—you’d made the treacherous journey back across the ice cold tile to grab the toiletries. You’d used them first as compensation for your hard work, and rather than hand them to him when you’re finished, you reach around to set them on the corner shelf.

He rolls his eyes and you smile, lathering the shampoo into your hair. 

Your head falls back under the water, eyes closed, fingers rinsing the shampoo from your hair. You hear him moving, fighting with the travel-sized shampoo bottle you’d more than almost used up. You wait for the smart comment that never comes. When you squeeze past him, switch so that he can stand under the water, your ass brushes over his leg, over him, hard and erect in a way it wasn’t five minutes earlier. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and you laugh. “What happened to ‘no sex!’” you tease, do your best impression of his voice. 

“This isn’t sex,” he replies all matter-of-factly. It makes your smile grow. “This is showering.”

You shake your head, roll your eyes and reach for the conditioner. “You always shower like this?”

He laughs under the water, shoulders shaking and flexing and making your life so much harder than it needs to be. You could draw maps on his back, trace from freckle to freckle until you run out. “Only when you’re not around.”

You reach out to touch him. If he can kiss you just because, you can draw pictures on his skin just because, especially after he finds the space to say something like that to you, to make you blush from the inside out. He reacts to your touch, to your fingers cutting through the smooth sheen of water that runs over him. It puts a coy smile on your face. “I’m around now, aren’t I?” You leave a kiss on his shoulder blade. 

“You are,” he says, turns to face you, slinks his arms lazily around your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I’m not worried though. You’ll take care of me.”

You bite against your bottom lip, try to contain your smile. He’s right. You know he’s right and he knows it too. “Will I?” you hum. 

He smiles so you don’t have to, moves his lips painfully close to yours, hovering so close you can almost feel the ghost of them. “You will,” he breathes.

You can’t bite your grin any longer. “I will,” you reply, and because distance has never done you two well, you kiss him, pull off his lips with an innocent smile. “As soon as you condition your hair.”

“Fuck conditioner.”

You laugh. “Fuck conditioner?”

“Mmhm,” he hums against your lips. “Fuck it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I still have to rinse my conditioner, though.”

He groans like he’s just noticed your slicked back hair coated in the smooth conditioner, pushes you under the shower head, gives the top of your head a scrunch before letting you finish ringing it out. 

You stumble out ahead of him soon after, feet wet on the cold tile floor of the hotel bathroom. The mirrors are fogged and the air is thick with steam, slowly being sucked away into the ceiling vent fan. You pull a fluffy white towel down from the bar, hastily wrap it around your body, tuck it shut with a knot at your chest. He tells you that you don’t need it while drying his hair with a hand towel and you laugh–tell him there’s not a chance in hell you’re spending the night sleeping in soaked, chilly sheets. 

“You’re not going to do much sleeping,” he remarks, pats your ass over the cotton fabric. You squeal, practically skip forward at the contact of his hand and leave him behind in the bathroom. 

“You tell that to all your girls?” You ask, fingers trailing over the edge of the bed as you move past. “Or just the ones who know you’re a liar?” 

He reappears with a towel tied around his waist, the smaller one he’d used for his hair draped around his neck, damp hair stuck to his forehead and shooting out in every which direction. There’s something horribly beautiful about it. “Mm-mhm,” he clicks, “just you.”

“Oh,” you hum, turning to face him with a quirked brow and quizzical smile.”Well now I feel special.”

He opens his mouth to speak, parting his lips just so slightly before pursing them shut again. “Yeah,” he breathes out, and you barely hear it over the turnover of the air conditioner. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, and somehow it’s quieter. 

You sit down in the armchair perched in the corner and the silence lingers, heavier than the steam and louder than the air conditioner. He stares at you for a beat too long and you feel your heartbeat in your temples, stare right back at his stupid green eyes. He scoffs and walks back into the bathroom. “I’m tired of this,” he says into the mirror, wiping away the fog with a flat palm. 

“Tired of what?” You ask, fear the threat of his answer more than the actual answer itself. You know what he’s tired of; you. This. All of it, he’s tired of it all, and you don’t blame him. It’s become exhausting.

You know what he’s going to say, and still. His words hit you like a sucker punch. “This fucking hotel room shit.”

Your jaw flexes and you nervously chew on the tip of your tongue. “You’re the one who called me.”

He doesn’t leave space for the words to linger. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, turning to lean against the vanity counter, can barely glance at you. Your stare holds strong. “You know that’s not what I meant.” The thing is—you don’t know. You haven’t a clue what he means if it’s not the obvious elephant sitting between you. 

“Say it, then,” you tell him and your voice oozes a confidence you didn’t know you could possess. It’s a facade. A good one, and he still sees right through it. 

“Oh allez, tu es trop intelligent pour être aussi stupide,” Oh, come on, you’re too smart to be this dumb, he says, crosses his arms over his chest like you’ve done something he needs to defend against. 

“Say it, Charles.”

He finds the nerve to smile. You wish a ghost would pull the towel hung over his shoulders tight around his neck. Maybe then he would feel more like you do. Instead, he uses it to dry off the back of his neck and tosses it somewhere out of sight. “You say it.” 

“No,” you mutter, and then louder, you repeat, “No, I’m not going to.”

“You won’t?” He asks, pushes himself off the counter and stops in the doorway, leans against the frame and if he wasn’t so insistent on starting something right now, you’d take a picture before kissing every muscle on his body. 

“Mm-mm.” 

“Fine,” he replies all bluntly, but there’s nothing short about his tone. No, no, you know there’s no chance he’s dropping this. 

“Fine.”

He sighs, eyes closed and heavy breath and head dropping to the sky like he’s begging—or praying— for some sanity or patience or whatever virtue he so badly needs when it comes to dealing with you. Eventually, he speaks to the ceiling, and the dramatic cringe and nose-bridge pinch that precedes his words makes him look more than pained. “I want more than this. I want—” he cuts himself off like he hasn’t already let it all boil over, like there’s any chance he’d keep it unsaid, that he’d be capable of stopping himself. “I want us.”

Your heart dives into your stomach, sends them both sinking through the floor. “You don’t.”

“I do,” he speaks, still to the white ceiling. You follow his sightline. The ceiling is textured. 

“No, you don’t,” you think there’s a chance that your desperation to convince him this isn’t what he wants is really nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to convince yourself of the same thing. “You don’t, because then it’s all going to be fucked.”

Finally, he looks at you, or through you, or near you. Finally, he stops looking at the stupid textured white paint on the ceiling. “But what if it works? If we work?”

We.

“What if it doesn’t? If we try and then everyone gets invested and then it’s all ruined? Our parents and our siblings? We can’t ruin that.” You can’t. You won’t. You refuse to be the one responsible for any tension between your families, between your mothers. They’re the kind of friends that you don’t find more than once, and you wouldn’t dare to mess it all up after all this time, certainly not for a boy—for the boy. 

“So, what?” He asks. There’s a terrible ribbon of torment laced through his voice. “We just ruin each other?”

You sink in your seat, reply to him meekly. He doesn’t usually make you shy.  “Maybe.”

He says your name, that same ill-inducing tone to his voice. “If it was just us. Just me and you and nobody in our families had ever met,” he gestures between the two of you, always talking with his hands even when they’re half-limp and dejected. “Then what would your answer be?”

“I wouldn’t have to answer,” you dodge. Dodge, dodge, dodge. It feels like all you can do. “You wouldn’t want me.” Your words reek of haunting vulnerability, and you hope you’re the only one who picks up on it because it’s game over if he hears it. He’ll know it all; the lie and the truth and the debilitating fear of them both.

“You know that isn’t true,” he scowls, but his voice is soft. You hate it. You do, you hate it so much. You hate it. You’re tired of this conversation. You didn’t spend all those hours three seats over from a colicky  baby and its miserable mother to argue with him about what you were. You just were, can’t that be enough?

You snap like a crunchy autumn leaf under a steel-toed boot. “Fine! Fine. Yes,” you concede to the fictional world, the alternate timeline with death and taxes etc, etc. To the universe where everything is different.  To the world where everything is different, but everything is really just as it is; where the more things change, the more they stay the same. “My answer would be yes, let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and try because why the hell not? It’s not like we got along before all this.”

“Exactly. If we crash and burn, so what? We just go back to hating each other.”

“I can’t. I can’t, Charles. I care about my family too much.”

“You’re just scared. God, you’re like a child,” he speaks without thought, letting the words fly with reckless abandon. If you wanted to argue with him you’d latch onto that line. You don’t, though. You don’t want to argue, you never did. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” your voice cracks. It goes unaddressed by anything more than a shrug. “I don’t.”

“I want you to stop being a fucking coward and go on a date with me!”

“Charles,” you frown. Your nose burns. The gap, the gap, the gap. The impossible to bridge gap that you and he stand on either side of, waving aimlessly, begging the other with a silent plea—please. Please see what I see. I promise it’s better my way. 

“One date,” he says, barely above a whisper, holding up a single finger. It’s his plea. “Nobody has to know we’re doing it.”

“I…” your breath catches in your throat, mind racing through potential responses. You lean forward in your seat, put your elbows on your knees and bury your face in your hands before you start crying. You won’t cry, you can’t. He can’t make you cry. 

You sniffle, even though you aren’t crying—an audible reminder to yourself that you won’t be crying. That you’re eliminating the effects before they can even start. He must think you are crying, though, because the tension in the room deflates with every step he takes across the room. He lowers himself to your level, and you can feel the ghost of his hands lingering in a space just beyond your skin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, fuck. I’m sorry,” his voice is so guilty, his hands finally touching your knees, thumbs moving in smooth, calming circles over your skin. You don’t have an opinion on the way you melt into putty under his touch. 

When you pull your hands away from your face, they fall into your lap, find his and mold into some tangled mess of fingers. You take a deep breath—an attempt to steady yourself before finally speaking again, and with a subtle shake of your head, you’re able to silently explain to him that you’re okay, that his words are not the reason you’re so upset. 

It’s so much more than that, than being a child or a coward of anything else he could possibly throw your way. With just as many words, he searches your eyes for answers, for a why that you couldn’t give him if you tried. 

Everything with him is so unsaid. 

“Okay,” you whisper echoes around the room. “Okay, a date,” you nod. 

His furrow softens, the lines in his face smoothing over and the corners of his lips fighting a smile. “No,” he says softly, as if trying to give you an out, to free you from any perceived obligation. “You don’t have to do that.”

Your hand finds its way to his cheek, a gentle gesture of reassurance, and you lean in, pressing a soft kiss on those lips that want to smile so bad. It’s not about making him happy, though. It’s about letting yourself entertain the idea of satisfaction, of individual happiness. 

He’s so. There’s no getting sick of kissing him, there just isn't. You sigh into his mouth and stand up, and you still want more. You still want more, towels dropping to the cold floor. Your knees bump against the back of the bed and it’s all giggly, and you still haven’t had enough. You maneuver onto the bed without separating, like the world might end if you’re not kissing him, and you’re convinced it might never be enough. That you’ll always crave more. 

It’s all so comfortable, the way you two move around each other. It’s fluid. It’s calm. It’s soft, the look on his face when he’s slotted comfortably between your knees, His fingers trace your skin softly, almost ghostly in the way they graze through the valley of your breasts. You shiver. The goosebumps make you laugh against his lips. 

He takes care of you, kissing you, trailing his lips down to your boobs, taking your nipple in his mouth, moving his tongue in sharp circles. Anything to elicit a reaction—get you all perky and poised for him. He palms your other tit with his big, strong hand, and your hands find a home in his hair, running through the curls, dragging your nails through the short locks at the nape of his neck. 

You pull him up to kiss you and his hand slots comfortably on your jaw, sliding down slowly over your throat, applying a phantom pressure. It’s all bumping noses and sharing breath, him biting his bottom lip before swallowing yours again. He’s afraid to hurt you. It’s so fucking hot.

He moves you around so easily, hands on the back of your knees, pushing your legs against your chest before licking a long stipe through your cunt. You moan louder than intended, because it’s him doing it. Because it’s him doing it. He spreads them next, big strong hands inside your thighs, leaves a soft kiss on your clit. Out of necessity, your hands find something to grab in his own, spread flat over your stomach now, his tongue moving in quick, hard flicks over your clit. It makes you pant–writhe and pant and whine. 

You search for grounding everywhere when his tongue sinks inside you, nose brushing against your clit—your palm your own breasts, white-knuckle the sheets and his shoulders and the sheets again. 

His hands move up your sides and he curls his tongue around your cunt, pulls a pornographic moan from your lips. You write, moving up onto your elbows and he spreads your legs wider, wider, wider. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so good to you. An arm loops under your leg, around your thigh and over your cunt, sliding through your lips and opening you up for him all pretty. His eyes meet yours and he’s so pleased with himself, a genuine smile at the state he’s got you in and then he’s sucking down hard on your clip, pulling off with an audible pop. Your head falls back, your hole body tensing with pleasure when he doesn’t fucking stop sucking and licking and fucking. Your hands are on his again, gripping onto him for dear life, moving wherever he moves. 

Your legs shake, fight against the hand on the inside of your thigh to close around his head, but he’s stronger than you. Fuck, he is. “So pretty,” he tells you, and you shudder, smile hard against the sheets and bury your hands in his hair.

“Right there,” you say through short, heavy pants, and then it’s all out the window. Game over, and you’re coming in his mouth and he still isn’t stopping so you just keep coming—so fucking hard, grinding against his mouth without any sense of rhythm. You think you could live in this high forever.

He kisses you, moves you—god, you’d be a ragdoll if he wanted, you think you really would. He moves you under him, up on your side and kisses down your shoulder, down your arm. He’s so kissy, can’t stay off you. It’s soft and romantic and it doesn’t make you ill at all, honest. 

His words, though, they still want to keep up your little act. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” He asks, moving his dick through your slick, lining himself up to fuck you. 

“Yes, yes,” you mewl, nodding hurriedly. He kisses you, sinks into you somewhere in the middle of it and you gasp into his mouth. 

“Fff…” he trails off, bottoming out into you. “You okay?” he asked. You nod. You nod because you’re so full of him you can’t speak. The gesture is more than enough for him, provides him with the permission he needs to start fucking into you, to brace himself with a hand on either of your hips and thrust deep inside of you, bottoming out each and every time. “Fuck. Fuck, c’mere,” he groans, and then pulls you back against him, your back flush against his chest. 

You crane your neck to kiss him, moan into his mouth when he’s cupping your ass and fucking you. You moan—gasp—and he fucking laughs. “Oh my god,” you whimper. “So good.”

He breathes sharp through his teeth, the bottom of his jaw rutting out with every thrust and then he’s biting your shoulder. He bruises the skin and kisses it better. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and you want, so badly, to make him feel as good as he makes you. 

“Wanna fuck you,” you say. “Let me fuck you.”

He doesn’t need convincing. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay, please.”

You’re half-hearted in your push back against his arm. He’s the reason he pulls out of you and falls back onto his back, makes space for you to straddle him and grind against him and kiss him and kiss him and let him kiss you. 

With a cocky grin and dark green eyes he moves his cock through your slick, lets a smug laugh slip through his lips as he lines up with your hole so you can sink down on him, slow. Slow. Slow because the stretch burns every fucking time. 

“Fuck,” you stumble, “s’big.” 

He meets you halfway, lifts his hips up off the bed to minimize the time he spends not buried inside of you. He smiles all stupid and your stuttered whine. “Fucking took it all the other times,” he breathes out, fingers digging deep into the skin over your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you laugh. He winces, and it only makes you laugh harder, lean down to kiss him so your chests are pressed against each other and grind your hips. His arms wrap around your middle, big and strong and pulling you impossibly close to him and the pace that he sets underneath you. They roam your body, his hands dancing over your sides and your back and knot into your hair, keep roaming until he’s grabbing at your ass. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. You don’t need his words to know that, the sounds of your cunt clenching around him audibly demonstrating just how wet you are with every single thrust. “Always so good for me.” 

It doesn’t take long for you to come again, with the new angle and the new vulnerability. It never takes long with him, like he knows every inch of your body and just how to use it. “Mhm, fuck. Jesus,” you shudder, breath choppy and desperate. He’s relentless through your orgasm, like always, and it just extends it, draws it out painfully long. “I fucking l—ah—” you clench around him, legs shaking on either side of his abs. Your spasms aren’t calmed by even his strong hands, but he keeps them there anyway. 

“I love fucking you, baby,” he says, nibbles on your ear, kisses nowhere in particular and everywhere at once. You’re filled with butterflied by his crude words. 

“Do it, then,” you beg. “Please, fuck, please, Charles.”

In a single, swift movement, he pulls you off him and flips you onto your back. Immediately, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re reaching for his cock, to guide him back to where you want him, to where he belongs. You ache when you’re this close to him, when you’re this close and don’t have him, aren’t full of him. 

His hands find both of yours, interlock your fingers and move them somewhere above your head, pinned against the sheets. “Don’t say my name like that,” he whispers.

You play dumb, but your cheeks are flushed. “Why not?”

“You drive me crazy,” he says, kisses you before you can even attempt to rebuke his claims. 

“Me?” you laugh, fingers dancing over his abs. If his eyes weren’t so fucking green , you’re sure you’d find the reaction to your touch, the flexing of his muscles under the pads of your fingers, to be quite the show. 

He smiles all soft. “You.”

Your hand pulls him to you by the back of his neck, something about you can’t say something like that and not kiss me after, and then you’re licking against his teeth and it’s all so hazy—the way he slides back inside you between gasped breaths, the way you bite down on his bottom lip when he fucks you so well, and the way your legs wrap around his waist when you come, trying to pull him closer, deeper, to feel him with every nerve ending. 

“That’s right,” he says, a rare calming presence through your orgasms. He doesn’t do this often, not with you, at least. “Atta girl,” he laughs. “Make a mess.”

He fucks you through it, he does, but it’s slow and steady until you’re finished, back in reality, and then he’s the messy one—fast, hard, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Fast, fast, faster. It’s fucking blinding. Fuck, it’s good. It’s so good. 

He groans against your shoulders, hips snapping against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, because you’re so fucked at this point that English attempts to escape you. “You’re so fucking close, yes,” you moan, “please, give it to me, baby,” and then he’s coming, head buried in your neck. His body weight is heavy on you, every muscle tensing as you’re fucked full of his cum. 

The two of you are so close, have never been fucking closer, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. “Fuck,” you giggle, and his whole body shakes with his own laughter, moving up to kiss you. You smile through the whole thing, through the hard kiss and the soft pecks that follow, through his fingers brushing the hairs from your forehead and the feeling of him dripping down your leg. Through all of it, you’re both smiling. 

It’s giddy, almost, and God. God, you’re so fucking happy.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #ferrari #cl16

[tatumrileyslover]

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #you Jenna Ortega hoes gonna love this #for the Jenna gals

[andvys]

We'll burn the sky | part fourteen

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, alcohol, heartbreak, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: The hope of things getting better gets crushed too soon.

Word count: 6k+

Author note: In the fic, readers dad sang the song 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles. Also shoutout to @mysticmunson who made an article and a cover for a magazine for this fic!

Series Masterlist

-

It took a lot of convincing for you to join Eddie and the others for their friends' Christmas. While you got along with all of them and became friends with them quickly, you still felt like you would be intervening. They have been friends for years and you had only joined their group recently. None of them accepted a no from you though, the teens were begging you to come and so were Eddie and Robin. You and Steve haven’t talked since Wednesday night and you began to miss him.

Now you are here, surrounded by your new friends at Robin’s place. Her living room smells like the pine from the Christmas tree, freshly baked cookies and a hint of cinnamon and pumpkin spice from all her candles. 

She has a small apartment but it’s cozy, a bunch of movies and books are all over the place, some are on the shelves, others are piling up on the floor. You checked them out the moment you stepped into her apartment, getting excited over all the horror movies she had collected.  

You finally met Jonathan and his friend from college; Argyle, who pulled you into a conversation right away, enthusiastically asking you questions about the tour. You settled beside him on the couch, quickly forgetting about all the heavy thoughts that lingered in your mind.

Steve kept looking at you all evening, eying you with an unsure look in his eyes, he wanted to talk to you but couldn’t bring himself to, he was too nervous. Even though you told him that you were okay and that everything was fine between you, he didn’t believe it and he still doesn’t. The fear that he messed up completely and broke your trust makes him feel so unbelievably angry with himself. 

He was supposed to be your safe place, the one who protects you from all the pain and yet he hurt you. He knows he did. 

“Hey Dingus,” Robin whispers. She nudges his shoulder and offers him a drink. 

He looks at her and then he looks down at the glass in her hand, eying the beverage. “Eggnog?” He asks, already taking the drink from her hand. 

“Yup.” 

“Cool,” he mumbles. Raising the cup to his lips, he looks back at you as he takes the first sip. You are laughing at something Argyle said, the man beside you looking proud at his jokes. 

Robin stares at him. She pities him, knowing that he likes you and that he is beating himself up for what happened two nights ago. You are not mad at him, you told her that and she told him that but he doesn’t believe it. 

“You should talk to her.” 

“How?” 

“Just talk to her the way you always do,” she mumbles.

“Yeah but how do I approach her?”

“Just like always, like ‘hey honey, can we talk?’” Robin says in a deep voice.

Steve scrunches his face up, furrowing his brows. “I do not sound like that,” he mumbles. 

“Yes, you do.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do!” She exclaims with a teasing look on her face. “You always have that smirk on your face too, flick your hair and put your hand on your hip like a mom.”

“What? I– no!”

She laughs at him, drinking her eggnog and looking behind her best friend’s shoulder with a knowing look on her face. 

“What are you smirking at?” He mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

Robin raises her brows and tilts her chin, gesturing to something behind him. Before he can turn around, he hears your voice. 

“Steve?” 

Suddenly, he feels nervous again, in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. He turns around, trying to force a smile on his face when he looks down at you. He almost expects to see something negative in your eyes, disgust, anger, hate but he finds none of those, he only finds softness in them. 

“Can we talk?” You ask with shyness in your voice, something so unusual for you. 

He nods, eyes softening as he watches you sigh in relief. You take his hand and lead him to the quiet corner in Robin’s living room, you both sit on the window nook.

He doesn’t look at you, not yet. Instead, he looks around the room. Max is talking to Jonathan and Nancy. Argyle is now leaning against the kitchen island, joking around with Eddie and Dustin. The others are on the couch and on the floor, seemingly in a heated conversation about holiday movies.

He feels your eyes on him and he finally turns to face you. You eye him with an apologetic look in your eyes. 

What do you have to feel apologetic for? He is the one who messed up, Steve thinks. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, chuckling.

You nod. 

“Why are you so nice, why are you looking at me like that?” He asks. He feels genuinely confused. You should be angry at him, you shouldn’t be so nice, you shouldn’t look at him like that. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad about what happened, Steve.” 

“We– I messed up,” he mumbles, shaking his head a little as he stares at you with a frown on his face. “You– I didn’t even make sure that you were okay with it–”

“I was okay with it.”

“But I still feel bad.”

“You don’t have to, I promise. I just want to go back to the way things were.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You look at Nancy, the girl that told you about the apparent feelings Steve harbored for you. With a nervous glance and an unsure look on your face, you turn back to him. 

Should you ask him? 

He knows it, he knows that you want to ask something. He can tell by the furrowed brows and the curiosity in your eyes. 

“A-Are we okay?” You ask the questions that you didn’t mean to ask. 

His gaze softens and he finally moves to touch your hand, something he wasn’t sure about at first. 

“Of course, we’re okay, honey.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, he keeps his eyes locked with yours, “but what do you really wanna know?” 

Your eyes widen a little, something that makes him chuckle. 

“Come on, ask what you wanna ask, it’s okay, I won’t be–”

“Do you have feelings for me?” You blurt out in a whisper, already blushing. 

His eyes widen, lips parting and his cheeks grow red. “W-What? Who told you that?” 

You grow nervous, your heart is beginning to race in your chest, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to break his heart, he means too much to you. 

“I– no one,” you whisper, looking down at his hand, “I’m just wondering.” 

A small smile tugs on his lips as he watches you, for someone so tough and confident, you look small and shy, right now. You are worried about him and his feelings, that alone would be enough to mend the pain in his heart if it was there. You don’t want to break his heart. 

He whispers your name and you almost sigh in relief when you don’t hear any pain in his voice. He squeezes your hand, urging you to look at him. You do and meet his eyes again. 

“Listen,” he begins, “I would be lying if I said that I don’t feel something for you but it’s not– I’m not in love with you, I’m not gonna be heartbroken when you leave and when this thing between us will come to an end. I mean, I will be fucking sad,” he chuckles as he runs his fingers through his hair, “you and I, we had a really good time, one of the best times of my life, actually. You’ve become one of my best friends and I hope that you won’t forget about me when you leave because I sure as hell will never forget you and our time.” 

You blink, smiling at him, you squeeze his hand the way he did to you. 

“I could never forget you, Steve Harrington.” 

“Never?” 

“Never.” 

You smile at each other, despite what happened and the way you felt the other night, you still feel safe with him. 

“I got used to this,” he smiles, flicking his hand back and forth between the two of you, “having someone to hang out with, I mean other than Robin or the others. You made me realize that I miss having someone, someone to hold and kiss, you know?” 

You nod at his words. You understand it, you feel the same but while he misses having someone in general, you only missed one person and even though you did enjoy the time with him, you still always thought about Eddie. 

“At some point, I convinced myself that I don’t need anyone, that I’m not lucky in that department anyways,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes at himself, “I thought that all I’d ever get is meaningless hookups or just.. heartbreak.” 

You raise your brows, smile turning upside down as you stare at him. He deserves more than that, more than meaningless flings. 

“But then I met you and yeah, we hooked up too but it was also more than that. You showed me that it doesn’t have to be meaningless, that even though we aren’t in a relationship, we can still be something more than just this,” he mumbles, scooting closer to you, he looks down at the rings on your fingers, the ones that he played with when he held your hands, “you never made me feel used. Even when I knew you loved him, you never made me feel like I was a rebound or a thing to play with when you were bored. You never wanted something from me, you were just this sweet girl that wanted to be with me, even if only for a moment.” 

Oh. 

You and him, you are the same in a way. Perhaps this is why you got along so well. 

All your life, you have felt like people wanted or needed something from you. You felt used, still do.

“So uh– I guess what I wanted to say is, thank you,” he smiles, squeezing your hand, “and I’m sorry for what happened that night.” 

You blink, staring into his hazel eyes, you see so much in them. Emotions that you both share. 

Yeah, the night at the trailer was something that left you feeling weird, something that made you feel used and even when it wasn’t what they did, something inside of you was damaged when you let your thoughts get the best of you. Your feelings for either of them haven't changed. You care about Steve and you love Eddie and that is something that will always stay the same. 

Steve mended the pain in your heart after the horrible nights that followed when you found out about Chrissy. He became your friend and something more, there is an energy surrounding the two of you, one that makes you feel safe and comforted. It’s like having a safe haven that you know you can always come back to even after a long long time and you know it will still feel the same. There is nothing romantic about it but it’s nice. 

He is your friend, one that will stay with you forever. You can confidently say that knowing that it’s the truth. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you smile, “you made my life better and you made me happy when I needed it the most.” 

“Come here,” he whispers, opening his arms for you. You smile and lean closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, you hug him and close your eyes. 

“I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.” 

He hugs you even tighter, sighing sadly, “I’m gonna miss you, rockstar.” 

On the other side of the room, Eddie stands there with a drink in his hand and a scowl on his face as he watches you staying in Steve’s embrace for longer than necessary. Letting the man touch your face after tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes light up when he says something to you, you laugh and slap his shoulder playfully. 

Do you look at him like that? Do you smile the same way when he talks to you? Do your eyes light up the same way? 

Eddie swallows, his chest feels burdened with jealousy. He feels ridiculous for feeling this way, maybe even a little hypocritical considering he let Steve touch you in a way that was nowhere near friendly but he can’t help it. Anytime another man gets a little too close to you, he gets both angry and insecure but most of all, jealous. 

“Damn, I never saw you look so angry.” 

Eddie snaps his head towards Lucas, who is happily munching on one of the cookies that Nancy made. 

“I’m not angry,” Eddie mutters, angrily. 

Lucas chuckles, nodding, “sure, whatever you say, Eddie. You are totally not jealous over the fact that Steve is kissing her right now.”

“What?” Eddie almost shrieks as he turns to look at you again, heart dropping to his stomach at his words only to find you gone and Steve joining El and Robin in a conversation. 

Clenching his jaw, he turns back to Lucas, “you little shit,” he says through gritted teeth. Lucas only laughs, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. 

“So you are jealous, huh?” 

Rolling his eyes, he only shrugs, “clearly.” 

“You’re so dense, man,” Lucas sighs. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You are dense!” He exclaims, throwing his arms up. “She is like literally in love with you and you are over here glaring at her–”

“I did not glare at her!”

“Yes, you did! You looked pretty scary right now, scarier than Henry Creel!” 

“Dude!” 

“It’s the truth!” Lucas mumbles, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen, clearly you have messed up somehow, otherwise you wouldn’t look at each other like kicked puppies, all the damn time. You probably made things worse by trying to make them right ‘cause I know that you can be an idiot sometimes, no offense. But you really gotta man up and fix things before you lose her and trust me, you don’t wanna lose her.” 

Eddie blinks. 

How is this 17 year old boy wiser and smarter than him? 

He is right, he doesn’t want to lose you, ever. The thought of living a life without you makes him sick. Even if you never give him a chance again, he still wants you in his life, even if he’ll only get to love you from afar. 

You breathe in the cold air, closing your eyes, you lean back against the concrete wall. The wind is harsh tonight as the snow falls. You wonder if there is a storm brewing, beside the one inside of you. 

You are overstimulated by all the emotions running through you. 

Confusion. Sadness. Insecurities. Anger. Exhaustion. Heartbreak. 

The conversation with Chrissy left you with nothing but confusion, just like Eddie’s and Steve’s actions did. 

The days leading closer to Christmas and to your Dad’s death anniversary leaves you with sadness, too much of it. 

Your many insecurities have always been there but they have never been as intense as they are now. Despite Eddie’s words, Robin’s words or even Chrissy’s words, you can’t help but fear that Eddie doesn’t care about you in the same way you do for him. So far, things have only ever been physical between you two, at least from his side. 

Before Eddie, you had never felt an emotional connection to anyone else, you have never loved anyone romantically, you have never felt all of this for another person. You were scared of these feelings, of falling in love only to end up heartbroken. 

You were scared of falling in love with the wrong person. Though despite everything that happened, Eddie could never be the wrong person, even if he continues to put you through pain, you will never regret loving him. 

He is your person, even if you aren’t his. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

You open your eyes and turn to see Max approaching you, even in the darkness, you can see the concern in her eyes as she looks at you. 

You smile at her and nod your head, “yes, I’m okay.” 

She doesn’t look convinced, raising her brows, she crosses her arms over her chest as she pulls her jacket tighter around her body to shield herself from the cold wind. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you mumble with uncertainty in your voice. 

She takes a moment to think about her words as she looks into your eyes as though she tries to figure you out. 

“Is this too much for you?” She asks, “I mean the whole Christmas party.” 

She doesn’t have to spell it out for you to know what she actually means by her question. 

“No, I actually like it,” you smile, “I’m just not used to it, I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years.” 

Because what was there to celebrate after he died that day? 

“Honestly? I hate Christmas,” Max admits with a sigh and an eye roll, causing you to chuckle. 

“Really?” 

Her eyes widen as she nods, “yeah because even though my mom left my step dad, she still insists on spending holidays with him and Billy.” 

“Billy?” 

“My step brother who is a major asshole.” 

“Oh no,” you mumble with a scowl on your face. 

“Yeah, he is horrible and he always makes sure to make me feel horrible, especially during holidays, so I really just can’t wait for it to be over.” 

“I get it. I feel the same way,” you admit, “but I’m sorry about him, fuck that guy.” 

She chuckles at your words, “yeah, fuck that guy.” 

“What about your dad?” You ask. 

Her eyes light up and a smile appears on her face. “Oh, my dad is amazing, I don’t see him very often but he calls all the time. Lucas and I are going to visit him over the summer, he lives in California.” 

“That sounds nice,” you smile, “I hope you’ll have the best summer before you both go to college.” 

“I’m sure we will,” she smiles, “but back to you, what are you doing tomorrow?” 

“Oh umm.. I think that I will relax in my motel room,” you chuckle. 

You are not looking forward to tomorrow or the day after at all. No matter what you do, no matter how much you try to distract yourself, it doesn’t work, it never works. This day always brings you back to that horrible night.

“Alone?” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna get ready for tour, we’re leaving next week.” 

“You can’t spend Christmas by yourself,” she frowns. 

“I always spend Christmas by myself.” 

“You shouldn’t, that’s sad.” Especially because of your dad, she wants to add but doesn’t. “I’d invite you to spend it with us but I don’t think that you want to meet Billy,” she rolls her eyes, “did Eddie not invite you?” 

No. He didn’t. Eddie didn’t invite you. Steve did but he didn’t. 

Maybe he doesn’t want you around. Christmas is a holiday that you spend with your loved ones, not ones you keep around because you like the way they make you feel, because you like touching them. 

You shake your head. 

“What?” 

“Uh no, he uh– he didn’t invite me,” you mumble as the sadness begins to take hold of you, “which is fine, that’s a day you gotta spend with your family or with people you love. Eddie and I are just friends.” 

She furrows her brows in confusion. She opens her mouth to speak but quickly closes it again. You feel overwhelmed, just like you did minutes before you left the apartment. She could see the way you put on a mask, the way you smiled at Steve and laughed along to his jokes despite the pain in your eyes, you are good at hiding your emotions and so is she, that’s why she could see right through you. 

“It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna go,” you mumble, blinking away the tears that start to well up in your eyes. 

“Do you want me to get Steve, so he can drive you?” She asks even though she already knows that you will say no. You want to be alone. 

“No,” you shake your head, forcing a smile on your face, “it’s just a short walk, I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, thank you for tonight, the party was nice.” 

“You don’t have to thank us, you’re our friend now,” she smiles.

Her words warm your heart a little.

You give her a hug before you leave, telling her to enjoy the rest of the party before you walk away but then you make the abrupt decision to go the other way after Max goes back inside. The thought of being all alone in the quiet room makes you feel sick but going back to the party isn’t an option either. You need some time alone, a good drink and some music. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting at the bar you performed in this Tuesday. Ordering yourself a drink and opting to watch the people around you. 

Your eyes lock with blue ones, the ones that were stuck on you all night ever since you walked inside the hideout.

His hair is blond, a little messy. He has tattoos on his left arm, a dark look on his face and a smirk tugs at his lips when you don’t look away from him. He is attractive. If you weren’t so hung up on a man that probably only wants to fuck you, you would be over there flirting with this stranger already. 

You look away, running your fingers through your hair, you sigh. 

You’re a mess, a complicated mess with too many trust issues and feelings. You keep changing your mind about everything, your thoughts are running wild, making you feel as though you are going crazy. Everything that ever hurt you, keeps repeating itself in your head and you wish that your thoughts would just shut up. 

That the pain could just stop. 

Will it ever stop?

“Hey.” 

You already know who it is before you even turn around to face the man. 

“Hi.”

He smirks at you, eying you up and down before he looks at the seat next to you, “can I sit here?” 

“If you give me your name,” you say with raised brows. 

He licks his lips, chuckling, he holds his hand out to you, “I’m Henry.” 

Oh my god. 

“Henry,” you mumble, a smirk tugging at your lips. You assume that he must be the Henry Creel, the one that everyone kept mentioning, you expected him to look scary but there is not a single thing scary about him, well– maybe the look in his eyes is but you don’t care. 

You give him your name and watch as he takes the seat next to you. 

“I know who you are,” he chuckles, “you’re all over the television.” 

His voice is raspy and he looks deep into your eyes. 

“Yeah, do you want an autograph?” You joke. 

“No, I think I’d rather talk to you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?” 

“Then I’ll leave,” he shrugs, “do you want me to leave?”

You tear your eyes away from him and look down at your drink, sloshing the dark liquid around, you down the rest of it, slamming the glass on the table. You call the bartender over, “can I get another one?” 

The bartender, a middle aged man with the name tag Tom, nods at you, reaching for your glass. 

“Actually make it two,” you request as you look back at Henry whose eyes light up. 

With the way he has been making eyes at you all night, you expected him to be flirting with you but instead you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with the man that your friends have warned you about. 

The only thing creepy about him is his obsession with spiders and zombies but he is probably just a really big fan of horror. He even has a big spider tattoo on his wrist. 

You find out that he lives alone in a big house, he stayed behind after his family left Hawkins but he works as a tattoo artist in a different town. 

The whole time he is talking to you, you nod along and listen. Leaning your elbow against the table, you cup your cheek and stare at him, wondering what gave him such a bad reputation. 

Hours go by and you knock back one drink after the other, letting the alcohol flood your system. You needed this. A distraction. To feel careless and free of your thoughts. Who would’ve thought that a talk with a stranger and a few drinks would make you feel better? 

��You are nice,” you slur, furrowing your brows. 

“Why wouldn’t I be nice?” 

“People say you’re dangerous and scary.” 

He chuckles at your words, “maybe I am dangerous and scary.” 

You shake your head, laughing, “no, I’ve met dangerous people before, you’re not dangerous. You just have that mean look on your face,” you mumble as you point to his eyes, “and your obsession with spiders makes you seem scary but you probably just want to be spiderman– hey, have you ever been to New York? You should go there but don’t have your first kiss there with someone you love or it’ll all go downhill,” you ramble carelessly. 

You don’t see the way he raises his brows in surprise, you are too drunk to notice anything at this point. Getting more and more dizzy and tired. 

“I fell in love with this– this guy who had a girlfriend but I didn’t know about her until she surprised him and then I got all heartbroken and we got into a lot of fights and blah blah,” you roll your eyes, “then I fucked his friend.” 

“Oh,” Henry mumbles, looking surprised. 

“Yeah and he got jealous. He got all pissed at me because I fucked his friend! He had a girlfriend! He had no right to be jealous, right?” 

“Totally not.” 

“But then he wanted to fuck me with his friend, how fucking stupid is that?” 

“Wait what–”

“I hate men, they are so dumb– no offense.” 

“None taken, you’re right.” 

“I know, I’m always right.” 

He chuckles as he looks down at you. 

You run your fingers through your messy hair, trying to sit straight. 

“I think I need another drink–”

“No, I really think you don’t,” he says, pushing the half empty glass away from you, “you’ve had enough. You should go home.” 

You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you turn to look at him, “no, I don’t.” 

“The bar is closing soon.” 

“Oh,” you frown, “well, it was nice to meet you,” you mumble, jumping off the chair, your knees buckle and you almost fall to the ground if it wasn’t for him holding you up, “whoa, you okay?” He chuckles. 

A small laugh leaves your lips, you nod, “yeah, thanks,” you mumble, blinking, you feel yourself getting dizzy, “I think I had too much.” You stumble into his chest, “you smell good, is that Dior?” 

He chuckles again, placing his hands on your waist, he pushes you back a little. 

“Do you need some water–” 

“Hey! Get your hands off of her!” 

You look behind him, to see Eddie walking towards you with an angry and worried look in his eyes. 

“Oh no,” you mumble as a wave of sickness rushes through you, “there is the guy.” 

Eddie can’t believe it. He was sick with worry, searching for you everywhere after finding your motel room dark and empty. Here you are, getting cozy with Henry fucking Creel.

“What the fuck, y/n?” He mutters angrily as he stops in front of you, he reaches for you, pulling you away from Henry, he looks down at you, “I was worried about you!” 

“Why?” You slur, looking up into his dark eyes, “I’m fine, just hanging out with spiderman.”

He scrunches his face up, the smell of whiskey hits him. The red rimmed eyes and your drowsy state makes him even more worried. He cups your cheeks. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, “how much did you have?” 

You slap his hands away, “stop acting like my dad, you’re not my dad. My dad is dead.” 

Eddie frowns at your words. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Eddie–”

“You’re getting drunk with strangers now?” 

“Henry is my friend, he’s gonna give me a tattoo, right Henry?” 

Henry shrugs, “yeah sure.” 

“Or maybe some nipple piercings,” you smirk. 

“What the fuck,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Yeah, what the fuck, Eddie? Did you know that he is a tattoo artist and not some scary serial killer?”

He rolls his eyes at you, taking your hand, he squeezes it softly, “come on, I’ll take you home.”

To his surprise, you don’t protest. He grabs your coat and wraps it around your shoulders before he leads you out. He mutters something under his breath as you step into the darkness. Suddenly, you start giggling causing him to get even more irritated. 

You lean against the wall, almost stumbling to the ground again but Eddie holds your waist tightly. 

“What the fuck is so funny to you?” 

You look at the frown on his face, his eye is twitching and his cheeks are red. He is mad. 

“Get your hands off of her,” you imitate him with a low voice, “are you worried that someone else will use me for my body? I-I mean, that’s all I am to you, a body, right?”

“What?” He scoffs. 

“I’m just a body– a thing to you,” you slur, “that’s what you called me, a pretty little thing, that’s what you called me that one night on the tour bus. And that’s all you ever want me for. You always just wanna touch me and kiss me, otherwise I’m not interesting to you.” 

“What?” Eddie repeats, though he doesn’t sound shocked or angry now, just sad. 

“Can you bring me home– no, wait,” you giggle again, “I don’t have a home.” 

Eddie stares at you with tears in his eyes. Right here, right now, he realizes just how hurt you really are. Despite your laugh and the carefree act you put on, it’s so clear to him that you are in pain and it breaks his heart. 

“I’m a wreck,” you say, running your hand down your face, “man, I’m so annoying.” 

He shakes his head, stepping towards you, he cups your cheeks. Getting angry at himself for making you feel this way about yourself. 

“You’re not a wreck and you are not annoying, Sweetheart and you’re not some thing to me. You’re my girl, my best friend, okay?” 

Your glossy eyes widen at his words. 

“Best friend?” You whisper. 

“Yeah, you are my everything. I’m an idiot, a really big one. I know I made mistakes, too many of them but I can prove you wrong, I can show you that you are more to me than what you think.”

“Please?” You whisper with hope in your eyes. 

“I will prove it to you,” he says softly, leaning down, he presses his lips to your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss, “I won’t touch you unless you tell me to. We can start over, okay?” 

You nod. 

He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. You breathe his scent in, a sense of comfort washing over you. You close your eyes and lay your head on his chest. 

“I can be your home.” 

“Really?” You mumble into his chest as the exhaustion takes over you again. 

“Yes baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, “and please don’t ever hang out with Henry again–”

“Henry is nice.” 

“No, he really isn’t,” Eddie mumbles in annoyance. 

“Yes, he is, he is a sweet boy.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs. 

“Let’s get you to bed, Sweetheart.” 

He brings you back to the motel room, taking your clothes off and replacing them with comfortable ones. He takes your makeup off and brushes your hair while you brush your teeth. Eddie loves taking care of you, it’s something he never told you before but he does. 

Before you, he hated being responsible for others, he didn’t like taking care of other people but it’s different with you. 

He manages to convince you to drink a glass of water, hoping that it will make you feel less bad in the morning but neither that or the advil help you. You wake up with a pounding head.  

Groaning in pain, you open your eyes, feeling thankful for the closed curtains. 

You sit up, burying your face in your hands. You haven’t felt this way in a long time. You don’t drink much, ever. Hangovers are the absolute worst, that’s why you keep it light with the drinks, usually. 

You force yourself out of bed, you read the clock, 12:00 pm.

“Jesus,” you mumble. It’s unusual for you to sleep this long. 

You find a note and a full water bottle, along with some painkillers on the nightstand. 

Please eat something when you wake up and call me.

-Eddie.

You don’t think that you will get anything down right now or today in general. 

You don’t call him right away, opting for a shower instead, hoping that it will wake you up and make you feel better. You grab some fresh clothes before walking into the bathroom. Turning the water on, you start taking your clothes off. You turn to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Frowning at the puffy eyes and the circles beneath them. 

“Wreck,” you mumble to yourself, rolling your eyes, you turn away and step into the shower.

You close your eyes when the warm water touches your skin. You stand there for a couple of minutes before you begin to wash your hair and your body. You don’t think of anything yet, too focused on the headache and your craving for coffee. 

You take your time getting ready. You put lotion on your body, style your hair and put makeup on your face, hoping that it’ll make you look less exhausted. You pick out a warm sweater and some dark jeans.

The weight on your shoulder is heavy but some of it was lifted last night after your conversation with Steve and Eddie. 

I can be your home

We can start over

Start over. Yes, you both can start over. You can start over. Things don’t have to be this way. You don’t have to be broken and insecure. You can be more than that. You can be okay. 

You are surprised by the amount of snow that fell overnight. All the trees and all the streets are covered in snow and it's icy cold outside. 

You were meaning to go to the store but it’s too far away to walk in this cold so you stop by the gas station instead, hoping to get a hot drink and a few snacks here. 

You greet the very bored looking cashier as you walk inside. Last Christmas by Wham is playing on the radio. The only Christmas song you’ll ever tolerate. 

You walk past the drinks and the magazines when something catches your eye. 

The warmth that the store provided you only lasted for a moment. Your blood runs cold and your heart drops to your stomach when your eyes fall on the cover of one of the magazines. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper as you feel yourself getting sick already. 

A picture of your dad is on the cover of one of the magazines. You step closer, ignoring the pounding of your heart. With shaky hands, you reach towards it. Eyes filled with shock as you read the lines on the cover. 

HOLIDAY HEARTBREAK

BELOVED LEGEND DIED OF DRUG OVERDOSE, NOT MEDICAL CONDITION. AN INSIDE SCOOP INTO THE MAN WE THOUGHT WE KNEW. 

“No….” You whisper with tears in your eyes. 

You rush towards the counter with the magazine in your hand, slamming a fifty dollar bill on the counter.

“Hey, that’s too much!” The teen says to you as he looks at you in confusion. 

“Keep the change,” you mumble as you leave the store. Not even caring about the cold anymore, walk towards the bench on the sidewalk. Sitting down, you flip through the pages. 

Breathing heavily, you try to see through the blurry vision in your eyes as you begin to read the article. Your hands are shaking, you feel like throwing up as the bile in your throat rises. 

The Hey Jude singer secretly battled a drug addiction before being found by his daughter on Christmas. Is she following in his footsteps? 

You don’t even feel your heart racing any longer, you don’t feel any anger. 

You read the rest of it, only growing more scared and confused. 

Mentions of your apparent drug addiction only make you feel even sicker. 

“What the fuck..” 

You stare at it for the longest time, not knowing how to actually feel. Tears begin to stream down your face and you have to hold yourself together to keep yourself from sobbing. How do they know? How did this happen? Who talked? Who said all these horrible things about you?

You sniffle, closing the magazine, you get up. 

You never wanted this, you never wanted them to know about what happened to him. 

They waited for this day to publish this stupid magazine. You clench your jaw, looking up into the sky, you close your eyes. The pain and the anger and everything else begins to fade into numbness. 

You don’t even think about what will happen next but you know that the rest of the tour will be hell for you. 

Ever since he died, you have hated this day but now you despise it. 

His name is ruined and so is yours. 

You walk over to the telephone booth, throwing a coin into the phone box, you dial the number, already knowing that you are making a huge mistake. This person never gave you an ounce of comfort in your life and yet, you call her. 

You have never felt so low. 

You hold the receiver tightly in your shaky hand, ignoring the tears that stream down your face. 

“Hello?” 

“Mom?” 

The line goes silent and you are afraid that she hung up the phone. 

“Mom, are you there?” You ask, not even recognizing your own voice anymore. 

She says your name, almost regretfully. 

“Did you see?” You ask as you look down at the magazine. 

“See what, y/n?” 

“The article?” 

“Yes.” 

Her voice is monotone, strict. She doesn’t care, she never did and it hurts you more than ever today. 

“C-Can I see you?” You ask with a shaky voice. 

She sighs and you already know what that means. 

“Listen, I gotta go–”

“Mom, please,” you beg.

The line is silent for another few seconds. Your heart is racing, your bottom lip is trembling as your body is shaking, not from the cold but from the fear. 

“I need you.” 

She doesn’t say anything but she hangs up the phone, leaving you alone once again. 

You close your eyes as you place the receiver back in place, wiping your tears away, you hold the magazine tightly against your chest as you leave the booth. 

How much worse will it get? 

“Y/n?”

You look up, not caring about the tears on your face and the ones that are welling up in your eyes again. Even through your blurry vision, you recognize him. 

“H-Hi,” you mumble, trying to keep yourself from crying. 

He eyes you with concern in his eyes, holding the keys to his truck, he puts them inside of his pocket as he walks towards you. 

“Are you okay, kid?” He asks. 

You blink, trying to come up with words, trying to come up with a lie but you can’t, not right now. 

You shake your head, “no,” you whisper, unable to stop the sob from escaping. 

Wayne sighs deeply, a sad look taking over his features, he steps closer to you.

“Come here, darling,” he says as he opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace. He rubs your back softly, holding you as you cry. 

-

Here’s the article

-

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[saintsugu]

BAD HABITS. KINKTOBER DAY 2

rating: mature; mdni

pairing: rindou haitani x fem!reader

wc: 6k

content warnings: explicit content, bonten timeline rindou, sort of cnc/dubcon, drugs (pcp + laced weed) + a fairly unrealistic depiction of a high (rindou’s side), mentions of violence/murder, degradation, slight slut shaming, choking, oral (f!receiving), slight usage of a safe word/action.

author’s note: reposted fic !

You let out a deep breath as nicotine saturates your senses. It’s a feeling you’ve been familiar with for a while now. Your body feels lighter and your mind is more at ease. You know that it isn’t true peace, but it’s nice to feel it momentarily—even if it’s fake. 

Everyone has their vice, their own little escape from this wretched life that they lead. Drugs, sex, alcohol, whatever it might be. Whether we recognize it or not, we use it, and we abuse it to help ourselves. 

You haven’t really found yours. You’ve found small things that help you calm down and cope a bit, but you haven't found that special depravity. You’ve smoked several times with Sanzu— even dropped acid with him on occasion— but it never appealed to you as much as it did him. Ran’s invited you to go drinking as well, but you aren’t a heavy drinker like him. No matter what it is, nothing gets you off like it does with the other people here. Maybe it’s because you have a bigger chip on your shoulder— or maybe there’s no reason at all. 

The sound of traffic has always helped calm you, though. You figure that it’s because you grew up around it. Since getting high or drunk doesn’t scratch that itch, over the years you’ve found that the best thing you can do is go up to the roof for a smoke. 

“Thought I’d find you up here.” 

“I came up here for peace and quiet,” you don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind you. “It’s no longer peaceful or quiet with someone else up here.”

“Funny.” It’s as if you can hear the way he rolls his eyes when he speaks.Rindou knows exactly why you come up here, so he sees straight through your answer easily. “Why’d you really come up here?”

“Sanzu’s high out of his mind and it’s annoying me.” He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; as if he’s waiting for you to continue. “And I’m sick of all this infighting,” you begrudgingly admit. 

Today, nothing went as planned and everyone’s been blaming each other. Takeomi pissed Rindou off during the mission, so naturally, Ran is pissed at Takeomi. Sanzu somehow believes that Kakucho is at fault, and like usual, Kokonoi has done nothing but fuel the fire with his snide remarks. The worst part about it all, is that you don’t even care. You just want everyone to shut the fuck up— or for better lack of words, you just want some goddamn peace and quiet. 

“There it is.” Finally, you turn your head around, solely to shoot him a glare. “Come back inside with me. I’ll get your mind off things. We can fuck around, it’ll be fun.”

“Wow. Way to sugarcoat things, Rin’.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You hear his quiet chuckle decorating the words, and you swear your lips curl up in amusement at the sound. 

“So what, you have new drugs you want to try?” You raise an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. 

“Correct, but you don’t have to try them with me. Just want you to keep me company, in case I, you know, go into cardiac arrest or something.” A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, despite the joke really not being that funny. You worry about Rindou a lot— all of them, truthfully. Your feet feel heavier than usual as you follow him back down the stairwell. 

Rindou is a lot different when the lights go dark and you’re left to yourselves. He’s a lot less guarded. You figure it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances, with Bonten or his brother, but either way, it makes you feel good that he trusts you enough to be a little vulnerable around you. 

“So, what is Sanzu on for him to be pissing you off so much?” He muses. 

“Shit ton of acid,” you answer, cringing at the memory of the man talking in his circles. He was rambling on and on, yet you couldn’t even understand his words due to the speed at which they left his mouth. You nodded in your head out of pure confusion for nearly 15 minutes before escaping to the roof. “He was about to snort a line before I left, too.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Currently, you’re staying at Bonten’s base. Most everyone has their own place, but sometimes they still stay here regardless. Sometimes it’s safer, and for others, it’s just more convenient. For you, it’s the latter. 

The only current people occupying the building right now are you, Sanzu, and Rindou. Haruchiyo’s access to drugs is more limited when he’s at his own place— due to Mikey’s rules— so he ends up spending more time at the base. And Rindou is only here because his brother’s fling of the week is staying in their shared apartment. You, on the other hand, don’t really have a reason. Just like them, you have your own place and you go back to it sometimes, but it feels so lonely compared to here. 

The elevator stops on the fifth floor, which serves as a lobby and leads to everybody’s rooms. When the doors open, Sanzu is sprawled out on the couch. Little white lines decorate the glass coffee table, as well as a credit card and a few opened pill bottles. Sanzu isn’t going to die from a gun or a blade— you swear  his own addiction is what will kill him in the end; you pray that you won’t be around to see it happen.

“What do you have in store for us today?” You ask as you follow him into his room and he closes the door behind you. 

His room is fairly bland. The walls are coated with the same base of gray that decorates yours as well as every other executive. The room’s layout is similar to your own, but with his bed against the middle of the wall, it feels a little less spacious. Small piles of clothes clutter his wooden floor— taking up whatever space isn’t already covered by his rug. It’s not exactly messy, per say, but it’s not spotless, either. 

It’s probably because you were just outside, but you can’t help but notice how incredibly hot it is in Rindou’s room. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen, so you have no qualms about unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting it hang open. Still, you don’t miss the way lavender eyes flit down to the blue fabric for a moment. 

“Let me find it.” His words are mumbled together as he kneels before the nightstand beside his bed. “I hid it in case that little shit out there came looking for it.”

It’s noisy as he knocks around things in the drawer, not trying to even be remotely gentle as he looks for it. It doesn’t take long for him to shut the drawer and stand up with a small baggie of pills in his hand. 

“Ta-da,” he simply says, sliding onto the bed with you. 

You aren’t as knowledgeable as the two bonten executives when it comes to drugs, so you ask, “What is it?” 

“Angel dust.” There’s a small grin on his face as he opens the bag. “Knabbed it off the shipment from last week.”

“Ah,” you nod, watching as he pulls out three of the little white capsules. “You seem excited.”

“Cause I am,” he chuckles. “I’ve been wanting to try this shit for ages. Do you think three is too much?”

You softly nod your head in agreement. “Maybe a bit,” watching as he drops a pill back into the bag and the leftovers into his mouth. 

There’s a soft smile on his face as he turns his gaze to you. “Now we wait.”

For a while, you were against this—the drugs, but you learned to deal with it, even to participate in it. You’re a fugitive, a truth that came a little too harshly for you. You realized that in the end, it really didn’t matter for people like you. You’re able to gamble with your own life as much as you want because you have no idea the next time you’ll come home from the field. So, people like Sanzu and Rindou will find their freedom in little white pills, while you sit back and watch, silently hoping nothing will go wrong. 

A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up in an alarmed tone. “Oh shit, I got something special for you, too,” he mumbles as he crawls off the bed and returns to his place on the floor. “I almost forgot.”

His search is faster than it was the first time, but as he stands up, you watch him stumble a bit. His hands are quick to grab the edge of his nightstand and you swear that his grip is so tight that he could splinter the wood. 

“Rin, you okay?” You figure the drugs are kicking in, but even so, neither of you know how thiswill affect him. 

“Yeah.” His voice is shaky and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut; more than likely trying to focus on something other than whatever shit he’s currently seeing. “Just give me a moment.”

You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him and chest filling with worry. He takes a deep breath and then returns to his spot on the bed. “‘m okay now.”

While he changes the cart in his wax pen, you settle behind him. You let your hand run up the sides of his arms until they reach his neck. He lets out a low and quiet moan as you dig your fingers into the skin. You continue on and when he drops his head, taking it as an opportunity to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

His voice sounds light as he chuckles, “Shit, you’re good at this.” You feel him shiver as you lick a stripe up his neck and he’s quickly turning his head away. “Stop distracting me or I’ll never get this shit done.”

He returns to the work he was doing and you lean your chin on his shoulder, eyes fixed on his hands and the way they move. He swaps out the carts and throws the old one into the trash can a few feet in front of him. “Here, it’s for you.”

“Ooh, lucky me,” you chuckle, taking the device in your hand and lifting it to your lips. 

You take three large inhales and return to your assault on his neck as you wait for them to take effect. 

In contrast to your usual highs, it only takes about five minutes for it to start to settle in your system. The hits wash over you like a tidal wave. Usually, three would barely be anything for you, but this… “Holy shit, this isn’t regular weed, is it?” 

“It's spiced,” he answers, words sounding tired and a bit slurred. 

Intense wouldn’t even be the right word to describe it. You can feel everything and it’s almost nauseating. Even the low-light of Rindou’s ceiling fan is overwhelming your brain. There’s an odd buzzing from outside in the hall, and it’s far too loud for your liking. God, even your clothes make your skin itch. In an attempt to feel better, you lay back down on the bed. As soon as your back hits the matress, he’s there right next to you, greedy hands pulling you closer to him.

You’ve had highs like this before, but never from a pen or weed in general. You’re too aware of everything going on. Rindou’s hands on your body, his warm breath on your skin, the cool draft coming from the vent in the corner of his room—hell, even the clothes you’re wearing. 

You flinch as his tongue makes contact with your skin and it’s no surprise that you’re also more sensitive. You suck in a deep breath, trying to focus on something in the room to calm yourself down. “You didn’t just bring me up here for drugs, did you, Rin?” You both know the answer to that question and it’s only confirmed when he chuckles into your skin. 

“Maybe not,” he mumbles, not giving you any sort of warning as he sinks his teeth into your tender skin. 

“Fuck,” you swear, eyes snapping shut as soon as you feel it. It feels good, yet it’s nearly overwhelming. For some reason, you think eliminating your sight will help rein yourself in. “Rin, you can’t just do that.” 

He doesn’t respond, simply flashing you a lazy smirk—that you can’t even see— and tonguing over the fresh mark. “Baby,” he slurs out, fingers beginning to dig into your waist. “Want you.” He lays a kiss on the base of your neck. “Need you.” Another on your collarbone. 

It feels so different from every other time you’ve been with him. You’ve been high during sex before, but it’s never been like this. Every touch lights your skin on fire, every word makes your mind cloud with lust. At this point, even if you aren’t voicing it, you’d do anything to fuck him. 

“Then take me.” What’s meant to be a statement, comes out as a quiet moan. 

If someone were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly this started happening. You’ve known Rin for years and it just  of…of…a happened. 

You aren’t able to remember the details, but you can remember the fact that you were both drunk and in desperate need of physical contact. It started off as a mistake, then an outlet for stress, and then somewhere along the lines, it morphed into a habit.

Deft fingers fiddle with the waistband of your slacks, and you can tell that he momentarily forgets about the zipper and button because he lets out a frustrated grunt as he tugs at them. You move to do it yourself, but he quickly realizes his mistakes. 

You lift your hips when you feel him clutch the fabric and he’s quick to tug the clothing as far down your legs as he can. You help him the rest of the way and your pants end up somewhere on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he sits up, movements a bit sluggish from the drugs. A chill is sent down your spine as his hands grip both of your thighs, spreading them a bit and making you involuntarily clench at the feeling. You swear you can see him drooling a bit at the view. 

You try to close them, to push against his hands, but like every other time you’ve tried before, he’s far too strong. 

Today’s mission was especially stressful for the both of you. Unncessary killing took place, and while that wouldn’t normally be a big deal for someone as famous as one of the Haitiani brothess, he knows how you feel about shit like that. You aren’t proud of your ‘line of work’, no one here really is (with the exception of Sanzu, maybe), but he can tell that your moodin particulary gets affected by that. 

When you two got back— even though you weren’t sure when it would be— you knew you should be ready for him to pull you into his room and fuck you into the mattress. 

You made a point of putting on Rindou’s favorite lingerie: a lace and flowery set, a thong with a matching bralette, in a teal color that ‘reminds me of my hair in the old days’. Now, you’re starting to rethink your decision, due to that look in his eyes when he sees them. 

“Shit, Rin, give me…wait.” Words are failing you. Your brain feels very overwhelmed. It’s not that you don’t want this, you just don’t know how well you’re going to be able to handle it. 

He easily keeps them spread, pinning them to the sheets as if to prove some kind of point. “Gotta taste you ‘fore I go insane.”

He’s painfully slow as he licks a stripe against your clothed cunt. Even though he’s out of it, he’s still using his old tricks. 

With your eyes pointed at the ceiling and your stomach tightened out of pure anticipation, you feel the man tap his fingers against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Eyes on me, doll.”

Even his words are setting off something inside of you. It’s as if whatever you took opened up a whole new part of your brain and your body. Now your eyes are staring deep into his as he carefully pulls your panties down. The tips of his fingers drag alongside your hips, the calloused skin tickling your own in a way that makes you almost shiver. 

You can’t tell if it’s from the contact, the anticipation of what he’s planning, or just simply the look in his eyes. With the flimsy material out of the way, he runs his tongue over his upper lip and leans closer. 

It’s easy to feel his hot breath against your bare skin and it drives you crazy. He starts by leaving messy kisses on your inner thighs, sucking multiple bruises as he goes. He’s surprisingly teasing for a man who’s desperate. 

“Rin, fuck,” you swear, breath shaky. “Just do something.”

The first contact his tongue has with your clit, has you quietly moaning, head pushed back a little as you savor the feeling. Sadly, the feeling is short-lived as he quickly pulls away and presses a kiss against your thigh to get your attention. 

He stares up at you through tired eyes, and you swear that you have to hold back a moan at his words. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?”

Once your eyes are trained back on him, he returns to his previous actions. His tongue licks a long stripe in between your folds and then a few kitten licks against your clit. He repeats this a few times and it easily gets you borderline panting—especially with the added effect of the drugs. 

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and he lets out a deep groan as you grip the strands and push him deeper into your pussy. After one last lick, he takes the puffy bud into his mouth, eliciting a heavenly sound from you. He moans in harmony with you, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs. 

He finds it so cute the way you’re fighting the urge to close your eyes— the way you’re trying your best to obey him. After all, it’s the least you can do after shutting him out all day. He was really worried about you, and it’s up to you to make it up to him with those pretty moans of yours. 

You don’t question the way one of his hands leaves your leg, but your eyes shoot open when he pushes two fingers inside of you. 

“R-Rin,” you manage to say, the feeling more intense than it has been in a long time. “I don’t think—”

You whine at the loss of contact as he pulls his lips away to speak, resting his head against your inner thigh. “How do you think you’re gonna be able to take my cock, if you can’t even handle two fingers?”

You don’t even have a response, too focused on the way the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot with ease. He’s sloppier than usual. He doesn’t have those precise and practiced movements that usually have you screaming his name. The drugs are probably responsible for it, but your own drugs are making the experience more than enjoyable. 

“Rin,” you moan out, barely even sure of what you’re about to say. 

“What is it, doll?” His voice sounds tired, yet it maintains that teasing lilt. 

While you struggle to answer what exactly it is, he busies himself by sucking on the fat of your thigh; no doubt littering it with marks. 

“I need more.” You barely choke out the words, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at the man in between your legs. 

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you can barely handle this.” To further get his point across, he abruptly presses hard into your sweet spot. 

You can’t control the loud moan that leaves your lips as your eyes roll back. Your hips jerk against his mouth and you know that you’re almost at your breaking point. 

“Besides, weren’t you just complaining that it was too much?” 

It’s that unparalleled confidence that has always drawn you towards him. Even though he’s probably tripping out of his mind right now, he’s still as cocky as ever. As an executive, you have a lot riding on your shoulders; a lot of responsibility and a lot of choices to make. So it’s nice to have someone take control every now and then, even if it’s just during sex. 

“Please don’t stop.” You can’t even register how loud your cries are, your mind too focused on him to worry about keeping quiet. “Please, Rin, please.”

He can feel the way your thighs shake beside his head and goddamnit, it’s really been way too long since he’s gotten you like this. There’s only been time for quickies before meetings or after missions. He hasn’t had enough time to get you shaking for him in a long time, and fuck, has he missed it. 

“R-Rin,” you whine. “Rin. Want to—shit.”

“What’s that?” He hums, a condescending tone clothed by faux sympathy. “What do you need?”

You sound high out of your mind when you slur the words, “I want to cum on your cock.”

He can feel himself twitch when you speak. On one hand, he wants to make you work harder for it, but on the other hand—the compulsive hand that currently has a lot more control in his decision-making— he wants to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you right now. 

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” The strangled grunt he lets out sounds animalistic as he pulls away from you. 

You whine at the loss of contact, but he successfully shuts you up with his mouth on yours. His hands fumble with his belt as he nips at your lips, too high to worry about how he’s wasting all of your arousal by accidentally getting them on his pants. The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he leans his frame against you. 

You’re too busy entangling your hands in his hair to notice how far along he is in stripping, the only way you can know is when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor. 

“Gonna fuck you real good.” Everything he does and says gets you even more drunk. You’re drunk on his taste, his touch, just him. It might be an exaggeration, but you’ve never wanted to fuck him more than in this moment. 

You whine his name, hands grabbing at his jaw to pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his tip push into you, slowly starting to stretch you out. 

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to even bottom out. 

If it wasn’t for the drugs numbing his senses, he might’ve not been able to handle this. The way you're squeezing him and calling his name, even in this drugged-up state, he’s going to need to get a grip or else he might not last for long. 

You arch your back against the mattress as he finally fills you up to the hilt. Your hands travel down to his back, and he moans when you drag your nails against his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake. 

During the time you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned all of his little tells, and he’s done the same with you. You know what makes him tick, what his breaking point is, and how exactly to get him there. You also know that he has a fixation with pain. 

Neither of you have talked about it; there hasn’t been a need. It was understood that he liked it in a sexual sense, but for a long time, you didn’t know the nature of it. He can be sadistic when he fights and has always gotten a sense of fulfillment when his skin is painted red, but that doesn’t transfer over to the bedroom. When he’s here with you, he wants to be hurt. Whether that be you pulling his hair or digging your nails into him until he bleeds, it drives him crazy. 

His strokes are messy. It’s more of him rutting his hips against yours, rather than fluid motions. Even though it isn’t precise like it usually is, it still feels so damn good. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. 

Your chest is pressed against his, nipples rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your bralette as you push your head into the pillow. “Rin,” you gasp out as his teeth bite down on your neck, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue. When his hand slips down and he messily rubs the pads of his finger against your clit, you cum on the spot. 

He lets out a growl into your neck as you clamp down on his cock, whispering words of how fucking dirty you are. He wants to cum so bad, wants to fill you up to the brim so much that it hurts, but due to the hallucinogens in his system, he needs extra stimulation to get to that point. 

His pace never falters, continuously fucking into your abused cunt. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes. 

“Rindou, s-slow down.” Unfortunately, your cries fall on deaf ears. He’s too focused to listen to the weight of your words. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he grunts. 

It hurts but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also feel good. You don’t know if you physically can take it, but goddamnit, you’ll try your best. You know that no matter how fucked out of his mind he is, he’ll stop if you say the safe word, so you’ll keep that tucked away until the last possible moment.

Tears fall down your cheeks and Rindou has to admit that it has to be one of the prettiest sights he’s seen. There’s part of him that feels bad for this, for pushing you to your limits, but seeing you like this makes him want to tear you apart. He wants to get you to those limits and push you beyond that point. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Acting like you don’t like this… dirty fucking slut.” His words are followed by a loud and almost pornographic moan. “Sucking me in like this, but bitching about how you can’t take it. P-Pick one—fuck.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. It’s more forced and rushed this time, but it still feels euphoric all the same. Now, as he still fails to slow down, you think you might actually pass out. 

You’re sobbing at this point, moaning and whining, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you like an animal in heat— a beast.

“Rindou, please.” You sound pathetic, you know that, but if he keeps going, he’s going to break you. 

“Shut up,” he growls, his hand finding its way to your throat. “You’ve whored yourself out to the rest of Bonten, you can handle this.”

His palm presses against the skin, fingers wrapping against the sides of your neck as he applies minimal pressure. 

“I haven’t, please, Rindou..!” You deny his accusations, desperately shaking your head. 

“Stop lying to me,” he speaks through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. “You’ve slept with my fucking brother, so you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You and Ran fooled around a long time ago, and it was also a while before anything happened between you and Rindou. He knows it was purely sex and it doesn’t bother him that much nowadays, but sometimes, the thought of anyone else getting to see you like this sends him into a feral state. 

His speed picks up and his grip on you tightens. His release is close by, right there on the tips of his fingers, but in chasing it, he’s hurting you. He should feel bad, he partially does, but it feels so blissful that he can’t bring himself to stop. How can he when you’re sucking him in like this?

His palm squeezes your throat in an uncomfortable way, and just like that, your ability to breathe is out the window. It always feels good when he chokes you, but it’s not exactly rare for him to accidentally o a bit overboard.

You lightly tap your fingers against his wrist, three times to signify the ‘safeword’ just as you have every time before, but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes widen in surprise as he keeps applying pressure. At this point he’s pressing you down into the mattress. 

You repeat the action, a bit harder this time. You’re starting to panic but he continues. You trust that Rindou would and will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, but this is alarming. It’s never happened before and you don’t know why it’s happening now. Until it hits you. 

You didn’t calculate the drugs running through him. His senses are numbed, he probably can’t even feel it. You tug on his wrist with both of your hands, but it still doesn’t get through to him. You're losing your strength due to the foggy feeling in your head, and you’re starting to run  out of options. You don’t know what to do. You try and pull his hair, but his only reaction is a muffled moan into your neck. 

You’re scared. You’re tired, weak, and far past overstimulated. Now you can’t even breathe. You want to be done. You’ll suck him off so that he cums, but you can’t do this anymore—

All of those thoughts leave your head as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time and reaches his orgasm. As soon as you feel him start to fill you up, you’re cumming with him. 

“Fuck, baby—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, too lost in pleasure to make coherent statements. 

His grip starts to loosen up after his high peaks and you gasp for air as it does. Your body is still shaking despite the pressure on your throat being gone. You genuinely thought you were about to pass out. That’s…never happened before. Rindou has always been tentative and in tune with your reactions. The only other time you had to use your safeword, he was backing off in an instant. You let out a shaky breath as you try to gather yourself on the comedown from your high. 

When your eyes finally land back on Rindou, he looks scared shitless. Even though he’s exhausted, his energy comes back in the form of panic. He pulls his half-softened dick out as he leans back to look at you. “Oh my god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m so sorry baby, I don’t—I’m sorry I was so rough. Shit,” he curses at himself. 

“Rindou, calm down.” You rub your finger against his cheek and the way he leans into your hand is fucking adorable. “You didn’t mean to, you just didn’t notice when I tapped your wrist.’”

“Fuck,” he groans, laying his head on your chest andturning his cheek to press it against your skin. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Okay isn’t the right word at this moment, but you don’t need him any more panicked or upset than he already is. All that will do is make you more upset in turn. You’ll discuss this again, once you’re both sober. 

“What can I do?” He nuzzles his head into you, laying between your legs. “Would a bath help?”

“Yeah, it would,” you smile at him, running your hand through his lavender hair. 

What started as a hookup and led to a habit, has now turned into something you genuinely couldn’t live without. 

In the end, 

Rindou is your vice. 

tagging: @chaoticmoonave @dilfhos @kkittycries @enchantedforest-network @seraphdreams

#rindou haitani #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou smut #tokyo rev #rindo x reader #tokyo revengers smut #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } rindou

[butdaddyilovehimmm]

t's marvey fic rec list!

These are mostly smut (bdsm / d/s), fluff is in pt. 2 in the reblogs

Still updating!

Long Fics (50k +)

Forget The Rest by eadunne2 (66k)

Chance Meeting Series by SmoothieM (286k) (one of my fav series ever)

Barely Legal by KittyHowell (142k) (cw teacher/hs student but mike's legal)

The Marvey Chronicles by flamyshine (129k)

The Complicated Way by SmoothieM (100k)

Honey Trap by SuzyQSmilesForYou (191k)

Pretty Boy by SmoothieM (120k)

Deal of a Lifetime by SmoothieM (96k) (another fav)

Quarantine Diaries by SmoothieM

Biological d/s AU

Once Upon A Brat by Fessst (62k)

Subspace by poppypickford (69k) (part 1 of a 3 part series, 3rd fic is unfinished and 2nd is v angsty lol)

Bite by paraselenewoman (15k) (unfinished)

Long BDSM Fics

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The Last Thirty Percent by TooSel (110k)

Possession Verse by Xanthe (73k) (one of my personal favs)

Needs Must by thatotherperv (98k) (a classic)

The Day We Met & Submit by BeautifulBestseller (one of my favs too)

Just Ask Series by veritas_st (57k)

No Needles Series by sal_si_puedes (68k)

Fate Gets a Bad Case of the Shanks by Joni_Beloni (84k) (read the tags)

Everything You Want Series by ThatwasJustaHarvey (81k) (pretty heavy but good)

Upside Down and Inside Out by mskatej (37k) (i LOVE this)

The art of coming clean by in_need_of_some_sanity (341k) (unfinished but i honestly really enjoyed it for what it is)

One Shots / Short Fics /PWP

You Can Be The Boss by me (sorry for self promo lol) (11k)

Charlie's Fetish and Bondage Emporium by Joni_Beloni (10k)

And our dreams will break the boundaries of our fear by rospeaks (23k)

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Almost Like You're Asking For It by FoxInSoxes (13k)

Obedience (1k)

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Good Boy by MajaLi (3k)

Sweet Thang by MajaLi (13k)

Happy Stoniversary by Loyalty2WayStreet (6k)

Hush by Sway (4k)

you fire me all the way by Sway (2k)

Calamity of Casual Touches by bewarethesmirk (10k)

Like the Way You Apologize by EclecticRegard (3k)

Strictly Ballroom by sal_si_puedes (3k)

Going Public by LearnedFoot (4k)

Best in the World by mskatej (6k)

That Sweet Spot by mskatej (8k)

Come Again by mskatej (9k)

Five Hotels Series by mskatej (24k) (can u tell i love their writing)

Tied Together With An Easy Thread by androdaixa (15k)

Heat by CC99trialanderrorgirl (1k) (this is dom!mike but it's hot as fuck)

Madison Avenue by Closer (5k)

Office Hours by greenlifejacket (2k)

intrigue and accidents by Bontaque (5k)

Obviously Oblivious by leista (7k)

Blackout 'Verse by CC99trialanderrorgirl (7k)

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Markers by Xazz (4k)

What I Want by silentdescant (2k)

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Streak by LawfulSlab (3k)

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2 Tickets, 2 Lawyers by jazzwriter (3k)

Mr. Specter by L122YTorch (4k)

libidinous, adj. by eadunne2 (19k)

Desk Job Series by JaneDavitt (8k)

Like Stars by babykid528 (1k)

A Night to Remember by tinygiantsam (8k)

9pm in the Records Room by revvvv (2k)

Exclusively Yours Verse by tattooedsiren

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Answer in the Form of a Question by blackstar777 (20k)

All Fifty by butdaddyilovehim (okkk more self promo)

Harvey Specter, Fashion Icon by TooSel (7k)

Soulmates AU

Imprimatur by Closer (22k)

many times, many ways by spqr (15k)

A/B/O

Appetite by Skara_Brae (18k)

The Ultimate Challenge by sal_si_puedes (18k)

truth is only hearsay by Miyai (13k)

Imperfect Perfection by Skara_Brae (15k)

Machinations by astralfox (4k)

The Art of Running into You by SmoothieM (37k)

(i'm not really into abo but i liked these)

Vacay Fics (aka bed sharing teritory!)

Just the Right Amount of Wrong by blackstar777 (6k)

It's an Inconvenience by killym (16k)

The Trip by mskatej (9k)

Reservations by khasael (13k)

One Night In Paradise by Vearth (8k)

libidinous, adj. by eadunne2 (19k)

the long way around by TooSel (15k) (no smut but so incredibly cute omg)

Vacation in Vermont by Joni_Beloni (21k) (cw for cheating but technically not really?)

What Happens in Vegas by LearnedFoot (7k)

Secret Identity

Nerd Love Series (11k)

5U175 by Closer (26k) (a classic and one of my absolute favs it's so good)

Chocolate by writingtoreachyou (33k)

#suits #marvey #harvey x mike #mike x harvey #d/s #fic rec #ao3 #suits usa #good boy colorized 2023

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 ⎹ 𝓓.𝓖. & 𝓙.𝓣.

fandom dc / neon moon au masterlist / @dollsdc-library

featuring vampire!jason todd x human!reader ( f! ) x vampire!dick grayson

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning this is a dark fic, do not read if nonconsensual content triggers you! blood kink ( there’s so much blood lol ), fear kink, choking, nonconsensual feeding ( at first ), dacryphilia, glamoring/mind control kink, dubcon smut, fingering, threesome, spit kink, dp ( vaginal + anal ), overstimulation, ahegao, creampie, and cum marking

summary who knew a knock on your door could turn your life so upside down?

word count 6k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

thanks so much @sinisterlysiv for the commission! ❤️

commission info & contact

the banging on your front door startles you awake.

with a strangled yelp, you sit up straight, and stare through your open bedroom door into the darkness of the hallway. listening. another furious beating of fists against your door. at first, you thought it might be the cops, the pattern similar for a moment, before you realize it’s a pair of fists— two at once, pounding against the barrier; a desperate plea.

growing up in Gotham should’ve made you more suspicious of middle of the night visitors so desperate for you to open the door that they’re trying to batter it down, but you couldn’t help but wonder: what if it was someone who needed help? what if someone innocent was on the other side of that door, being chased by one of the city’s many threats and you didn’t answer it? could you live with the guilt if you opened the door tomorrow morning to find a body on the step?

you frown, concerned, and pull yourself out of bed. the pounding was ceaseless as you escape the dim bedroom in a flurry, your sleepy apparel, an oversized Gotham Academy tee, belonged to an ex boyfriend from high school, but it had always fit you like a dress, and fluttered about your thighs as you hurry through the hall. only when you’ve flicked the switch at the end of the hall, the small living room flooding with light, that you hear the voice on the other side of the door. calling your name.

“I—I need your help, please… Open up…”

“Jason?” you whispered under your breath, practically ripping the chain lock. it swings wildly against the door as you flip the deadlock and wrench the door open. “Jason—“ your heart practically stops at the sight before you. bloodied fist prints painted the other side of the door, and your friend was covered in it. you could smell it before anything else, thick and metallic in the air, and you nearly want to gag, but you haven’t the time to react before Jason is collapsing— crumbling towards the floor like a house of cards in a thunderstorm. “Jay!” you cry out, scrambling to catch him, wrapping both arms around his midsection. “Jay? What happened? Are you okay?” you demanded, trying to pull him into the apartment. you can feel just how soaked with blood he is; his dark shirt saturated; it’s in his hair, drying on his face, and he’s leaving bloody boot prints on the floor as his legs go slack and his feet drag against it. he’s so heavy, much heavier than he looks. you’re unable to haul him in by yourself, and you huff, “Jay, can you walk? Can you come inside? Help me, please! You’re too… too heavy…”

somehow, he finds the strength, his sticky hands finding your shoulders and his boots pushing into the floor to assist in propelling him into the room. with a yelp, you stumble back. you’ve no choice but to slide to the floor when his muscles give out again, trying to soften his fall by guiding him towards the couch, his back hits the edge and he lets out a weak grunt.

“Oh, my God.” you exhale, sitting back on your knees. simply getting him inside had you panting, but now that you were sitting in front of him in the light, you could see why. he was hardly sitting up, his head lolling against the side of the couch, eyes rolling back in his skull with his bloody lips parted, jaw slack. “Hey, hey, Jay,” you mumble, grabbing his face with both palms. you could feel the blood like drying glue sticking to your hands, but you tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach and shake him back to consciousness, “wake up. Come on, look at me, open your eyes and look at me!” he groans, lids flittering, and you can tell he’s trying. finally, his clear eyes try to focus on you, but they seem different than the last time you’d seen them. or maybe you were simply remembering them wrong; you hadn’t seen Jason in five years, perhaps you’d simply forgotten that they were so translucent that they seemed to glow… then again, when have you ever seen anyone’s eyes glowing like this? “Talk to me,” you plead, pushing his damp, dark tendrils back from his face, “how can I help?”

“Thirsty.” he croaked, and you thought maybe he was looking past you, over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m thirsty.”

“Where are you hurt, what happ—“

“Thirsty!” Jason barked, effectively starting your heart like a furious engine. he’d never yelled at you before. one, blood slicked hand reaches for you.

you nod, taking it and carefully setting it down. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back. Just… try not to move too much, okay?” you get to your feet, hurrying towards the kitchen, and you don’t notice the way his fist clenches at his side. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you hurry to the faucet and fill it, trying not to watch the water ripple from your shaking hand. the blood smeared against the glass as you gripped it, so instead, you avert your gaze back towards the living room. you can only see his legs, splayed out. please be okay, you prayed silently, please be okay.

finally, when the water reaches the brim of the glass, you turn it off and spin on your heels, about to sprint from the kitchen when you catch your reflection in the refrigerator. the silver heavily distorts your countenance, but you can still see the crimson blurs, massive and ugly splotches of blood from your shoulders to your bare knees. you pause, staring into the reflection in horror, but looking down at yourself. it wasn’t any less shocking than in the reflection, seeing your night shirt streaked in what you suspected to be your friend’s blood. but you couldn’t linger there, you couldn’t fall apart because he still needed your help.

“Okay, here we go.” you whisper, hoping to soothe him as you kneel by his side again, one hand coming up to cradle the nape of his neck and urge him to sit up as you bring the glass to his lips. “Drink. It’s okay.” you feel a soft tickle of relief brought about when you watch him take in water, lips smearing ruby over the rim of the glass. he took a large gulp into his mouth, and you wanted to exhale. that was, until he choked on it. “Easy!” you pull him up straighter, concerned.

but Jason was gagging, sputtering and spitting water all over the floor as he floundered. with a powerful swat, he knocks the glass from your hand and it explodes when it makes contact with the floor, shattering by your knees. you jump, recoiling from him as he pulls himself to his knees and doubles over. both palms smack against the wooden panels of the floor as he coughs water up on to it. you stare in horror, unsure of how to help.

“J— Jay…” you mutter, watching him close, and inch closer, “where are you hurt? Can you show me?” he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t pull away when you peel his soaking shirt upwards, examining his back for any injuries. with your fingertips, you prod carefully at his skin. it’s freezing, so cold that you’re in shock that he’s even still alive, but you can’t seem to find a single break in his skin, not a single bullet wound or gash from a blade. your hand careens his waist, feeling on his stomach until your fingertips brush a patch of rough flesh, and he flinches. one of his fists flees to grasp your wrist as he falls back on to his butt and inches backwards.

“No.” he grimaces, shaking his head, but his grip tightens around your wrist, so you scoot closer, wincing.

“I need to see,” you reply, looking up at him, “I need to know how bad it is.” but it’s almost as if Jason is looking through you, as if his vision is unfocused, his eyeline streamlined to your neck instead of your countenance. his hand is vice tight and squeezing so hard you fear your wrist might snap, and he’s drawing you closer, just staring. “Jason…” you gulp back a whimper, eyes widening, “that hurts…”

and then, strangely enough, it’s as if he snaps out of a trance. his fingers uncurl from around your wrist and he lays back, averting his eyes. you take a moment to rub the soreness out of your wrist with your other hand before you look back at him, seemingly docile for now, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, leaning closer. this time, both of your hands reach out for him, holding on to the hem of his shirt and gently push it upwards over his abdomen. what you see there sends your mind reeling.

a hideous Y incision from his abdomen up to the start of his neck.

an autopsy scar.

only, somethings wrong. the wound has already healed; the pale scar tissue is much too rough to be fresh, even. so, this scar had to be a few years old, at least. you stare, equal parts perplexed and horrified, sitting back on your buttocks with one, blood stained hand clasping over your mouth. you feel like crying, or screaming, or vomiting. maybe all three.

just, what the hell had happened to Jason since you’d last seen him?

“Of all the places for you to hide, you picked the most obvious.” a familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, pulling you back to the gruesome reality before you, and your head snaps up to see the figure leaned against the door jamb. “You really are desperate, aren’t you, J?” you didn’t have time to try and decipher what he meant. you didn’t care to.

“Dick?” you ask, hopefulness returning. Jason’s adoptive older brother had his arms crossed over his broad chest, but his pitiful gaze was almost a mockery of sympathy. “W— what’s wrong with him?” you asked, looking back to Jason, who was groaning as he lays back against the floor.

Dick quirks a brow, watching Jason writhe. “He’s dying.” he replied, jarringly flippant.

“What?” you snap, voice breaking over the realization that he must be right. Jason was freezing, he couldn’t keep anything down, and he could hardly hold the weight of his own body up. “No…” you sit up on your knees, reaching out to pet his icy forehead, but he turns away from you with an incoherent moan. you look back to Dick, biting down on your lip, “there’s nothing we can do?”

“Well, there is something.” Dick purrs, shifting his weight as he stands up straighter, willowy digits curling around the door frame. he glares into the doorway, staring you down like a lion stalking a very clueless gazelle. “I can help him.”

“Really?”

Dick nods, “Of course. Do you want my help?”

“Y—“ you gasp, peering down at Jason. he’s grabbed your nightshirt with both hands. “Jay?”

“Don’t…” his voice is hardly audible, and you have to hunch forward, getting as close to his lips as possible.

“What?”

Dick’s jaw tightened, gripping the doorframe tighter, he calls your name in a chilling, singsong voice. “You’re wasting time. And my brother is dying in your arms. Say it.” he urged, crystalline gems sparkling.

you frown, confused, looking from Jason to Dick and back again. you wished Jason was strong enough to finish his thought, but he couldn’t even keep his eyes from rolling back behind his lids. “Yes,” you said, finally, looking up at Dick with wet eyes, “please come help him.”

a low and wicked rumbling vibrates within Dick’s throat as he quirks a brow, and his fingers dig deeper into the frame, splintering wood from the sheer force. he then swaggers inside with a pleased sigh. “What a good girl you are.” he crooned, traipsing closer; his lips were stretched into a demonic grin, “Very, very stupid, but a good girl nonetheless.”

you blink, confused, watching his legs— they’re eye level to you as he encircles you. “What are you—“

“No wonder baby brother likes you so much,” reaching forward, his fist wraps around your neck, pulling you to your feet with a strangled choke. you stumble backwards, both hands coming up to claw at his wrist when he yanks you back against his solid chest, “he wouldn’t feed with me because he was holding out. Saving himself for his pretty, little high school crush.”

feed? you squirm, grunting as you try to wiggle free of his grip, but he’s so much stronger than you, escape is impossible. “Let go!”

Dick chuckles, lips caressing your jaw as he speaks, “I won’t lie, Jay, I’m surprised you were able to resist this one. I bet you can hear her heart from all the way over there, can’t you?” his fingers dig into your vulnerable flesh, squeezing your windpipe until you gag, and he plants a soft kiss against your cheek, “Listen to how fast it’s thumping!” he exclaims, giddy, “Like a little drum.” pressing his cheek to smush against yours, he coos out a taunt, “Are you scared when I squeeze your fragile neck?”

you nod, gulping swallows of air that burn against your windpipe when they’re caught by his fist.

“Leave her… out of this…” it’s Jason who speaks, now, struggling to push himself off the floor. he slipslides in blood and water puddles around him. “Leave her alone.”

“Jason, he—“ you start to call for him, but Dick’s other hand clamps tight over your mouth, and he shushes you.

“Shh,” he hisses against your face, before he looks to his adoptive brother, “leave her out of it? Oh, no, Jason, you’re the one that involved her. The second you showed up at her doorstep.” you can feel one forefinger drag against your throat, the pad surprisingly soft and chilly over your pulse point. “You didn’t come here just to starve to death on her living room floor, did you? You were going to fuck her, feed off her, hell, maybe even turn her, weren’t you?”

feed off you?

turn you?

your eyes widen, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. but they’re shaping into a realization that you didn’t think was possible. you stare at your friend, who’d gotten to his knees, now, but that’s where he stayed— slouching on his knees in front of your trembling legs. his eyes glide over your bare skin, stained with blood that didn’t belong to you. you knew now it didn’t belong to him, either. they linger there, on your thighs, his eyes glowing dim like before.

“Yeah.” was all Jason says in return.

your whole world feels as if it’s been flipped on its head.

Dick’s laughing with wicked amusement, holding his palm tight to your mouth to muffle your squealing, “You won’t take any of my playthings because you want your own, is that it?” another kiss to your cheek and Dick’s hand slides from your mouth down over your body, menacing and slow.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you cry out; it’s the first thought to reach your lips as you squirm and push against him.

“I’m not going to kill you, silly girl. At least, not yet.”

“Dick.” Jason warns, baring unusually sharpened teeth. fangs.

his brother groped at you as his hand travels south, before he gathers the night shirt in his fist and pulls it up, exposing your quivering thighs and cotton panties. your legs snap together, and you whimper, humiliated. “Go ahead, Jay,” he urges, “bite her.”

Jason stares at the exposed flesh, clean and soft, and you could practically see his mouth watering as he inches closer. “N—no…” you whine, kicking at him. you feel a bare foot connect with his chest, but it doesn’t do anything to hold him back.

“Uh uh,” Dick mumbled, giving your beck a squeeze, “you kick again and I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.” you freeze, croaking out a weak whine of submission. “Good girl. You wanted me to help Jason, didn’t you?”

with tears welling up in your eyes, you nod as best you can, and his grip on your neck loosens, just enough for you to be able to breathe again.

“Then, stand still and let him have you.”

meanwhile, Jason has grabbed hold of your legs and pried them apart, pressing his knees between your feet to keep them spread open so he can force his way between them, nuzzling his face into your thigh.

“Jason, please…” you choke out, shuddering when his frozen lips press to the warmth of your thigh. you can already feel the sharp edge of his fangs dragging along the supple flesh, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it, and a pathetically helpless yelp erupts from your lips when they sink in, with absolutely no resistance from your silken skin. you want to scream and kick, do anything you can to get him off of you, but you know Dick will make good on his promise to kill you, so you sob softly, watching through bleary eyes as your childhood friend starts to pull blood from you up to the surface of the pin prick wounds. it bubbles up in thick globs to soak his lips, and the sound of his slurping makes your head spin. “Jay…”

“I’m getting a bit jealous here, baby doll,” Dick croons, releasing your throat in exchange for a tight fist at the crown of your head, tilting it to one side to expose your sore throat to him, “watching how much he’s savoring the taste of your blood, hearing you moan for him like the perfect, little pet. Makes me want a taste, myself…”

“N—no, please, don’t…” it was hard to keep still with the tip of Jason’s nose bumping against your panties as he moaned, gurgling and dribbling your blood over his chin and on to little droplets on the floor. as much as you don’t want it to, the pain feels almost euphoric, and your body juts forward to stimulate your swelling clit against his nose bridge.

you’d hoped neither have noticed, but both seem to react. Jason grunting as he pushes his face flush against the damp patch in your panties, latching on to a fresh locale to drink from, breaking new skin, both hands come up to dig his cruel fingers into your bloody thighs.

“Don’t?” Dick repeats, mocking, as he lets go of your shirt to push his hand under the waistband of your panties instead. you cry out in surprise, two svelte fingers rubbing your slit, teasing your slick. “You’re fucking soaking,” he teases, his fangs nicking your throat, just enough to draw a single drop of blood to the surface, which he swipes away with his tongue, “you don’t need to be ashamed that you like it, a good bloodslut always does.” savoring the taste of your blood on his tongue, he groans, hooking his fingers into you like an anchor, before he bites down, fangs gliding as easily as they may softened butter.

the tears have broken the barrier of your ducts and streak your cheeks, one hand holding on to his wrist when he starts to pump his fingers deep inside, and the other trying to push Jason’s head from between your legs. the only problem is that Jason had already taken so much of your blood that you felt woozy, and your strength was all but diminished, so you can do little to fight the supernatural monsters off. with the two of them pulling from you, you can’t help but sag back against Dick’s chest, whimpering in forced submission. warm, liquid rubies dribble down over your clavicle and soak into the neckline of your nightshirt, and you can hear him moaning and slurping in your ear.

you moan, unable to hold it back, when his digit tips curl to brush against your sweet spot. it’s getting harder and harder to try and ignore how good his skilled fingers feel, spreading you open, prodding deep. your knees feel like jelly; you know you’ll collapse when you cum.

Jason has pulled away, panting and lapping at the blood on his lips, but his hands have found the waistband of your ruined panties, and are working them down your thighs, his practically snarling with desire when you’re exposed; Dick’s fingers refuse to stop, even when your back arches. the younger of the two finds his strength, and pulls himself to his feet, ripping at his clothes until he’s completely bare in front of you, face drenched in your blood, muscles rippling and cock throbbing and hard. the visage is horrifying and beautiful, as are his gleaming eyes when he grabs your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, sticky kiss. you whimper, trying to turn away— all you can taste is blood. your blood. Jason calls your name, thick with lust, and pulls your face back towards him. “Look at me.” he sounds desperate again, but there’s an edge in his voice; an authoritative tear. you obey, wet eyelashes sticking together when your gaze flickers up towards him, and instantaneously, you’re trapped in his stare, mesmerized. “Kiss me.” he demands, and you’re too compelled to submit that your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

what did he do to you?

all you want is to obey, to please him.

leaning forward, you kiss at his lips, slurping on the blood and smearing it over your own face. Jason seems pleased enough, hands pulling at your nightshirt to rip it apart until it hangs in pitiful shreds at your sides, and his palms envelop your breasts. he kneads, roughly, before his head dips, tongue hanging out from his mouth to catch a stream of blood leaking from the seal of Dick’s lips on the wound on your neck. “You’re so fucking sweet. Just like sugar.”

“Sweeter than sugar.” Dick chimes in, clearly having had his fill of your blood, too, he presses bloody kisses over the wound, “And I’d bet it’s not just her blood. Little whore is about to cum, I can feel her cunt squeezing my fingers.” as if to prove his point, those wicked fingers stuffed inside of your cunt jackhammer against you until you feel as if you’re about to explode.

you mewl, dazed, and pull back to rest the crown of your head against Dick’s clavicle. coming undone has never felt as intense as it does right now, with Jason watching Dick finger fuck you so mercilessly that your body convulses against the rough treatment. you close your eyes tight, breath coming in furious, little puffs, toes curling. you whine in ecstasy, hips rocking until the orgasm takes hold of you and renders you completely incapacitated. your nails dig into Dick’s wrist, but even as you claw at him, he doesn’t even budge. “Look at her go!” he chortles, “That was a big one, wasn’t it?” nuzzling his nose against your ear he kisses along your lobe, and you shiver, nodding with your eyes still closed. “Hope we didn’t break you already,” he mutters, pulling his sticky fingers free, giving your sensitive core a couple of cruel spanks with his palm. you jerk under each one, unable to catch your breath to make any substantial noise except for pathetic wheezing.

your lids weigh a thousand pounds at least, making it damn near impossible to open them, until you feel Jason lifting your legs, your feet rising from the floor. “She’s not broken yet,” Jason says, hooking your limp legs over his hips as he pulls you to his chest. Dick allows it, releasing you into his brother’s arms, and you fall forward against him. “Just a little bit cumdrunk, a little bit drained.” his strong hands then careen to support your ass as he spreads you open, suspended in his arms, to spear your folds with the head of his cock. you both moan in unison, his much stronger. your hands push against his shoulders, much too sensitive to take his entirety, but he isn’t giving you a choice as he thrusts upwards and pushes your body down simultaneously, filling you hilt-deep with one buck of his hips. “Fuck,” he growls, baring his blood-stained fangs, “she’s already clenching like crazy.” you can feel it, too, the way your walls spasm against the girthy intruder, refusing to open up any more than he’s willing to force you to.

“Sounds like you need to stretch her out,” Dick was saying, and even in your dazed state, you could practically hear the grin on his face, “unless, you’d rather I do it for you.” he offers, “I’ll ruin her, break in that tight, little pussy so you can just slide right in.”

“Fuck you,” Jason barks, pushing your body upwards so that he nearly slips from your body and then bringing you down on to him harder than before, as if he were making a point to his older brother; he was perfectly capable of snapping you in two if he so desired. “I’ll break her myself.”

“Jay… son…” you moaned, his name broken into weak syllables as you bounce, helplessly impaled on his cock. you couldn’t think of anything but how intense the sensation of his brutal fucking was. he practically slammed you down to his base each time he rutted, and the position does absolutely nothing to keep his thick tip from kissing your cervix.

your climax comes in a matter of moments, much quicker than the first and much more intense. your arms fall, limp, and dangle at your sides; you can do nothing but slump forward, squeal into his chest, and enjoy the feeling of being completely and utterly decimated.

“The little thing has already gone completely dumb on your cock.” Dick snickers, pressing himself to your back. you feel nothing but icy skin and realize that he’s stripped himself down, too. you bite down on your lip to muffle a moan of anticipation. “Absolutely fucking pathetic.”

would they take you together?

you hated how badly you wanted to feel them both inside of you.

Dick grabs you by the hair again, pulling your head back like a rag doll, and out of the corner of your teary eyes, you can see his bloody, evil grin. “Open up, baby doll.” you do, your jaw hanging slack, and he shoves three fingers into your mouth. you wince at first, especially when he forces them to the back of your throat, and you gargle out a tiny sound of discomfort. drool covers his fingers and dribbles out from both corners of your mouth. “Attagirl, go ahead and be a sloppy, little slut, because you’re going to want to give me plenty of lube to fuck that little asshole.” wrenching his hand free, you spit more on to his fingers and his palm when presented with it, before he drops it to envelop his cock, slathering it in your saliva and giving it a couple of furious pumps.

when he guides the tip of his manhood to your ring, you lurch forward with a nervous whine, but free hand flees to grip your shoulder, twisting you back and pulling you back towards him. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?” he teases. even Jason has slowed to a slow, shallow thrust to let his elder join in. Dick smears you with his tip before he worms his way inside, grunting with impish delight when you groan. “That’s a tight fit, isn’t it, baby doll?” he sneers against your cheek, tongue sliding out to flick at your drying tears on the apple of your cheek. once he’s snugly inside, his other hand grips one of your arms at the elbow, keeping a tight grip on the opposite shoulder, and falls into a ruthless rhythm in seconds. you nod, squinting, back arching now that you’re sandwiched between them, your moans turning more shrill and hoarse with each thrust. “You’re going to have to get used to it, because I’m going to fuck your ass every single day just to hear these pretty, little screams.”

Jason has started pounding against you, too, moaning under his breath as his head dips so he can litter your jiggling breasts with bites. you were much too overstimulated to know what you were even screaming for anymore. was it how good he felt, his protruding veins rubbing against your sensitive inner walls, or was it because of his fangs cutting into your skin, leaving a peppering of stinging, paired pricks. or maybe it was Dick, who was slamming into you from behind with so much ferocity that you were certain your body couldn’t take it— you were going to simply break in half of the brothers kept up this rough treatment.

even still, you felt a familiar bubbling in your belly. you couldn’t believe it. you were going to cum again.

Jason is the first to notice, both hands sliding up to dig his fingers into your hips until he leaves paling imprints in your flesh, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses in pleasure, “keep tightening up for me, baby, gonna make me cum in this little, fucking vice of a pussy—!”

“I—I can’t!” you beg; surely the next orgasm would shatter you, and your poor, hazy mind would fracture, “I can’t take— another— please…”

“We don’t care.” Dick growls in your ear, and you shudder at just how devilish he sounds, voice ripe with pleasure, “You’ll cum as many times as we want you to. Scream, cry, beg all you want, but you belong to us, now.” you whine, hands trembling, the symphony of sensations sending you over the edge just as Dick said you would, and you beg for mercy the entire time. mercy that neither of them had for you. “That’s more like it.”

your fervent, needy clenching had clearly pushed Jason to his own orgasm, because he was calling your name amidst the most animalistic of grunting, burying himself as deep as he could go until you could feel the shape of him against your lower belly, and he released. what was meant to be warm and comforting filled your belly with ice, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his arousal dropped out of you when he pulls free, glazing your bloody thighs. then, he drops your legs and steps awake. you felt hollowed out, and you want to double over and grip your belly, but Dick wouldn’t let you, even as Jason stumbled back and fell on to the couch, his cock twitching, lain over his thigh and shiny with his and your essences, cocktailed. you expected he might pant, if he needed to breathe, but instead, those clear glowing eyes watched you be destroyed by another.

even Jason at his roughest was no contest to how Dick was breaking you in. you practically dangled off of his cock, somewhere between conscious and not, as he drove himself into you mercilessly for several more minutes, moaning the most vulgar expletives you’d ever heard.

what’s worse?

you were still wet.

you were trembling and weak, eyes unable to stay open, and you looked as if you’d been attacked by a battalion of spiders by the fang wounds that littered your poor frame, you leaked cum, and you couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore, but you were still so aroused; so tickled that his relentless plowing was more than torture. it felt incredible. you still mewled with your mouth open, tongue hanging out, eyes rolled back. and Dick loved every moment of it. “Just one, little slumber party, and she’s already braindead.” he snorts, grabbing both of your shoulders to hold you in place as he pounds away, “You picked an easy one, Jay.”

“She’s a good girl,” Jason replied, husky, as he leans forward, staring into your eyes, “my good girl.”

“Don’t get greedy.” Dick warns, though the muscles in his jaw tense. he pulsates within you, and you know he must be close. “This little bloodslut is ours. Isn’t that right, baby?” one of his hands glides upwards, snatching a fistful of your hair to pull your head up, holding it steady.

you nod, breathless, your entire body rippling from the force of his fucking. “Y— yes—!”

your humiliating, hardly coherent shriek of a response must’ve shredded what was left of Dick’s composure, because he howls in pleasure, pummeling your abused body a couple more times before he shoves you off of him. with a soft thud and a raspy yelp, you hit the floor and roll over on to your back, quivering, and Dick stands over you, fucking his own fist like a man possessed. he moans, eyes closing and head tilting back, and streamers of his release paint your marked chest, mixing with the drying blood and spit. “See?” he croons, after he’s done with his masterpiece, and squats down to grab your face, his thumb and forefinger hollowing your cheeks as he turns you to face Jason on the couch, “Ours.”

you blink, slow, but your eyes are too glassy to truly focus on either of them, your body completely spent. if Dick wasn’t holding you up by your cheeks, you wouldn’t collapsed on the floor, and most likely drifted into a much needed rest.

“What do we do with her?” Jason asks, uncertain, but watching you close.

Dick laughs, as if Jason had asked the obvious. “We pack her up like a pretty, cum covered sack lunch and take her with us. Come on, tell me you don’t want to see your little toy waiting for you on her knees, fuckholes wet and ready, back at the manor every night?” he lets go of you, allowing you to fall back, chest heaving, body twitching.

“I… I want to go,” you babble, weakly, “I want to go with you…”

“You must truly be fucked completely brainless to want to go home with two bloodthirsty vampires whose only use for you is fucking and eating you whenever we want.” Jason snapped, getting to his feet, he stomps over, a slow and devious smirk playing at the corners of his lips. maybe Dick was rubbing off on him. “Then again, I could get used to seeing you like this. Completely fucking ruined.”

you stare up to both of them, and a simper of your own tickles your cheeks.

you were actually excited.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #dark!jason todd #red hood imagine #red hood smut #red hood x you #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #dark!dick grayson #dark!nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing smut #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing #Jason Todd #red hood #dc imagine #dc x you #dc x reader #dark!dc #dark dc

[amusingmusie]

Hi

I'm not going to be updating this week. I'm overwhelmed right now and need a quick break. This isn't a hiatus. The update will be soon, but when I'm ready. I know you guys want an update and I'm flattered people are invested in this, but blowing up my inbox on anon (there are many examples of this I have not responded to because I didn't want to engage with them) isn't going to make me write faster. I work and have a life. If you are that desperate to demand I post a new chapter, you can pay me real US dollars for it. Writing isn't easy, especially when my chapters are landing between 6k-9k words nowadays and I have to edit.

There have also been comments popping up on ao3 complaining about aspects of my fic that are clearly tagged. I get it, it's not everyone's cup of tea. It's got a lot of moving parts, it has other characters besides Al and Reader, I've got an insert with race/gender descriptors (which I would not be using if my fic didn't take place in Jim Crow era NOLA with heavy sexism in the mix, race is a big factor of my story, I chose to explore a mixed race relationship, it will have an actual impact on the plot, I didn't throw it in there because I'm an asshole).

That being said, if I have something specifically tagged and you don't like it, don't click on my work. If you don't like my fic then don't read it. I'm going to begin blocking people at this point. I'm not above criticism. I am above people feeling entitled to complain about something they were warned about then turning it on me.

I'm not saying this for anyone to come kiss my butt, I don't want or need that. I'm only being honest about why I need a few days away. I do this for free and because I enjoy doing this. I shouldn't be crying because I'm so stressed over a fanfic. So, before I fizzle out again, I'm stepping away. I may upload other pieces I've been working on or I may go silent. I've got a Huskerdust piece I'm having a lot of fun with. Either way, I'm gonna do what makes me happy and I'll be back with an update later in the month.

If this sounds like I'm yelling at you, that's not my intention. I am just so tired and done with not saying anything. To the pookers that are very kind and supportive, thank you so much. To the asks in my inbox, I promise I will be getting to you guys when I'm back and thank you for engaging with me. I don't want to act like I don't have awesome people in my circle or it's all doom and gloom. This has been boiling and finally reached a head tonight. I will be okay. I just need a minute.

See you soon,

-Muse

[tealfloyd]

DOG ON THE RUN!

"Gotta catch MC's new pet~"

SUMMARY: MC is kindly asked forced by Crowley to dog-sit for a stray dog found in the NRC, who likes to constantly run away. (Everyone x Fem!Reader).

WARNINGS: Nothing more than jealousy (over a dog).

CONTENT: Most of the guys being petty over a dog. Again, I didn't have any ideas for Ortho :( Crowley dumping his responsibilities onto you, again. A little Malleus x MC moment at the end but it's very short. Also, no mentions of Crewel :( WORDS: 6K+

A/N: Sorry, this took so long, I was busy with some things and had to focus on that for this week, so please excuse me if this work ended up being a bit messy.

I was planning to do it with a cat at first, since I have two cats, but decided to go with a puppy because it's way easier for them to run away, in my opinion, because I also had dogs.

Now onto the fic~

 “I can’t believe I got tricked by that crow again…” You muttered, looking for the little being that was now freely running through the halls.

You were wondering how you got into this situation to start with, remembering the earlier conversation you had with the so kind headmaster a few hours ago.

A FEW HOURS AGO

“You called for me?” You asked, entering the office after hearing a ‘come in!’ from the headmage, looking around its disastrous state. “By the Sevens, what happened here?”

“Oh, MC! You arrived just in time!” He exclaimed, a tired smile travelling up his features as he looked for something down his desk. “Would you mind helping me here?”

You approached, crouching to look down the desk. “What did you do this time?” You asked, gaze wandering for whatever he was looking for.

"Your words hurt me, Prefect, I'm a very diligent—" He was offended at first, but upon seeing your cold glare he let it pass, a little scared of this action. "I was checking on the well-being of the students as part of my diligent routine, when I stumbled with this little dog."

Your eyes widened at that. “A puppy? What is a puppy doing in this school?” Using the flashlight of your phone, you tried searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found. “I don’t see anything."

“But he must be here! There is no other way he could get out unless…” He glanced at the opened door, and a heavy sigh left his mouth. “Unless you left the door open…”

“He can be anywhere at this point, puppies are very energetic," you said, standing up while you stretched a bit because of the uncomfortable position. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I need to take care of something important, so you will need to take care of this," heading out, he started waving, shooting you a grin. “I’m counting on you, Prefect!” And with that note, he left.

“Wait, I have plans with Grim-!” You yelled, checking the empty hallway with no signs of Crowley. “This bit—"

And that’s how you ended up in this dilemma, having to look for a lost puppy and at the same time taking care of a grumpy cat, who was walking with you to look for it (‘unwillingly’, as he says).

“Why did you drag me into this? I don’t want to make part of your… Whatever-you’re-looking-for quest!” Grim whined, tiredly walking with you as his eyes struggled to stay opened.

“It’s not like I accepted, I really wanted to take a nap too, but if we want to eat nicely for another day, then we must do this," you felt bad as Grim kept yawning, an idea suddenly popping on your mind. “Do you want to rest on my back? I’m sure it will take a while before I find him”.

He didn’t make any sound, hazily nodding before climbing on your back, leaving you to look for the creature in silence, making the task a bit more complicated.

Fortunately, you spotted him when you turned the corner, invisible to some of the students that were exiting the Mirror Chamber, who left the door opened enough for the little being to hop onto the delicate room.

“Wait—" You were suddenly reminded that you weren’t alone, as your cat companion yawned one more time before drifting off to Dreamland, shutting up in frustration.

Running as quietly and steadily as you could, you finally made it to the door, encountering the happy puppy as it decided which colourful door he should pass through.

When you were just about to reach him, he decided to jump onto the Heartslabyul mirror, leaving you with your arms hanged on nothing as you let out a quiet scream.

“How can such an adorable creature be so mischievous?” You whispered. “Wait, that’s Floyd…” You thought, finally crossing the Queen of Hearts portal.

EXHIBITING NOW IN: HEARTSLABYUL

The landing in Heartslabyul was abrupt, so you had to quickly balance yourself so you wouldn’t fall on the land.

“Couldn’t have chosen a more confusing dorm…”

Every time you visited Heartslabyul, one (if not all) of the dorm members had to guide you so you didn’t end up lost; so how were you supposed to find a puppy, which had tons of energy, in such a wide maze?

Well, obviously, for cases like this, you had to rely on luck; and that’s exactly what you did. You turned every corner carefully in order to catch the little animal, and someone up there must like you because just when you were about to exit the maze (by accident, of course), you heard some barks and a high-pitched scream.

Running towards the noise, you found a pretty hilarious yet scary scene.

Trey holding the puppy, which was covered by cake and other deserts; Riddle stood next to him, a tea stain on his usually clean uniform, all while Ace was laughing his ass off and poor Deuce trying to do something to help. Cater tried to record the whole thing, but immediately stopped upon seeing the wrath in Riddle’s face.

You decided it was time to intervene, approaching with stealthy steps, keeping your distance so the noise wouldn’t affect Grim’s sleep. “I’m sorry guys, I didn’t intend to disturb your tea party."

Retrieving the creature from Trey’s hands, you lightly scolded him, trying to ease up the mood. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, if this was Ace’s or Deuce’s doing they would be cleaning windows because of this."

After this, everyone stayed quiet, a blush creeping up their faces as they registered the cute scene in front of them.

Riddle’s wrath dissipated a little after you appeared, thing that is very much appreciated by everyone present. But a new feeling started to blossom in his interior, that being jealousy; not that he knows about this though, he’s never had a crush before, so it’s a new, and certainly a very uncomfortable experience, for him. His face is red, but for different reasons now; he wishes the one you’re cradling and saying sweet compliments to is him, and he knows it’s stupid of him to feel like this because of a dog, but he can’t help it. Maybe this ended up in a good matter because now you’re paying him attention (mostly because you’re concerned; after all, he’s really red).

Trey is, unsurprisingly, the chilliest one of the five. He’s Heartslabyul only hope in terms of appearing normal. He doesn’t feel jealous of you interacting more with the little being; this actually enforces his teasing, but how can you blame him after you did something so cute? Answer: You can’t. He helps you clean the animal, and from the outside it seems like you both are taking care of your little dog son. He is all down for domestic stuff, so naturally his face becomes the slightest shade of pink at the innocent action, making some light chat to ease the mood.

Magicam better be prepared, because Cater is about to create a whole new section on his profile about you and your pup companion, called: “The cutest animal and the cutest Prefect <3!”. There isn’t anything that anyone can do to stop this; you all must wait until the storm is over. In fifteen minutes, he uploaded around 100 photos and videos of you and your canine friend just… Existing. He isn’t bothered by the fact that you are paying more attention to the dog than everyone else, at first. He looks through the pictures and that’s when he notes that he has never been nestled in your arms before… And now he has a new objective.

Ace is offended, because how dare you pay more attention to something that isn’t him? He can’t function properly if you don’t talk to him, but he knows that he can’t just retrieve the puppy from your arms; even if he seems nonchalant, he really wants to make you comfortable, and that action would make you mad, and what’s worse, mad at him. Though he has to admit that the scene it’s pretty adorable and wholesome; and unbeknownst to him, he took a liking to the creature, playing with him a little. It ends up being a win-win situation: you are happy, and he gets attention.

Deuce had a hard time processing the situation. Like, he just saw this dog jump onto the table out of nowhere, and then you appear claiming it’s yours. His mind first tries to comprehend how did a dog get into the school in the first place, also commenting about the fact that he can’t believe the headmaster dumped his responsibilities onto you again. He doesn��t get jealous; why should he be jealous over a dog? Ace had to explain to him why he should be outraged by this, but he doesn't get the point of it, saying it was just a dog and that there wasn’t any harm try to learn something from him.

You stayed to help clean the mess that your newfound pet had caused, insisting to the refusing boys that it wasn’t a problem.

Grim must have been really tired because he didn’t wake up after all the screaming and barking, soft complaints leaving his mouth, probably a result of his dreams.

You were cleaning the tablecloth, which had a huge tea stain on it and some smudges of the previous disaster, sighing at how difficult it was to clean them off.

Ace was bothering you as always, and Cater was on his phone, one of his clones helping the others as he uploaded the remaining photos. Everyone else was organising the garden.

It was then when you heard a bark, turning your head towards the noise, finding that the puppy was following a butterfly, running towards the mirror.

You excused yourself, apologising as you ran too, following the surprisingly fast dog.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: SAVANACLAW

You passed through the mirror, glancing at the dark room to try and spot him, and sure enough, his next choice was Savanaclaw, happily hopping on it.

You sighed, hopping in as well to try and chase him faster. It didn’t help that Savanaclaw was overbearingly hot, having to stop for a few seconds in order to catch your breath.

Those few seconds were enough to lose sight of him again, and you sighed at it, deciding to walk further into the King of Beasts territory to find him.

It didn’t pass much time before you did though, finding the little creature sitting on one of the lounge’s couches, looking at something, or more like someone.

You shifted your glance towards the person he was looking at, and you were met with a growling Leona, who immediately sensed your stare, turning to look at you in the eyes, grumpily approaching you.

Ruggie was also there, a frown adorning his face as he glared at the oblivious puppy, while Jack tried to comprehend what was a dog doing in their dorm.

“There you are," you said, starting to walk towards the pup, leaving the three of them shocked. “How are you so fast? I wouldn’t be surprised if Crowley fed you batteries."

“Sorry if we interrupted you, it wasn’t our intention, right?” You shook a little his little paw, making an apologetic bow at the three students, who stayed in silence; this time, much longer than the Heartslabyul guys, and you thought that seeing a dog had somehow affected them.

Yes, but actually no.

Leona had to process for a second that, one: there was a dog in his dorm. And two: that dog was apparently yours. He’s not a cat, but he’s still a feline, and seeing the little canine sitting so relaxed on a couch of his territory made him mad; and on top of that, it seems you like this furball better than him. He won’t admit he’s jealous, and even if he looks snappy, he still respects women, and wouldn’t dare to say something that would make you mad instead. He just waits for you to stop being so cutesy and attentive of the little being, so he can be the one you’re paying attention to.

Ruggie is wary. Hyenas aren’t felines nor canines, though they are closer to the feline family. That’s one of the reasons he’s wary of this dog, and also because it appeared out of nowhere and already claimed the couch as his own. He’s surprised when you said that you were taking care of the pup, ears deflating a little because that meant you couldn’t be with him… To run some errands, clearly. Overall, he isn’t that jealous, more like annoyed, but he dissimulates it pretty well, so you don’t know he’s upset in the first place.

Jack isn’t jealous in the slightest. He’s a fan of canines; he loves sporty and energetic animals, and for him, the dogs are the epitome of this description. Like Deuce, he doesn’t know why he should feel jealous over a dog, being the only one among this group that can interact adequately with the canine. He taught him some cool tricks, and that actually sparked your curiosity due to his natural training skills, cooing at the adorable scene. He immediately backed up, cheeks burning while saying that he was just trying to control his energy, continuing to caress the little being.

The atmosphere in Savanaclaw was heavy; partially because of the two beastmen that were fuming over you paying more attention to a dog than them, and the remaining one being pretty excited about this.

Thank you Jack for being the only one with common sense over there.

You decided to stay for a bit, mostly because you and Jack were trying to train him, oblivious to the ominous stare that both his dorm leader and unofficial vice dorm leader were sending to you.

For their like, the dog ran away, probably because the heat. And for their dislike, you had to chase after him.

Quickly excusing yourself, you followed his trace, having to run and soothe Grim because he was starting to wake up, lulling him to sleep once again.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: OCTAVINELLE

“How can he have so much energy…?” You said out loud, tired by the constant chasing.

You spotted the dog faster this time, following him to the next dorm, which was Octavinelle.

Though the difference was that you actually caught it before he could start wandering around the dorm, lifting it up to check on him.

“Really, you have to stop doing this, I don’t think I can endure it any longer," you lightly scolded, sighing softly when the little creature tilted his head, not understanding anything you just said. “I think it would be easier if we return to, AH—"

You couldn’t help the yelp that you let out, recognising the person who would always lift you up upon seeing you.

“Shrimpy~! I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Exclaimed Floyd, hugging you, and by consequence, Grim, who woke up exalted because of this.

“Nyah?!” He jumped off straight to the floor, thankfully falling on his feet. “What are we doing here?!”

“You forgot? I came here for him," you signalled the puppy, but Floyd didn’t take notice of this, thinking that you were in his dorm to see him specifically.

He didn’t put you down, rather choosing to bring you to the Lounge as he carried you like a cat, leaving a puzzled and annoyed Grim behind.

Less to say that you couldn’t make it through the mirror.

Azul was confused. He was trying to finish some paperwork on his office, when Jade said that he should come out to check on something. He was prepared for anything but this. He gets why Floyd brought you, and he also understands why he is holding you like a cat, but what he doesn’t get is why you’re cradling a puppy. Even if there aren’t puppies in the sea, he knows about them, but isn’t very versed when it comes to interacting with them. He’s jealous, yet he doesn’t demonstrate this, the only person knowing about this being Jade who would totally use this as blackmail, sorry Azul. His mind has two sides; jealousy and using this as promotion because: Prefect plus a cute puppy equals earnings.

Jade is taken aback. You always manage to surprise him, don’t you? He will gratefully take every interesting action (or any action in general, as long as it involves you), and this one was a pleasant one for sure. He was cleaning some tables when Floyd appeared, about to ask what made him took so long when he spotted you, holding a puppy. He couldn’t even ask as Floyd was saying that he was the reason you came to visit, making him raise a brow in amusement, deciding that it was worth telling Azul to come and see. He isn’t jealous, since it’s just a puppy, and although it’s cute, it isn’t anything he should be worried about.

Floyd totally didn’t saw the puppy at first. One of his talents is recognising you after a few seconds of seeing you, and that’s all it takes for him to focus on you and forget about everything else. He was so happy when he thought you said that you were there for him, only for it to be crushed after you explained the whole story. He’s mad at the puppy; how does he dare to steal his Shrimpy’s attention? He should be the one getting compliments about being cute and receiving kisses! In fact, he doesn’t hold back, and demands the same thing he thinks he’s been deprived off, so all I got to say is… Good luck partner.

That puppy should be grateful you’re the one holding him, because you’re the only one that can protect him from Floyd’s grasp.

When he finally let you down, you understood that you weren’t going anywhere, sitting on one of the tables as Jade brought you your favourite drink.

It’s not like you didn’t appreciate it, you did, but it you wished it would have been under another context because having three boys intently staring at you and your puppy companion wasn’t the best scenario.

Azul and Jade sensed your discomfort, and in an effort to ease the mood started to ask some light questions regarding the situation.

You responded them, being able to multitask as you kept the puppy secured in one arm while one of your hands caressed Floyd’s hair.

When Grim entered the Lounge, it was the moment that said creature decided to leave, wiggling out of your grasp as he sprinted outside the dorm.

You stood up abruptly, sighing once again at the inconvenience, lifting Grim and running as fast as you could to catch him and also to escape Floyd.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: SCARABIA

You were grateful about Vargas classes now, since you were able to outrun the enthusiastic eel.

It seemed like the puppy wanted to go to Scarabia next, because as soon as he jumped out of the Sea Witch dorm he hoped into the land of the Sorcerer of the Sands.

“Hey! I demand you put down right now!” Yelled Grim, making you realise you were still holding him.

“Oh, sorry," you did what he told, putting him softly on the floor. “I can’t believe he ran away again…"

“He was probably scared of all those shady mermen," commented the cat, who was scratching his back to get rid of the sand. “I was having a good dream too…”

You felt bad, coming up with a new suggestion. “We can still have that nap after all of this is over, if you want."

He sighed, looking like he was about to reject the offer when in reality he did want to spend some time with you. “Fine… I can’t believe we still have to find that nuisance—"

A yell coming from inside the dorm was heard, enough to interrupt Grim in the middle of his complain.

“Jamil! I found a puppy!”

“I don’t think we have to search anymore”

Kalim is the one paying more attention to the puppy. He’s immune to jealousy when it comes to something so adorable like a pup, and he’s a huge animal lover, so combining that with one of his favourite persons in the world is a huge yes for him! It’s literally the human version of a puppy interacting with a real one; it was so adorable that you actually had to record it, saving it on your gallery as one of your favourites, smiling at the wholesome scene. He plays with him a few more minutes until he realises something: he can spoil this dog, and you can be sure that if Kalim was the one owning the dog it would be living his best life.

Jamil was alarmed. Since the yell was so loud that you and Grim heard it, he checked on Kalim at the speed of light. He sighed in relief because he found that he was okay, but in annoyance too because he didn’t need to be so loud. You had to explain to him what a dog was doing in the school, and most importantly, what was he doing in his dorm. He understood the explanation; it’s a universal fact that Crowley dumps his responsibilities onto you, yet he still feels a bit uneasy about leaving such creature that came out of nowhere in his dorm, even under your charge. He doesn’t feel jealous, but he is indeed wondering how is it that a dog gets better treatment than him.

Scarabia was by far the chilliest dorm to stay. No discussions, no exaggerated reactions (maybe Kalim at first, but you can’t blame him for screaming after seeing something that cute), just you five enjoying life.

Grim fell asleep again, resting on your lap as he snored quietly, making you chuckle, caressing his fur.

The puppy also was asleep, far away in his dreamland where he was, for once in the whole day, completely calm.

It was a strange feeling, but it wasn’t an unwelcomed one as you all took a collective breath of fresh air, only for the moment to be interrupted by said puppy, who seemed like he still had energy left, standing up abruptly to run away, again.

Your hopes were crushed as well, also standing up, accommodating Grim so he was in a more comfortable position, walking towards the dorm you guessed he will be off next.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: POMEFIORE

“I hope my instinct is right…” You muttered, passing through the mirror to see a trail of paw marks leading to the Fairest Queen dorm.

You followed the trail, now much faster because he was leaving paw marks in the beauty dorm, and you could only imagine the wrath of Vil if he found out that such a disarranged dog was causing a mess.

You were rounding a corner when you found that someone caught him first, that someone being a familiar hunter that was inspecting the creature, fawning over his cuteness.

You couldn’t even say hi because he was greeting you with his usual smile, asking what brings you here, completely ignoring the fact that he was holding your dog like a cat.

“Ah, actually, I came here because of him," you pointed at the dog, careful to not drop Grim in the process. “I’m sorry about the mess, it’s really hard to keep track of him when he keeps escaping."

You retrieved the dog from his grasp, making an apologetic bow for the disaster to which he responded that it wasn’t a problem.

You were about to leave, stopping when Rook invited you to stay, and you would have said no if Vil and Epel didn’t appear.

At least he is getting a free spa treatment.

Vil is displeased at the sight. How can you hold something that it’s so… Messy? He doesn’t get how you don’t worry about your clothes or your skin making contact with such a dishevelled animal, and it’s not like he dislikes dogs, it’s just that he prefers them to be clean and polished. He understands that you like him the dog, everyone does; after all, dogs keep being the trend in Magicam because of their adorableness, but do you really have to cuddle him like it’s your baby? He would let you cuddle him if you asked! Not even caring if his makeup is ruined because of it, that is if you asked…

Rook finds this situation so beautiful. He loves dogs and finding one happily wandering through the halls was a great surprise, lifting him up to inspect him; oh! So this adorable creature is yours? How splendid! His charming chère and one of his favourite animals? Such an exquisite combination of both beauty and cuteness! He can’t feel jealous over this, how can he? As long as you’re happy there’s nothing he should be intimidated of, instead choosing to bask in your comforting and warm presence.

Epel feels jealous, but this is a special ocassion because he is jealous of the dog and you. The dog because even if he doesn’t want you to think he’s adorable, he still wants those compliments because they come from you, but at the same time he is jealous of you because he is a huge dog lover, and he wishes to cradle that little puppy like you are doing now. Just pass him the dog and everyone will be happy... For a few moments because there is no way Vil’s letting Epel mess up his perfectly clean uniform with dog fur, much to his annoyance.

Your stay in Pomefiore was prolonged because Vil refused to let your companion go looking like that (also including Grim), so he brought you three to the spa.

He had some pet shampoo, mainly because he wanted to use it on Grim as a method to prevent you catching something, since he’s always with you, so all that was left was apply it.

He took care of the puppy while you took care of Grim, who was putting up a fight after feeling the first drop of water.

Rook had to help you while Epel was passing things for both you and Vil.

The scene felt very domestic, and all of you were enjoying the process. Well, Grim being the obvious exception.

After drying and grooming your pet and talking cat, you thanked them for their help, starting to walk back to Ramshackle, thinking that this was finally over.

Oh MC, cute and naïve MC, how bold of you to think that.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: IGNIHYDE

“You had me running the whole day, what do you have to say about it?” You asked the puppy, who only barked in response. “Apology accepted."

“What about me?!” Grim yelled, impatiently tapping his manicured foot on the ground.

“Yeah, I accept your apology too," you scoffed, still caressing the now shiny fur of the dog.

“How dare you bath me without my consent?! That’s illegal!” He proclaimed.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you were starting to smell just a little bit. So it’s a good thing Vil decided to give you a bath," he gasped, offended at the accusation, staying silent and pouting as a way to ignore you.

“Don’t be mad, we can still continue to watch movies on that old TV I foun- WAH!—” You had to pause, trying to register the pain on your shoulder after the puppy jumped off of it, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Again?!” Grim whined, paws covering his face in frustration.

“No time to complain Grim, we better chase after him."

You both crossed the mirror leading to the dorm of the Lord of the Underworld, spotting the pup in seconds, bee-lining towards its dorm leader, who had decided to pay you a visit after Ortho finally convinced him to go to your dorm.

“Idia! Catch him!” You screamed, and although the pup wasn’t very big, he had strength, making Idia fall back due to the impact and the surprise.

Idia was scared. He was on his phone, using it as a method to distract himself from the fact that he was indeed going to visit you, when he heard a yell. Feeling something colliding against his chest, he fell on the floor out of shock and bad reflexes. You had to quickly lift the dog, who was searching something on the bag that he was holding, realising later that it was because of the beef jerky he previously bought. He likes dogs, but this was certainly a point for him to like cats a bit more; he can’t stand dog people, but he guesses you can be the exception you're totally the exception.

You immediately lifted the puppy up, apologising to Idia for the troubles, helping him stand while you still held the animal.

Idia rebooted for a few seconds before noting that you were holding his hand, hair combusting into pink flames at the action, unconsciously pulling it back.

You bowed at him, saying that you were very sorry that this happened while Grim was cackling in the background, making the boy even more flustered.

He wondered if you would think of him as weak since he couldn’t even catch a dog, barely talking in order to not embarrass himself further.

You reassured him, explaining that this dog was very energetic, trying to make him feel better about himself.

It worked a bit, after he let out a frustrated sight, saying he was going back to his room, awkwardly waving you goodbye, wishing to scream onto a pillow out of frustation.

NOW EXHIBITING IN: DIASOMNIA

“Did you see how he fell? I can’t believe he couldn’t catch a dog!” Grim was still cackling, making you huff in anger as you stared at him.

“I don’t find this funny, Grim," your cold tone made him have shivers down his spine, and he knew it was better to avoid your ire than fuelling it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, can we finally go back to sleep now?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door to get out of the Mirror Chamber.

You should have guessed it by now, but it seemed that the dog wanted to explore the last dorm, managing to wiggle out of your secure grasp to hop onto the Thorn Witch realm.

“Are you kidding me?” You stated, whining in exasperation as you started to walk towards the Diasomnia portal.

“Good luck on your own," said Grim, leaving the room, deciding that it was too much effort for zero results, leading you to chase after the puppy alone.

And now you’re starting to realise that that dog may be fearless because he wasn’t scared in the slightest of Diasomnia’s gloomy and dark ambience, making your work more difficult.

Though the one that made it easier was none other than the King of the Valley of Thorns himself, picking it up in curiosity as the people behind him were shocked by this.

Malleus was amused, and then enraged. He has seen plenty of dogs in his life but has never interacted with them; they were intimidated by his mysterious aura, running away in seconds, yet this one stayed, which made him more curious about it. He comes to know why is that when you come to pick him up, explaining that you were in charge of him for the day, or maybe for the rest of your life. Light thunders started to form, the reason behind being his jealousy. Why won’t you compliment him and caress him like that? Is it because he’s not a dog? He could turn himself into one if that meant having your love and affection, and no, he’s not joking.

Lilia is delighted by this! Who would have said that such an adorable dog would find his way into a villain’s school? He literally snatched it from your arms, intentionally ceasing the thunders since Malleus calmed down after this. He treats him like a baby, and he can’t help it, it’s just so cute! He wouldn’t even get the opportunity to be jealous, it’s more like he’s jealous he can’t have a pet. Don’t let Lilia even think about getting him a homemade snack, because he will be more than willing to give it to him, so make sure to grab him before he teleports to the kitchen.

Silver is happy about this. He can’t feel jealousy when the dog is the one reaching up to him; he’s an animal attractor, and the puppy wasn’t an exception, so you let him be when you noticed he wanted to be with the knight, cheerfully barking at him as a sign of appreciation. If Crowley lets you keep it (which he probably would since the probabilities of him taking care of him are low), you are sure you’re going to visit Diasomnia with him, that way you will have him and Malleus under control.

Sebek is jealous of the dog because it takes your and his lord Malleus attention, period. He doesn’t think this animal is worth of you nor Malleus, though he only interacted with him once and then moved onto Silver so he just looks at him in discontent until you let the dog be with the second year student, which he also doesn’t appreciate much but it’s better than having you fawn over such a weak creature, it’s definitely not because he wants your compliments, definitely not- In fact, how dare you even think something like that human? Don’t you know that-

You sighed when Malleus took hold of the little being, amazed and relieved it wasn’t scared of him, sharing a mutual curiosity.

The puppy went from Tsunotarou’s hands, to yours, Lilia’s and then finally setting on Silver’s, happily licking his face as an affective gesture.

You sighed, feet hurting because of all the exercise you did today, an idea forming in your exhausted mind.

“Tsunotarou, can I ask you a favour?”

MC, he would cover up a murder for you and then blame it on himself if you asked, so of course he can do you a favour.

LASTLY, EXHIBITING IN: RAMSHACKLE

“Thank you, Tsunotarou," you said, breaking the hand holding, thankful for the teleport ride. “I would invite you for tea or something, but I’m kind of tired and I still have to watch over him."

Some grey clouds were starting to form, stopping abruptly at your next sentence.

“But you can come tomorrow, Riddle gave me a tea set and I’ve been meaning to use it."

His eyes widened at the invitation, lips forming a gentle smile. “I will be pleased to assist your tea party, Child of Man."

“Great!” You exclaimed, hearing a little yawn, coming from the tired puppy in your arms. “It seems like you've finally burnt out," you chuckled, waving your hand at the tall dragon fae as you closed the door. “Thanks again, please take care."

And with that, you finally closed it, making you sigh in relief at the end of the adventure, sitting on the sofa next to a sleeping Grim, silently laughing at the cute sight.

“Now that I think about it…” You looked at the puppy, who also looked at you, tilting his head. “You don’t have a name, do you?”

The only response you got was a little whimper.

“What do you think about ‘Goofy’? After all, you’re pretty goofy yourself, aren’t you?” You tickled his belly, and he let out a cute yawn, nuzzling into your lap. “Goofy it is."

Your eyes started to drop, also falling asleep with your cat companion and apparently new pet.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver twisted wonderland x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #mc twisted wonderland #mc/yuu

[existentialcrisistime]

D&D: Honor Among Thieves (Xenk/Edgin) fic rec list:

These are just based on those I've read and loved so far. There are so many incredible works coming out of this new fandom that I'm sure I'll have enough recs for a second post in another month or so.

Because this turned onto a bit of a long post, the recs are below the cut.

I've marked the rating by each fic, but please do mind the tags!

Curse of the Green Hag by @moorishflower (E, 16k)

Xenk contracts a fuck-or-die curse and turns up on Edgin's doorstep for the first time since Neverwinter. Also contains an excellent cameo from Holga, a bit of bondage, Xenk's first time, and A Lot of emotions. And of course the actual smut is top tier. Already wanting to read this one again.

High Praise Indeed by enchantedsleeper (T, 3k)

Xenk stops by Holga and Edgin's cottage to find Edgin in the throes of a breakup. In the process of trying to persuade Edgin of his many worthy qualities, he accidentally reveals a little too much. Short and very sweet, with cameos from Holga and Kira. Would recommend for fans of pining idiots.

in the absence of truth by @floralprintshark (E, 13k)

Five times Ed says that he hates Xenk and one time he doesn't. Yes, a 5+1 things, but oh it's so much more than that! There are heists and hijinks, accidental asshole Edgin, uncertain and inexperienced Xenk, and a hint of polyamory between Simon and Doric, but the whole party are featured and written perfectly here. Also contains Many emotions. I sent this one to the group chat, and we were ALL screaming about it (in the best way)

Universal Glue by Korwwa (E, 10k)

A rescue mission goes wrong, and Xenk and Edgin get caught in, yes, a glue trap. The premise may sound like a crack fic, but it's definitely taken seriously, whilst still being very fun. Plus a wee bit of angst for (delicious) seasoning.

Scraping the Moss Off the Standing Stones by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (E, 4k)

Established relationship, Xenk comes home after a long time away and Edgin takes care of him. Oh boy, this fic sure packs a lot into just 4k words, and I feel like the author just Gets how I imagine Xenk - always seen as holy or evil, but just wanting to be treated like a person. Also very hot - I'm weak for some well-written dirty talk and this is perfect.

When the well runs dry by demon_faith (G, 2k)

Part one of the Time Heals All Wounds series, which can either be read as a series or as stand-alone fics. Established relationship, Edgin is badly injured, and Xenk is unable to heal him. A classic hurt/comfort with a good bit of Edgin whump, and Xenk struggling with the reality of that.

On the edge of a blade by demon_faith (T, 3k)

Part two of the series, again established relationship. This time, Xenk gets badly hurt, and it's up to Edgin to take care of him. Heavy on both the hurt and the comfort.

lay on hands by @hauntedfalcon (E, 2k)

A getting-together/first-time fic, with a healthy dose of body worship. Xenk gets off on Edgin's metaphors. Beautifully written, and also my initial thoughts were - this is an author who sure is clued up on the names of medieval clothing/armor.

half your life (you've been hooked on death) by roundtriptojupiter (T, 2.5k)

Edgin struggles to process the events of the past six months, when Xenk turns up at his doorstep. Or, Edgin and Xenk process grief together, then kiss about it. A great exploration of Edgin's emotions, not only regarding Zia and Holga, but of the other people he may have harmed along the way.

We can burn much brighter (if we don't look back) by enchantedsleeper (T, 6k)

Xenk apprehends Forge and learns of the events that transpired at Neverwinter. Grappling with the fact that his past almost repeated itself while he was too far away to help, he encounters Edgin. Such a lovely post-movie fic, exploring just how Edgin and Xenk are processing their feelings in the wake of it.

Do you know you'll never fly alone? by MayGlenn (T, 1.2k)

Something a bit more light-hearted to end the recs list on: a fix-it of sorts, but for the poor undead guy in the post-credits scene. Xenk takes Edgin on a late night ride, to fix an issue he'd left behind, but maybe for something more also...

And that's that for now! Please do feel free to recommend your favourite D&D: Honor Among Thieves fics in return, or yell about which of these you loved the most. My comments and inbox are always open :))

And to the fic writers (and all fic writers out there), thank you so much for sharing these stories with us! You're all absolutely wonderful, talented people <3

#dnd honor among thieves #dungeons and dragons honor among thieves #xedgin #edgin x xenk #fic recs #nic's recs #dndhat fic #nic watches dndhat #rec list

[neon-junkie]

Behind the Screen - Pt.3

Summary: Tech has been scrolling for hours, searching for something specific. His little crush on you is constantly sitting on his shoulders, and it’s weighing him down to the point that he’s desperate to find any content that reminds him of you, so he can jerk off and go to sleep! However, what he wasn’t expecting was to come across you specifically, legs spread, hand in between your thighs as you touch yourself proudly on camera.

Pairing: Tech x Female Reader

Tags: Sex work, Mutual pining, Masturbation, Flirting, Smut, First time, First kiss, Light dom/sub, Oral (giving and receiving,) Multiple positions, Dirty talk, Creampie, Pillow talk, Love confessions.

Word count: 6k

[Part 1]

Notes: HELLO LOL. I didn't realise I had left this fic for a year n a half!! I started writing the finale back after I posted the previous chapter, but I just... couldn't get into it. I kept going back to it, adding this, removing that, and then I decided to leave it for a couple of months, and focus on other fics. Well, it's finished! I've finished this series!!! YIPPIEEEEE!!! Thank you to everybody who's stuck around. I didn't think this trope/fic would become popular, but I'm thankful that it has ^_^

Knock knock!

You knock again, uncertain if Tech heard the first time. He's probably caught up in work, as always, no doubt with headphones on. It's also likely that he might be asleep, but it's a rarity for Tech to sleep before the sun rises. He can be both a night owl, and an early worm, only because he stays up all day and night, tinkering away on never-ending projects.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you decide that he doesn't want to be disturbed, and begin making your way down the Marauder's corridor, heading back to your room.

And then a familiar voice calls out your name...

Peering over your shoulder, you lock eyes with Tech, half-hanging out of his doorway. He looks like he's just run a marathon, covered in sweat, and missing his shirt with his goggles resting up on his forehead. "Do you need something?" he asks after clearing his throat.

"Your assistance, if you're free?" you question back.

Tech stutters, debating his reply. He knows that you're into him, and that you're attempting to get him into bed right now, but the issue is... well, him. It's painfully obvious what Tech has just been doing - jerking off - as he's still rock solid, and barely able to hide his length behind his sweatpants. How is he meant to explain that? Confess that he was watching your stream? What if you get offended? Or find it creepy?

"What exactly do you need?" Tech asks, somewhat avoiding your question.

"Uh... I can tell you in my room? It's... personal," you briefly explain with a soft shrug, nodding in the direction of your room.

You truly are two awkward idiots pining after each other, aren't you? Both in your underwear, clearly interested in each other, but too ditsy to confess and sin the night away. "One second," Tech mutters before scurrying back into his room. He shifts his erection about, attempting to cover it as much as possible. If he walks a certain way, then he can keep his erection contained, rather than letting it glide against the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. So, he waddles awkwardly after you down the hallway, and thankfully, your back remains turned.

Upon entering, Tech blushes at your setup, knowing exactly what you've been doing. It's not like he was watching, right?

"What are you filming?" Tech asks, hoping that his innocent question is an open window for certain things to happen.

"Well..." you begin, and turn to face him. "I need your assistance for something that I'm filming, but it's rather... uh, explicit."

"Explicit?" Tech stutters, looking at you wide-eyed. Maker, are his eyes always this vibrant? A welcoming shade of brown, often hidden behind the yellow tint of his goggles. The soft indents of his goggles come into focus, and you smile at the sight. He's such a dork - a loveable, shirtless dork, who's attempting to not focus on the used dildo sitting on your bedside table.

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation. Your eyes scan the perimeter, quickly chalking up a plan. Maybe you should have thought about how to come onto him first, but there's no harm in following the flow. "Sit down," you gesture to your bed, although your words come out like a timid question.

Tech looks at you for a moment before sitting on the edge of your bed, his hands resting on his lap, clearly hiding something. Without a word, you slowly drop to your knees, positioning yourself in front of Tech's legs. He raises a brow, and it remains raised as you say, "tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"Alright," Tech nods, followed by letting out a shaky sigh. He watches as you place your hands on his thighs, parting them slightly so you can wedge yourself between his knees. His thigh muscles flex at your touch, skin contact separated by a thick layer of fabric, soon to hopefully be removed.

You gently squeeze Tech's thighs, massaging them in an attempt to calm his nerves; or are you trying to calm yourself? Your stomach is more restless than the waves on Kamino, and somehow, they worsen when Tech finally moves his hands off his crotch, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"Oh," you softly sigh, not realising the expression has fallen from your lips. Tech grips onto the edge of your bed, bunching up fistfuls of your duvet, acting like an awkward teenager. His tense emotion grows tenfold when you look up at him from beneath your lashes, and ask, "may I?" in a tone so sweet that it's guaranteed to give him cavities.

"Please," Tech practically sobs, desperate for your touch.

You don't dive in straight away; instead, you wrap your hand around his clothed erection, and get a feel for what you'll be working with. Maker, he's gorgeous. Tech seems to be the man of your dreams, delicious and perfect in every way, and such perfections continue throughout his entire body. He sweetly groans as you touch him, firmly enough to show your presence, but still light as to not give him too much pleasure.

"Is this alright?" you question, locking your gaze onto Tech's.

Tech's fists tighten around the edge of your bed, attempting to steady his dizzy form. He's on cloud nine, in euphoria, blissed out from such a small amount of contact. "Y-Yes," Tech weakly nods.

A light laugh flows from your lips as you move a hand up to press on his chest. "Relax," you sweetly order as you gently push, encouraging him to drop onto his elbows, and unwind for the first time in days.

Tech goes to push the bridge of his goggles up his nose, a small gesture that he does when nervous, only to remember that they're resting on his forehead. You can't help but smile at him again, and your smile remains as you gesture to Tech's sweatpants and ask, "can I take these off?"

"Of course," Tech consents with another nod. With your help, he shimmies his sweatpants down, and kicks them off, discarding them on your bedroom floor.

As Tech lies back onto his elbows, you take a good look at him, now nude, relaxing on your bed. His solid cock is pressed deliciously against his stomach, waiting for attention, with a certain... something wrapped around the base. You make a mental note to mention that later, but for now, you peer up as Tech casts you a soft smile after readjusting the way his goggles are sitting on his forehead; clearly, he's uncertain if he should remove them, and you decide for him as you comment, "they look cute."

"Cute?" Tech repeats with rosy cheeks. "Darling, if only you could see yourself."

This time, you're the one blushing. The tender moment fizzes out into lust as your eyes trail back down to his cock, and instinctively, you sit forward on your knees, sandwiching yourself between Tech's thighs again. An almost silent exhale can be heard as you gently wrap your fist around his cock, and begin jerking him, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight.

"So..." you begin. "I should probably tell you what exactly is going on."

"Oh. Yes, indeed," Tech agrees, feigning innocence, as if he wasn't watching you perform mere minutes ago, with clear evidence scattered around your dorm.

"Well, Tech... in my spare time, I like to stream."

"What games do you play?" Tech questions without missing a beat.

"I- No, I mean stream," you repeat, and emphasize that last word.

"Oh," Tech mutters as he side-eyes the used dildo still sitting on your bedside table. His expression is pleasant, far from concerned, not the expression that you were expecting.

"Yeah. And I've been wanting to partner up with someone for quite some time now..." you continue, leaving open windows for Tech to slide any questions in. Instead, he simply nods. "...My viewers were telling me I should make a move on someone that I'm into, and... well, now you're here."

Tech lets out a nervous sound, a mixture between a laugh, and a sigh. "You have... far better choices than myself," he grumbles as he diverts his gaze to the floor.

"Don't be so self-deprecating, Tech," you roll your eyes. "If I wanted anyone else, I would have approached them, hm?"

"Certainly, that is true," Tech agrees with a light shrug. "However, I'm not certain that I can perform up to your standards."

"Oh?" you quirk a brow. "Are you hinting that you're a virgin?"

Tech lets out that same nervous sound from before as one hand moves up to rub the back of his neck. "Not particularly, but it's been so long that I certainly feel like my virginity has 'grown back,' as some would say."

Whilst still slowly pumping Tech's cock, you kiss along his tanned thighs, noticing how the muscles tense and relax under your touch. "Well..." you say between kisses, "how about you let me do the work, and I'll guide you?"

A whimper escapes Tech's lips when you reach his cock, only to divert your lips away, and peer up at him, awaiting his reply. "I am happy with this arrangement," Tech confirms with an eager nod.

"Good, good," you smile. "Now, I need to address the Nexu in the room..."

Ah. Tech knew you were going to mention this. His appearance was rushed when you knocked on his door, and a certain item was left on standby, unable to be removed during Tech's moment of panic.

"Tech..." you say with a light laugh. "Why do you have a cock ring on?"

The poor man looks like he's about to burst from embarrassment; his body has shifted to a deep shade of red, all the way up to the tips of his ears. Sweat is forming above his brow, and Tech refuses to make eye contact.

"Well, I-I uh..." Tech stutters, and rubs his hand across his face. "I was... occupied when you knocked on for my assistance."

"Uh-huh," you say with a slow nod, biting back a giggle. "I guess you didn't get around to finishing?"

"Not... yet..."

"I also assume that you were edging yourself?" you question again, and continue biting back laughter when Tech sheepishly nods. "How long for?" you stutter, in awe that you've just discovered a small handful of Tech's kinks.

"I'm afraid I wasn't keeping track of time, but it certainly was... a while," Tech shrugs, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You bat your lashes as you sarcastically reply, "Tech, you poor thing."

Tech casts you a scowl, only for his expression to instantly disperse as you begin to slowly and carefully remove his cock ring. "Let me help you," you sweetly coo, and soon toss the cock ring to the end of your bed, instantly to be forgotten about.

Tech hisses through his teeth as you wrap your fist around his length, now jerking him with ease. His cock is throbbing against your palm, weeping from such minor contact, desperate for release after, what must be, an hour of edging? More? Less? Who knows!

With one hand occupied, the other unfastens the ties of your gown, and you shrug it from your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. Tech instantly flushes again from the sight - you, on your knees, pumping his leaking cock whilst wearing nothing but lingerie. Maker, he certainly has died and gone to heaven, or whatever holy place the afterlife holds.

"Can I take this further?" you question.

Eagerly, Tech nods his head, and mumbles, "please." He then clears his throat, and tries again, "if you would, please."

You barely need to put any effort into your touch. After licking a firm stripe up the base of Tech's cock, and swirling your tongue around the tip, Tech falls back onto the bed and blurts out, "I'm not going to last long."

Biting back a laugh, you coo, "that's alright, Tech. Whenever you're ready."

Poor thing. At least his stamina will be reset when it comes to round two!

You softly run his cock past your lips, pumping the base in time with your thrusts. You're gentle, knowing that he's overstimulated as it is, but it seems even your feather-light touches are enough to make his knees weak. Tech's warning appears as a groan, and with that, the taste of his release appears on your tongue.

Once you're off his cock, you gulp down some water, rinsing the salty taste from your tongue. Tech peers up at you from his debauched state on your bed, and after letting out a deep sigh, he mutters, "your turn."

"Are you sure you're ready?" you say with a soft laugh. Tech eagerly nods, and hoists himself up into a sitting position.

"But first..." his words linger, and are replaced with the sensation of his lips against yours. It's such a tender kiss, so delicate and nervous, barely lasting a few seconds before Tech breaks apart. "I am following your lead, Darling, but I'm certain that you'd like some attention, yes?"

"Mhm," you say with a nod. "I suppose I should turn my stream back on too?"

"Whenever you're ready," Tech consents. With that, you rise to your feet and awaken your laptop. You get your stream up and running again, and as you sit back down on the bed, in camera shot, you ponder on making some sort of announcement.

"I'm... I'm just going to focus on you," you inform Tech. "I want this to be natural, you know? It is our first time, after all."

"And hopefully, not the last," Tech says with a hopeful glisten.

You let out a chuckle, only for your laughter to fall silent as you plant a sweet kiss on Tech's lips. He lets out a hum, and deepens the kiss as his hand comes up to cup your jawline, his fingertips dancing over your hairline.

"It would be nice to rewatch this one day," Tech mutters against your lips, referring to your stream.

"We've barely started," you point out, chuckling once again.

"Ah, yes. About that..." Tech smirks. This time, you're the one being pushed back onto the bed. Large palms grip at your thighs as Tech shifts down into position, spreading you apart. His semi-erect cock is pressed between his stomach and the bedsheets, and you let out a groan as he begins kissing down each thigh, stopping when he gets close, then switching to the other.

One hand moves from your thigh, and Tech pauses his kissing to watch in awe as he hooks his index finger around your panties, shifting them to the side to expose your cunt. "Oh, my..." Tech mutters under his breath.

He manages to wedge the crotch of your panties in the crevice of your thigh, freeing his index finger. It gently runs over your folds, up and down, testing the waters. Once tested, Tech decides to switch his finger out for a more efficient tool, and smiles to himself as he licks a firm stripe along your pussy.

Up and down, over and over. He's teasing you, but in doing that, he's also teasing himself. Tech caves in swiftly, and puts his focus onto your clit, smiling once more as you fall back from your elbows with a moan.

The hand on your thigh tightens, holding you in place, whilst his other hand begins prodding at your entrance. A single digit is teasing you, and if this alone is making you a whimpering mess, then who knows what more will do to you.

Tech soon slips his fingers in, and as he does it, he firmly sucks on your clit. Your thighs instinctively attempt to clench together, and with it, Tech's brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. "Ah, ah!" he mutters against you. "Don't you dare."

"...sorry..." you pathetically whimper.

Satisfied with your meek apology, Tech returns to his task, and before you know it, another finger has slipped into you. They curl upwards, and your thighs begin to tremble again as Tech begins rubbing against that spot, all whilst he's having a sloppy make out session with your clit.

Digging your fists into the bedsheets is doing nothing for you. So, you tangle your fingers in Tech's hair, your chest warming as the realisation that his hair is soft. You don't want to tug hard - how could you do that to such a man?! - but your light pulls are clearly appreciated, as Tech lets out a soft hum in response.

Tension is high, running throughout your entire body, and passing through to Tech. Whilst lying flat on his stomach, his hips are softly moving, grinding his cock against your bed, desperate for some form of relief. However, Tech can wait, and take pleasure in ruining you whilst working on his patience.

"T-Tech, holy fuck," you whine. That's all you manage to sputter out before your first orgasm hits you, your hips automatically rocking against Tech's tongue as he milks your pleasure.

"That's it," Tech repeats, muttering against your folds. He fingers continue to pump away, but as your orgasm ends, so does his magic. He's grinning like an idiot as he removes himself from between your thighs, and licks his lips before wiping your juices off his face using the back of his hand.

"Are you satisfied?" Tech asks, and all you can manage is a pitiful nod. "Excellent, then I will continue to keep my standards up."

You let out a light laugh; every time that you've dreamt about hooking up with Tech, he's always remained formal. That's just Tech, even if your fantasies, and it seems that your dream version of him, is painfully accurate.

Tech crawls up the bed, pinning your body against the mattress. He's sweet as he plants a few kisses on your lips, before moving his focus elsewhere. "As ethereal as you look, I would much prefer to see you bare," Tech gestures to your lingerie.

"Go ahead," you reply with a blush. "That is, if you know how to unclasp a bra."

Tech chuckles, and nods his head. "You underestimate me, Darling."

Shifting into an upright position, you watch in awe as Tech begins undressing you, kissing every surface of your body as each item of your lingerie disappears, one at a time. His touch is tender, loving, and deliberate, motivated by admiration and lust - Tech wants to have your mind spinning before he sheaths himself into you, and to nobody's surprise, his plan is working.

"May I?" Tech questions as he moves his head up to yours, your bodies pressed together, with his cock eagerly twitching against your cunt.

You let out a needy, "please," that has Tech chuckling.

"There's no need to be so desperate, my dear," he coos, and locks his lips with yours. The taste of your afterglow is vibrant on his lips, and you don't mind the sweetness; it doesn't last for long, only a few seconds before your attention is stolen elsewhere.

Tech, with his hands curled around your body, manages to slip his cock into you using only a tilt of his hips. His uncut tip begins to slip into your entrance, and all the wind is knocked out of your lungs as Tech slams into you.

Once fully sheathed, Tech holds himself there, his exceptional mind spinning in admiration. He's oh-so-giddy, utterly love drunk over you, and the fact that he's here - inside of you - has caused his poor brain to short circuit.

Tech reboots, and begins with a calm roll of his hips. Back and forth, he's testing the waters, soon to bring you to the depths with him. "Is this alright?" Tech questions, and smirks when you eagerly nod.

The faster he goes, the more you begin to moan, and it seems your vocals are contagious. Tech is letting out sounds that you've never heard before, but they're bound to play on repeat in your mind for the rest of eternity. He is beautiful, even more so like this - slamming into you, with half-lidded honey eyes gazing over your form, parted lips, and a light glisten of sweat coating his body.

Not to mention his goggles, sitting on a slight tilt on his forehead, a silent reminder of the man that you're getting down and dirty with.

Tech, your squad mate, a friend, is fucking you on camera. He's pounding you silly on the Marauder, 'his' ship, as he calls her; yet, it's not only his ship. The others are meant to be asleep, but you two are most definitely keeping them awake.

"I don't want you to, but you need to be quiet," you painfully protest. As sweet as Tech's mewls are, he's blatantly loud, and it doesn't take a genius like himself to put two and two together. Tech is moaning in your room? Yeah, that's a recipe for teasing from the others.

"I do not want to," Tech replies with a mindless shrug, and an expression that reads, 'and how dare you suggest it!'

"The others will-"

"-That's fine," Tech cuts you short with a small wave of his hand. "I can tolerate their teasing. It's not like I've endured it before," he shrugs, and returns to a quick pace, the sound of skin against skin filling up your room.

His thrusts have your brain short-circuiting, until his words repeat in your mind. "Wait, they've teased you before? Over...?"

"Over you, yes," Tech confirms with a nod. He almost looks embarrassed at his confession, so much so that his hips have stilled again. "I am not exactly timid when it comes to my admiration for you."

"Awh!" you say with a soft laugh. "I've never picked up on anything," you confession, and this time, Tech is the one raising his brow.

"Never?" he repeats, and seems even more taken aback as you shake your head in confirmation. "Well, I'll spare the details for now, seeing as I don't want to confess to all my sins on camera," Tech explains, and trails his eyes over to your set-up, a reminder that you're streaming all of this.

"We'll save it for pillow talk," you agree.

"Pillow talk? Hm," Tech repeats, adding the new word to his dictionary. "Anyway, back to business."

To your surprise, Tech slips his cock from you, his tanned skin glistening with your slick. "Hands and knees, Darling. I have an idea," Tech orders, and watches in admiration as you change your position. "Here-" he directs you, positioning your face in the cameras' direction, whilst he slots in behind you.

Tech lets out a long and deep sigh as he slides his cock in, his hands finding comfort in the curve of your hips. He gives one slow, experimental thrust, followed by another, testing the waters of this new position.

Soon, he begins, but slow and gently, at first. It only takes a few encouraging moans from you to urge him to speed up his pace, filling the room up once more with the sound of skin against skin.

Tech weaves his fingertips in your hair, and with a tug, pulls your head upright. "Keep your eyes forward, Darling," he speaks against your ear, whilst directing your gaze to the camera. "Look into the camera," he orders, and lets out a pleasing hum as he feels you clench around his length.

Whilst Tech's hand returns to your hips, he keeps his body looming over yours, pinning you down to the mattress. His voice remains low and husk, speaking for you, rather than your audience. "Your meek eye contact is a reminder that they will never be able to enjoy you like this, a sensation that I've been craving ever since you were first assigned to our squad."

"Tech?!" you sputter, peering over your shoulder to meet his gaze.

"Ah, ah!" Tech tuts, and directs your sight forwards. This time, he keeps his grasp in your hair, ensuring that you won't stray from his task. "Once again, eyes forward, Darling."

The excessive evidence of your arousal is now dripping down onto your bunk, along with being slathered all over Tech's cock. He lets out a grunt at the sight, and takes pride in the utter mess that he's making of you. Recording everything is a hobby of Tech's, and he's beaming at the fact that you're doing his job for him, with your adorable little set up. Maybe next time, he'll take a recording from his perspective?

Falling down onto your elbows, you attempt to slip one hand beneath your thighs, wanting to set off the final spark in your chain of reaction. However, Tech swats your hand away, letting your hair now fall freely.

"I'll take care of that," Tech informs, and places two warm fingertips over your clit. "You just focus on looking pretty, which I estimate will be a rather attainable challenge, for you."

And with that, he's paying attention to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in a motion that has your whole body trembling. "T-Tech, shit! I'm gonna-"

"-Of course, you are," Tech cuts you short. "Go ahead, I'm right behind you," Tech encourages, and you swear you overhear him mutter, "quite literally," under his breath.

In those few moments, you consider the position that you're in. Do you really need all of these sex toys? Should you dispose of the entire box? None of them, nothing, will ever compare to this current feeling of bliss - this feeling of bliss that Tech has brought upon you. Nothing will ever beat this, so why not stick to this method every single time?

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Tech lets out the neediest moans as he topples forwards, burying his cock to the base, and fills you up to the brim. He's trembling, resting his forehead against your shoulder blades as he rides his high. His goggles are pushed off in the process, falling onto your bed, quickly to be forgotten about.

Tech has to physically peel his body off yours when he finally catches his breath. You're both a mess, utterly debauched, covered in sweat, spit, and Maker knows what else! Whilst Tech rolls onto his back, you take a moment to shut your stream off, mumbling something about having a fun time, and that you'll see your viewers whenever. You'd almost forgotten that the camera was running, and now, you're happy to have a moment alone with your squad mate.

As you lie besides Tech, his hand automatically clings onto your thigh, gently squeezing the muscle. Tech's breaths are finally steadying out, and he licks his lips before opening his eyes.

Warm, alluring eyes meet yours, and for the first time this evening, Tech looks somewhat sheepish. "How... how are you feeling?" he questions.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "And you?"

"Minus the excessive heart rate, and the overwhelming urge to hop into the refresher, I'd say I'm rather pleasant."

"Pleasant?" you let out a chuckle. Tech raises his brow, and soon laughs along with you. "We've just had sex for the first time, and your response is to say that you're pleasant?"

"Well, I am," he shrugs, his eyes lighting up at your giggles. Even now, in this sweaty and unruly state, Tech is still head over heels for you. If anything, he takes pride in his work, and is thankful that you're not the type to get up and leave after sex.

Well, this is your room, but at least you haven't kicked him out.

A comfortable silence fills the air, and you're content just lying there, bare skin against bare skin, coming down from your joint high. That is, until the meek sound of buzzing catches your ears, and you sit upright to question, "what is that?"

The sound is coming from your box of toys, abandoned on your dorm floor. You let out a frustrated grumble as you rummage through to find that one of your vibrators has switched on, and has probably been buzzing away this entire time, the noise drowned out by your shenanigans.

Tech welcomes you back into your bed with an extended arm, and you don't hesitate to cuddle up to him. "You know..." Tech begins, and pauses before continuing. "I could build toys that are far superior to the standard ones that you own."

"Oh?" your ears perk up. "And would those toys be moulded after yourself, Tech?"

The sound of his name flowing from your lips has him turning red at the tips of his ears, but he brushes his feelings aside. "Why do that, when you could enjoy the real thing?"

"Hm, good point..."

"However, I am sure your viewers wouldn't want me appearing in every stream. Still, I can be there in some form," Tech continues. From the soft tilt to his brows, you can tell that he's starting to think things through, happy and eager to improve the quality of your sex life.

As much as you enjoy seeing his brain tick away, you have a secret that will leave him a sputtering mess, and you decide that it's time to reveal your hidden card.

"You seem rather interested in my streams, Tech," you casually comment as you roll onto your stomach. Your hand comes to rest on Tech's chest, aimlessly playing with his soft trail of chest hair, whilst Tech lies back and enjoys the sensation of your body being pressed to his.

"Well, of course," Tech says with a shrug. "I want to encourage all of your interests-"

"-I don't mean like that," you cut him short. With that, you straddle his hips, pinning his body beneath yours. There's an evil glisten in your eyes as you maintain eye contact with a man who is starting to look worse for wear.

"What do you mean, then?" he sputters, and rests his hands on your thighs.

You pause for dramatic effect, then repeat your previous words. "I mean, you seem really interested in my streams," you smirk. "I think I understand now why you've recently spent so much time in your room."

If there were a physical example of 'guilty,' then Tech would be the spitting image of it! All colour has faded from his skin, soon to be taken over by a flustered swarm of redness. The hands on your thighs have swiftly turned clammy, and rather than stray his eyes around the room, avoiding the topic, all he can do is stare into yours as he realises that he's been caught.

"I... uhhh," Tech mumbles. His mouth falls open, only to instantly fall shut as he realises that, no matter what, there is no denying this. Tech has been caught, red handed, and he has to face the consequences of his actions.

But if the consequences are sleeping with you? Then, by all means, scold him as much as you physically can!

"So, you've got nothing to say for yourself, huh?" you tut, and cross your arms against your chest, your breasts bouncing with the movement, which causes Tech's eyes to wander south before returning to your playfully intimidating gaze.

"H-How did you know?" he questions with dry lips.

"Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?" you tease. Tech instantly begins back-pedalling, but you shut his rambling up with a soft wave of your hand. "As smart as you are, Tech, you're not exactly street smart."

"Do explain?" Tech tilts his head in confusion.

You let out a light chuckle, reminding yourself of how you pieced it all together. "Your username, Tech. You set your username to T99. It was so painfully obvious that it was you," you laugh, and laugh even more as Tech brings his hands up to cover his face with them.

"Forgive me," he mumbles into his grasp, causing you to laugh even harder.

"I'm not mad at you," you explain, and pull his hands from his face, returning them to your thighs. "I was actually happy when I noticed that you'd subscribed, which is why I stole your undershirt from your laundry pile. I wanted to drop a subtle hint that I'm into you."

Tech drums his fingertips against your thighs as his brain ticks away. "The hole that you made, was that intentional?"

"Possibly," you say with an innocent shrug. This time, Tech is the one chuckling, now with a more relaxed form - the opposite to how he looked moments ago. "I was surprised to see that you'd joined my stream, and I was kind of praying that things would eventually lead to this."

"Well..." Tech draws out the word as his hands move up to your waist. A gentle tug on them has you pressing your chest to his, and the way that his lips slide against your own has your chest burning hotter than the sun. Tech's eyes remain locked onto yours as the kiss breaks, and dare you mention it, but you can feel his length hardening again beneath your crotch. "...It's a good thing that I subscribed, hm?"

"A very good thing, indeed," you nod before planing another kiss on his lips.

Tech is oh-so-gentle as he rolls you onto your back, pinning your body beneath his. Your lips remain occupied, all whilst your hands roam every inch of him, to his toned biceps, to the cute plumpness of his butt.

Tech follows suit, admiring you in a new, gentler light, with a silent promise that he's far from finished with you.

Only this time, he'll be mindful of his neighbours.

A pair of feet lie relaxed on the Marauder's dashboard, a rare, yet comforting position for a certain Batcher to be in. Echo's eyes are half-lidded, looking down at his datapad, scrolling through the holonews like a father reading the morning paper. He barely looks up from his article as he comments, "the ship's finally stopped rocking."

Hunter perks up at his words, quite literally. The viroblade that he was twiddling between his fingers comes to a halt, and he squints as he questions his surroundings. "So, it has," Hunter soon agrees, and relaxes back into his chair, letting out a deep and long sigh.

Echo sighs with him as he swipes onto another article. "At least they've got it out of their system," he comments.

"Took them long enough," Hunter agrees with a grumble. "We can finally go to sleep," he continues, and looks over to Echo, who seems rather interested in whatever has grasped his attention.

Unfortunately, some people cannot sleep unless under certain circumstances - Wrecker and Crosshair have no problem dozing off, regardless of their surroundings. However, Echo, has regular sleeping problems, and Hunter struggles due to his heightened senses, meaning they have to sit and endure whatever is going on.

"I'll take the first watch," Echo says with a shrug, finally looking up from his datapad to lock eyes with his rather exhausted Sergeant, the bags beneath his eyes being an obvious giveaway.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asks, sheathing his viroblade, eager to get some rest, but not wanting to disregard Echo's needs and comfort.

"Yeah. I've got a few more things I want to read first," Echo shrugs, and returns to his holonews. He softly smiles at the sound of relief that Hunter makes as he pushes himself up from his chair.

Hunter has no effort to argue with his ARC Trooper, and swiftly accepts his invitation. "If you say so," Hunter replies, and says goodnight, heading down the Marauder's hallway, desperate for his bunk.

Echo remains fixated on his reading whilst his hand moves up to flick a button on his earpiece, muting his surroundings. "Just in case," he comments to himself, despite not being able to hear.

Better safe, than sorry!

#behind the screen #tbb #the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #f!reader #smut #female reader #reader insert #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb tech #tech

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🍦 steve harrington masterlist

( LONGER, SERIALIZED OR MULTI–PART FICS, NOTED IF COMPLETE OR IN–PROGRESS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )

🦇 COME BACK TO ME – COMPLETE ( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) ( part 3 ) 🎶 playlist on spotify 🎶 REQUEST -> after steve gets his heart broken by nancy, tommy dares him to try something different as a rebound, someone who isn’t his type at all, and at first he’s doing it to prove a point, but when the upside down gets involved he realizes just how he really feels • 18+ | ( 5.4k – violence / upside down, lots of angst, some fluff, enemies to lovers-ish, steve x reader, king!steve x reader )

🧢 YOU'RE NEVER FAR BEHIND – COMPLETE ( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) 🎶 playlist on spotify 🎶 REQUEST -> when your dad calls and needs your help at home in hawkins you can't say no, but when you arrive back in town you uncover a friendship you thought you'd lost a long time ago | ( 10.5k, angst, fluff, best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, steve x reader, steve x you )

💫 SOMETHING INFINITE – CURRENT IN-PROGRESS 🎶 playlist on spotify 🎶 your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington.

"part one : maybe the world won't end" – steve steals a car and somehow you wind up in hawkins, indiana, a meet cute without the cute  *18+ only |  ( 2.8k, angst, verbal abuse, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part two: perfect on the surface" –  you start your summer job at the library with your aunt only to find your new coworker is someone, an annoying someone, you’ve met before | ( 2k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part three: just wanna see you" –  finally a day off and you’re all heading to the lake to fish and swim and drink and it feels like summer and fresh starts and you’re surprised to find you get one of your own ( 3.3k, angst, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part four: the house that built me" – a history of you and steve and your families, all the broken pieces you’re both trying to gather up and put back together are more similar than you think *18+ | ( 2.3k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader ) // warning note: the themes written about in this piece can be especially triggering – brief mentions of loss of a parent, neglect, unplanned pregnancy, and other heavy content – read with caution please and be gentle with yourselves!

"part five: easier to pretend" – part five of something infinite – are you and steve finally figuring each other out? it’s obvious you drive each other crazy, but is it possible you’re starting to like it? | ( 3k, angsty fluff, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part six: and it's such a shame" – ferris wheel at 8 and another chance to see where this thing with steve is taking you, but when his friends find out will he be able to handle it?  | ( 4k, fluff, lots of angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part seven: i'll promise i'll pinky swear" – steve tries to decide what it is he wants, to keep burying everything down deep and keep it locked away or crack open his chest and trust you with his heart | ( 4.1k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"part eight: say you'll stay" steve did what he thought was right and you're giving him a second chance, but can you both finally open up and be honest with one another? *18+ only | ( 6k, smut, a little angst, a little fluff, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader ).

"part nine: you could have mine" you were unafraid to face steve head on when he fucked up, but now it’s your turn to face the music and it scares you | ( 2k, tiny angst, lil fluff, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

( LONGER FICS, OVER 10K, BONUS CONTENT INCLUDED OCCASIONALLY, STEVE x YOU //  mature content marked appropriately )

"laugh like lovers, kiss like friends" – you’re getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you’d forgotten, but they still burn bright and you have to decide – will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along?  | (  9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

( SMALLER, ONE-SHOTS / BLURBS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )

"tell you when" – steve’s had a type for more than a while, all soft and cute and nancy wheeler and not you, but you’re around each other all the time lately it feels like, have been with each other before and in the heat of the moment it slips out – you ask him to be a little rough with it and it surprises steve how much he wants to please you… | ( 431 words – smut, sprinkle of fluff, friends with benefits to something more? steve x you, steve x reader )

"don't make me say it" – 500 celebration request, you make me want things I can’t have prompt | ( 2k – mostly angst, dumb boi steve, and a little fluff right at the end to take you home, steve x reader )

"i hate you ( not )" – 500 celebration request, love a good enemies to lovers smutty fic – anything works, just lots of sarcasm and name calling to build up the tension • 18+  | ( 3.6k – a nice lil mountain of angst that rolls down into a big ol’ valley of smut, steve x reader )

"good love makes you hesitate" – 500 celebration request, don’t do this here prompt | ( 2.2k – all of the angst, tiny bit of fluff, best friends to lovers, steve x bff!reader )

"eyes half shut" – hawkins high alumni always run the end of year carnival to help raise funds for the school and steve is always in charge of the alumni basketball game, but this year they’re trying out a kissing booth and who better to headline than steve harrington? | ( 3.9k – a little angst, a little fluff, kinda enemies to kinda lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"you gotta help me, baby" – REQUEST -> fluffy one about you having a summer job babysitting and Steve always coming over to keep you company...idc just Steve being a massive simp as always | (  2.3k, modern!day au, fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

"shut up and kiss me" – REQUEST -> fluff prompt #25 "shut up and kiss me” • you get laid off and go back to hawkins for the weekend to wallow with your friends and the gang seizes the opportunity to try and get you two dummies to figure it out | ( 5.7k – fluff, a little angst, mostly fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"this is how it ends" – you went with everyone to kill vecna, into the upside down, and you knew the risks, but none of you thought it would go this far – will you get to tell steve how you really feel before it’s too late? • *18+ only  | (  2.8k, angst, trauma, mentions of blood and violence, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"hold your breath" – you take steve to see eddie and corroded coffin at a little hole in the wall venue, just the two of you, and you find yourselves getting lost in the music…and each other • *18+ only | (  2.2k, smut, fingering in public, tiny bits of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

"all i want for christmas" – steve got you what he hopes is the best christmas gift of all time, but he's nervous and afraid of being soft and vulnerable in front of everyone and what if you hate it, but you don't and it's perfect | (  1.5k, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"i'll hold you together" – Steve goes to a party without you because Tommy’s there and he wouldn’t let Robin and Eddie go alone, but when they get home something’s clearly wrong •  *18+ only  | (  2k, angst, trauma, mentions of blood, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"smoke and glitter" – robin’s been begging you to throw a party down by the lake on your uncle’s farm, like on another level, so you finally give in and who does she drag along? some coworker from the mall and he’s a total dork…right? | (  2k, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"move like water" – it took so damn long, but finally you saved up enough to get your own place, and while it’s nothing fancy it’s yours, all yours, just like steve  •  *18+ only  | (  1.7k, smut all the smut, a sprinkle of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

"where you go i go too" – everyone’s home for christmas break, so steve drags you to a party, but tommy’s there being a creep – steve has to confront an 'old friend' | ( 2.3k, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"endless summer" – steve’s pool is always full during the indiana summers and he loves his friends, but he just wants you • *18+ only  | (  2.8k, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader  )

"lovesick" – during your shift at family video steve notices something’s off about you, you’re not looking too good, so he closes up a little early to take care of you | ( 1.3k, pure fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"have yourself a merry little christmas" – christmas is hard for steve, he hates it, any memories he has are of his parents out of town and spending it with his grandma or alone after she passed when he was 16, but with you it’s different | (  1.2k, sad, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

🛠 COMING SOON!

🌻 NOBODY GETS ME, YOU DO – UNDER CONSTRUCTION when steve started dating nancy and got pulled into the upside down you fell in with tommy hagan after carol leaves for college, but it sucks and tommy sucks and you hate it and you're only doing it because it makes not being with steve hurt less. a friends to lovers line filled with plenty of drama / angst / fluff and smut – smut marked appropriately

"nobody puts baby in the corner" – steve has always been your best friend, nothing more, but when you have a falling out with tommy he finally realizes what’s been there all along •  *18+ only  | (  3.2k, fighting / physical violence, sad, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

"this is how it ends begins" – everything between you and tommy comes to a head after you discover what he’s been doing behind your back, will steve be there to catch you? or will he just make it worse? | (  2.4k, angst, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington series #steve harrington one shot #navigation