I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

Birthday wishes [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it.

second part here!

contents: childhood best friends, idiots who-don't-know-they're-in-love, surprise parties, pure fluff honestly

If you like my work leave a comment or reblog, that would make me very happy!

The first thing Spencer did when he got home was get rid of his converse and even though it had been a relatively calm day he was exhausted, so he went straight to the bedroom to throw himself on the bed. He lay back for a while, just enjoying the calm, and then he fumbled for the cell phone in his briefcase. He hit the call button on the contact he'd wanted to talk to all day and then he waited patiently.

“L/N family residence, who do you want me to contact you with?”

"Hello, is Miss Y/N by any chance?"

"Who's looking for her?" you continued and a smile escaped from his lips. It was usual for you to respond in a silly way when he called you, so he was used to it by now.

"Her best friend, Dr. Spencer Reid"

“Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, I don't think that sounds familiar…” you teased, hearing him snort from the other end of the line “Ah! Wait, I remember you."

“After knowing each other for like 20 years, I hope so” he laughed, and then you too.

Sure enough, the man and you were friends from a very early age. You were his neighbor when he lived in Las Vegas and your parents had always been quite nice to the family, knowing the delicate situation they faced, so it wasn’t difficult for you to become friends. You were the first friend he ever had, a real one, so there was a special fondness between you, even when he had gone off to college at such a young age and distance had subsequently separated the two of you.

You always called each other and every time he visited his mother it was a law that you also received a visit, even if the time was only enough for you to greet each other with a hug. You also traveled to DC a few times because of your work and you even had your own key to his apartment, so if he was busy with a case, you could stay there instead of paying for a hotel. Your relationship was like that of a brother and sister, although as this familiarity grew, it was slightly intervened by loving feelings that you didn’t want to face yet but were definitely there.

You knew a lot about his life from those long-distance calls that happened at least once a week, and right now he was excited about something in particular. He was exactly one week away from his thirty-year birthday, and he hoped that, like every year, you would fly from Las Vegas to see him. It was a tradition, whether it was thunder or lightning, you two hadn't missed a single birthday from the other since he had to move out of state. So Spencer was hoping that this call was for you guys to plan what you were going to do; regularly your birthdays were in restaurants or nice places and his were at home, with food delivery and classic movies, or when you felt very adventurous you could go to a museum or just walk through the streets.

"How are you, Reid? How is everything?"

"Not so good, but not so bad either" he laughed "And you?"

"Everything has been terrible, it's like a curse is on my head, I swear" you complained. Spencer got up from his comfortable position to sit on the bed and although he knew that most of the time you said things like that you were just exaggerating, this time he had a bad feeling.

"Why?”

You started to tell him about the financial problems you were going through and he, with his mind still focused on your visit, thought about offering to pay for your flight to DC, but his spirits fell completely when you told him that you were being put under too much pressure at work.

“We're going to have a meeting next Friday with HR to discuss responsibilities and so on, but honestly I don't think things will get better. Right now I'm working from home because there are pending issues that have to be resolved as soon as possible and I barely have time to think during the day, you seriously can't imagine how busy I've been.”

When you finished the story, he remained silent, feeling his chest squeezed by the direction that things were now taking. With that scenario, your visit was too complicated and he was debating internally about whether he should tell you something about it or not. As he had thought before, the money to have you with him wasn’t a problem, but dealing with the issue of your shortened times was totally different. He didn't want to make you feel guilty for not being able to go, let alone disrupt activities that he knew were important to you, like that meeting you just mentioned. So what should he do? He wanted you to be there, but he wasn't going to make you.

“Crash? You still there?" you asked. Only you and his mother called him that, since his nickname had arisen when he was just a child due to his clumsiness, a trait that, in your opinion, he still retained. It wasn't offensive coming from you, even he was glad to know that this was something that belonged to the two women he loved the most.

"Yes, I'm here. I just was thinking"

"You always do, I don't think there's a single second when that mind of yours rests," you said amused "Anyway, what's new?"

Spencer hoped that you would at least apologize to him for your future absence or ask him what he intended to do today. But you seemed not even aware of it.

“Nothing, really. Today we're done with a case and if I'm lucky I'll be able to rest this weekend” he murmured. Sometimes he would tell you things about the cases, omitting bloody and dangerous details, so he leaned back and started recounting all the events into the speaker of his phone.

You two continued to talk for almost an hour, but the topic of the birthday didn't come up once and Spencer didn't try to bring it up. After all, there were still a few days to go and in the worst case, you could at least call him that day to congratulate him, right?

But as the days went by, the anxiety ate him more and he even called you a few days after that, but he only received a response from your mailbox and after a few minutes a short text message where you explained that you were a little busy with work, but that you would call him as soon as you could. The fact that during those days he found out that the entire team already had something to do on Friday didn’t help his mood too much.

Hotch and JJ discussed a sleepover for Henry and Jack after work, he overheard Garcia and Morgan agreeing to visit a new bar for the night, Rossi said he was going to visit one of his ex-wives and when he thought he could still invite Emily to hang out, she went over to talk to him about the therapist appointment that she clearly didn't want to go to, but had to. There was no remedy, everyone had plans for his birthday and he didn’t want to interfere with them. Resignation was the only thing the doctor had left during the remaining days, and when he least expected it, the entire week had already passed.

He used to wake up to your off-key version of the birthday song and a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, then you'd make breakfast and you'd eat it together; so not having any of that when he got out of bed, he felt his heart break a little. This year he thought he would get your call first thing in the morning, but when he checked his phone he didn't even find a message announcing that there was a case. He didn't want to go to the office to do paperwork on his birthday, but the thought of at least getting a hug from his coworkers cheered him up slightly.

He put on his favorite shirt, a new pair of pants, and the converse that you had given him and he only wore on special occasions, before leaving the apartment. For some reason Spencer enjoyed taking the subway, perhaps more than anyone he knew, and this time he stopped at a coffee shop that was just before arriving to buy something to drink, since he didn't feel like eating anything.

He undertook the entire trip lost in his thoughts and when he least expected it, he was already at the headquarters. He checked his phone, again, but he still didn't get any notifications or missed calls. Many times you had insisted that he get a more modern model and he had refused, but now he was wondering if the advances in technology would have allowed him to communicate with you through a video call. It would be embarrassing to ask Garcia for a favor, so he concluded that he would just wait, after all if he hadn't communicated it must have been for something important.

Upon entering, he greeted everyone with a huge smile and he felt somewhat disconcerted when the others greeted him normally, without hugs or cake on the table. He sat down at his desk to start going through the documents he already had and the others continued on their own business. It was common for Emily or Morgan to come up to him for a chat, but on this particular day it was as if they were avoiding him. Even Penelope, who he swore would congratulate him, seemed to have completely forgotten when he came to her place with the excuse of needing a piece of information from the previous case. When Hotch called him to his office, the man's eyes lit up, believing that his boss had remembered the celebration of the date.

"Can you do me a favor?" he had asked, without taking his eyes off whatever he was writing "Donovan needs to sort some files and honestly he has no idea how to do it and I'm too busy to explain, could you do it?"

Donovan was in charge of the physical file inside the building and it was not usual for him to request this kind of support, but Reid still said yes, and the rest of the day passed with him locked in a cellar full of filing cabinets. He had made sure to take his phone with him and every time he turned it on to check it and he realized that there was no sign of you his disappointment increased. He came to wonder if his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him and, for some incredible reason, he had gotten the day wrong and it wasn't really October 12; but when he saw the calendar, he verified that this wasn’t possible.

“Are you out of punishment yet?” Emily taunted, when after many hours she saw him again by the bullpen. At another time Spencer would have laughed, but right now his mood wasn't quite right for it and he just looked at her, more hostile than he intended. “Hotch left you some documents on your desk, he asked if you could review them before you go. It's urgent,” she informed him.

It was obvious that this would take time and he felt like crying at the thought of having to stay longer than the regular time. It was almost an hour after everyone else had gone home that he finished, feeling somewhat annoyed to find out that even Aaron had already left.

He doubted whether to go home or go to dinner somewhere, because he knew that if he returned to the apartment he would sink into sadness. His birthdays didn't mean anything special on their own, what he liked was to feel loved, to enjoy the company, but above all to see you.

While he was leaving the building, and as if you were reading his mind, a call vibrated on his cell phone. Seeing that it was you, Spencer didn't take more than two seconds to answer, thinking that maybe after the whole day he could improve.

"You won't believe what happened to me!" you said, without even greeting him. It wasn't the kind of sentence he was expecting, but he still decided to listen.

"What happened?"

“There is a boy, at my work, his name is Brandon. Well, Brandon and I have talked a few times now and he seems like a nice person, plus he's pretty handsome and he finally asked me out on a date with him, can you believe it?" you murmured excitedly, and a lump formed in Spencer's throat "We're going out today, the meeting was canceled and we decided to take advantage of the time, but I can't decide whether to wear the red dress or the black and gold outfit that my mom gave me and I need the help of an expert. You have seen both, which one do you think suits me better?

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing the situation she was going through, and it wasn't until you said his name that he reacted.

"I like your red dress," he murmured, with a sad smile that you clearly couldn't see. He couldn't believe you were going out with a man you'd never mentioned and it affected him more than he expected you to be asking for advice because a pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

You were telling him that you were going to have a date on his birthday.

“I thought the same! I guess that will be the best option."

"I guess…"

"Where are you now? At home?" you kindly asked. Your tone almost made him angry.

“I just got off work. I'm on my way to take the subway"

"Oh, excellent. Today there were no cases?"

"Not fortunately. I'm glad to know that the criminals at least respected my birthday."

With that said, there was a deathly silence between you, to the point where he wondered if you were still on the other end of the line or if you understood what he was implying.

“Spencer, my God, I…”

"It's okay if you forgot," he said, trying to play the matter down, but the tears that were beginning to accumulate in his eyes indicated otherwise. The guilty tone with which you had spoken was more than enough to know that, probably, if he hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have done it either "Nobody remembered it"

"I'm so sorry" you practically sobbed "Between all the work and stuff I... I don't even know why I forgot, forgive me”

"It’s okay" he replied. But it wasn't okay. 

“Can I do something to fix it? Whatever, you just… ask me what you want and I'll do it. I swear," you mumbled, sounding desperate.

He tried to convince you that there was no problem with it and you continued to pour out apologies, which Spencer knew were worthless now but he wasn't selfish enough to ignore them. He wanted to scream, cry, or do anything to get that weight off his chest and even though he loved the sound of your voice right now it was the last thing he needed.

“Anyway, I'm about to enter the subway and uh, I have almost no signal there. I'll call you later, okay?" the question didn’t wait for an answer, because he immediately added: "Good luck on your date, bye"

If he had considered going out to celebrate, he knew that now what he urgently needed was to go home or he would break down in tears in the middle of the street. The ride on the subway lasted longer than he would have liked, as he longed to go to sleep and find out if it would allow him to forget a bit about the shitty day he had just had. When he was finally in front of the door with the number 23 in gold letters, he struggled enormously to put the key into the lock, because the tears in his eyes were already clouding his vision, and he believed that the heaviness on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to advance.

The key turned one turn, then another, and then Spencer was allowed inside the house.

One week before…

The team was meeting in the conference room at the request of Penelope, who had asked everyone to stay after the scheduled time, waiting to receive the news of what they thought would surely be a new case.

"And Reid?" Morgan asked, noticing the empty chair next to him, because they had seen him leave and that was reason enough to have questions about his absence.

"I'm glad you asked because this meeting is related to him," Garcia replied. With the push of a button, a face appeared on the main screen and almost everyone present was surprised to see who it was "She is Y/N Y/L/N, do you remember her?"

"You were at Prentiss's funeral, right?"

"That's right" you replied with a smile, looking directly at the aforementioned "I still have a little trouble understanding, uh... that whole thing, to be honest" you joked.

"Y/N asked us for this space to discuss something related to Spencer's birthday, which will be next Friday" explained Hotch, who was the other member who was already aware of the matter "The microphone is all yours"

"Okay, so where do I start? It's great to see all of you and I hope you're doing well. Every year I visit Spencer on his birthday and we spend the day together, but since this year is his 30th birthday I wanted to do something special and I want to know if you would be willing to help me”

"Tell us your plan, precious"

“I don't intend to take up a lot of your time, it's simple. I will call him today to insinuate that this year I can’t go and all I want you to do is pretend that day that you don’t remember that it’s his birthday”

"Wait, why do you want us to ignore it?" JJ muttered with a frown.

"I want to throw him a surprise party in his apartment" you explained with a smile and then the request you were making to them didn't sound so farfetched "You can tell him you have plans that day and if he mentions something you just say you can't go. I bought my flight for that day and I will be in the city starting in the morning, so I can prepare everything”

"And how will we do if he invites us somewhere?"

Morgan suggested using a decoy for him and pretending they were taking him somewhere else, but you balked at the idea.

“I have all my hopes that he doesn’t mention anything. If so, we'll manage somehow. And I know that asking for that is difficult because we are all his friends, but if necessary, avoid him completely that day. We need him to know under no circumstances that we have a surprise for him."

“He is very smart and he will figure it out. If we make him believe that we forgot he will concentrate on that” you argued. Although the others didn't want to admit it, they knew that you had a point there "I just hope you don't have some unforeseen case or something like that, because I would hate for that lie to be for nothing"

You discussed some more until you concluded that your plan was the most viable. The girls would help you with ideas for decorations and David even offered to buy all the drinks. Although the others weren’t surprised by his generosity, you were slightly upset, but this didn’t prevent you from accepting the offer and thanking him in advance.

“It really means a lot to me that you guys help me, thanks” you murmured happily, once everything was settled, and then your phone started ringing in the background “It's Spencer! I have to answer him. If something happens, you guys will tell me, right?"

"Take it for granted" smiled Garcia, who was the one who had lived with you the most, but everyone supported her from the bottom.

"Fine, thanks everyone, thanks Agent Hotch, I'll see you later!" you said goodbye, hanging up the video call and simultaneously answering the phone.

Everyone got up from the conference room and Rossi was the first to speak, a smile on his face.

"Call me crazy..." he started to say "but something tells me that girl and Spencer are going to end up together"

"The pretty boy loves her, but he still doesn't notice it," Morgan laughed, as they all walked out. "Whenever we go to Vegas, his eyes shine when he sees her."

“And she's setting this up for him! It's so sweet" Penelope sighed, who had already taken Derek's arm "But the part about being mean to Spencer doesn't convince me much… he's going to be so sad"

"Look at it this way, babygirl: if he's sad he'll be happier than usual with the surprise."

"Nobody's going to screw it up," Emily threatened them, pointing her index finger at them, and the rest of the team promised they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, your first part of the plan was in the works, with the late-night call he had made to you. You had to admit that lying to your best friend was something you hated, but with any luck it would all be worth it when you could hug him and give him that gift that you had carefully kept on one of the shelves, that you hoped could be enough for such an important event like the first thirty years of life.

What happened during the week is history, which was consolidated at the moment he turned the handle without even imagining what awaited him.

When Spencer walked through the door the first thing he did was turn on the light and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he heard the screams coming from inside. There were purple balloons scattered all over the floor, a congratulations banner, a table full of presents, and everyone was there.

The shock was such that he couldn't even manage to say a word and some of the tears that he had been holding back were finally able to come out, but this time for different reasons.

They hadn’t forgotten.

"How…? What are you doing here?"

“We came to celebrate your birthday, genius,” Morgan laughed, as he reached over to hug his friend and ruffled his hair brotherly.

A wave of hugs preceded that and even he received a couple of kisses on each cheek from Rossi, which finally made him laugh. He seemed like a child, completely fascinated with everything around him and still processing the situation.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help wondering how his friends had been able to enter the apartment, since none of them had a copy of the key and the landlady was too suspicious to have let them in just like that, but he felt happy for the direction the day had taken.

“First of all, we have another surprise for you,” said JJ, obviously excited. The rest shared complicit glances and García began to record with his cell phone, which made him a little nervous "But you have to close your eyes."

Spencer looked at everyone else as if waiting for a confirmation of that, and seeing a couple of nods he did what his friend was asking. Just to make sure Jennifer covered his eyelids with her hands and in this way she turned him around, while he wondered what this surprise could be about.

"Are you ready?" she asked and the man answered yes with a hum. There was silence for a second, as if they were checking something, and then she withdrew her hand. "Open them."

Many possibilities went through the man's mind for whatever he would see at that moment, but when he did, he felt his heart stop for a moment. There you were, looking at him with a sweet smile and wearing that red dress. 

The rest of those present were waiting for who would make the first move, because the two of you had froze looking at each other, and García was only pointing the camera carefully as you had requested.

"Surprise?" you said shyly, noticing that Spencer hadn't said anything.

You were afraid that after the call you had he was upset with you in some way, but a second after he recovered from the shock he was already on top of you, holding you by the waist to spin you through the air while you laughed heartily.

"You came," he said, his voice cracking, but completely brimming with happiness.

"Of course I would, Spencer, do you think I'd miss your birthday?"

"But you... your work"

"All a vile lie"

"And that boy?"

“There was never such a thing,” you laughed, freeing yourself from the weight of guilt “You're my only boy,” you added affectionately, palms planted squarely on your friend's cheeks. He still had you in his arms and was grinning from ear to ear at your answers "I'm so sorry I told you all that, I just didn't want you to suspect anything, can you forgive me?"

"No!" he practically squealed and you widened your eyes in amazement “Today was the most terrible day because I thought you didn't care about me anymore, you made me suffer! All of you!" your friend complained, looking away from you briefly to look at those present.

"In our defense, she asked us to," Emily laughed, holding up both hands in surrender.

"You're so mean," he murmured, turning his attention back to you. "But I love you so much.”

A group sigh filled the room as he engulfed you in a hug and from your position you could see the teasing or tender smiles they all had. It wasn't very common to see the youngest of the team in that position, much less saying those things, plus we had to add the collective opinion that you were madly in love.

"Seriously, forgive me"

"It’s okay…" he whispered close to your ear "You're here, that's what matters"

His body felt so soft and safe that you didn't want to stop hugging him, but you knew that if you took too long it would create an uncomfortable environment for the rest, so you had no choice but to gently pull him away from you. The woman asked your friend, just to annoy him, if he liked his surprise and although he didn't say anything, the giant smile and flushed cheeks were enough of an answer.

"Come, you won't escape my melodious voice" you murmured after a few seconds, when the commotion calmed down a bit.

Taking him by the hand, you led him to the table where you had the chocolate cake with a couple of candles that formed the number 30. Everyone sang the song while the wick burned down and the boy looked anywhere, with that certain shyness characteristic of him. When he blew out the candle to make his wish, you all applauded and that started the celebration.

There were some appetizers on the table and Rossi had stocked all the drinks quite well, as he had promised. As the minutes passed you hovered here and there to check that things were in order, arranging everything as if it were your own apartment, and Spencer could only smile at how well you seemed to get along with everyone. The last time you'd seen the team was, sure enough, during Emily's funeral, but that didn't mean there wasn't some history between you.

He still remembered the feeling of shame when in the early years he had asked Gideon for permission to summon someone to the hotel during a case in Las Vegas. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you, but that he was ashamed of having to reveal something so important in his life to his FBI colleagues. The agent didn't object at all, but that didn't spare the man from being grilled by Derek and Elle about which mysterious lady their younger coworker was talking to. Over the years, people left the unit, and others joined, but the constant was always you. Even now, if a replacement happened, Spencer knew that the rest of the team would take it upon themselves to introduce you to said person. 

At some point he felt a tremendous nostalgia for that time and in a chain of thoughts he came to ask himself if working where he did was the right thing to do. Turning thirty was cause for celebration, but for him it was also tantamount to thinking how well he had lived up to the expectations of what he expected to have achieved at this age: How much progress should he have made in the world by now? Was it any use having that brilliant mind that everyone raved about if he was working in a government office? And what about his personal life? He wanted to get married at some point and wondered if he should be looking for love instead of criminals. Even while he was through all this, he wished he could focus on how happy his friends had made him instead of worrying about other things. 

"Up to here I can see the gears of your brain" laughed someone next to him. It was Emily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he murmured, shaking his head softly "I was thinking about some things, it's just that"

"You should drink some more, that wine that Dave brought tastes delicious" she smiled, inviting him to come closer to the others to chat.

It was a bit ironic, but completely understandable, that even at his own birthday party he would remain a bit oblivious to the situation. Following Emily's advice, he poured himself another drink and joined the other attendees to enjoy the moment. For hours you laughed and chatted, until the drinks were running out and your drunkenness rising.

The parents of the group were the first to leave and the last was a drunk Penelope who threatened to stay there to sleep, but Derek took it upon himself to guide her to his car to take her home. It was late at night when only you and Spencer were left, amidst all the decorations in the room.

"Peace and tranquility"

"It was too much?" you laughed, knowing that your friend could become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.

"No, no. Just kidding"

“And was it okay for you? You had fun?" you asked, referring to the party, as the two of you sat down on the leather couch. The dress you were wearing rose to the top of your thighs and his attention strayed there for a second, so he looked up guiltily; He didn't help the blush on his cheeks that there was your cleavage. 

"Everything was wonderful"

"Are you seriously not mad at me?" you insisted

"No, honey, I'm not," he laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that he had said that to you, since it wasn't something he was used to, and just smiled sheepishly, "I mean, at first I was a little, but now that I understand why you did it, I'm not anymore."

“You are already thirty… you are so old!”

"You are older than me!" he squealed, completely offended, and you responded with a laugh. Although that was true, you looked more jovial than the man, something that a variety of people had taken it upon themselves to verify.

"Now that I remember, do you want to see your gift?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my gift?" The confusion was evident in his voice and you refrained from answering, as you bolted into the room. You came back from there with a box in your hands, which you later placed on your lap with evident emotion.

“I wrapped it myself” you confessed, rather proud of yourself. You had found a piece of paper to cover with drawings of equations and small microscopes that you thought captured the essence of your friend and, of course, now that he had seen it, he had liked it a lot.

The man's fingers drummed the surface under your expectant gaze, and then he winced slightly.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, I think maybe I should open it later…"

"Spencer Reid!" you yelled. It was obvious that he was only joking with you and you knew that by the laugh that escaped his lips. 

Your friend opened the box almost ceremonially and then removed the tissue paper that covered the contents: above all there were two hardcover books, one about the world of fungi and the other about poetry, next to it an hourglass, then three boxes with jigsaw puzzles, a pocket chess game, packets of Reid's favorite sweets, and last but not least, a picture of the two of you in a pretty chocolate-colored frame and a little paper envelope to go with it. One by one he was taking out the gifts and his smile only grew with each object, while he felt his heart grow with love.

"I remember this day" he murmured, referring to the photograph you had chosen. The sky was blue behind you and you were kissing Spencer's cheek, who was smiling at how spontaneous it had been “We were in a park after going to an art exhibition."

“And we bought the most delicious ice cream in the world”

"I differ, I've had better," he murmured, shrugging. The truth is that you thought that the ice cream had been delicious because of the whole panorama of that day, not so much because of the taste itself.

Spencer knew that photo would have to go on his desk in the bullpen, although the taunts he was sure the others would throw at him. Perhaps having you there would serve as a reminder that there was good in the world, despite everything he could see on the job every day. 

“Oh, and I read somewhere that hourglasses help people with anxiety because it's relaxing to watch the sand fall so they can focus on it. I thought you might like it, I bought it at an antique store."

"It's very nice" he agreed, turning the object over and checking that it actually worked "I'll open the note, okay?"

Spencer always preferred that you read his letters in private because if he saw your face and knew you were reading those words he would just cringe, but you didn't seem to share that trait so you agreed to his request. As with the box, he carefully opened the envelope and then pulled out a handwritten note.

I hope you like these little gifts that try to express a huge love.

Never doubt that you are making a change in the world and that you are surrounded by people who love you, including your old neighbor who now ironically lives too far from you. 

Happy 30th birthday to my favorite person in the entire world. I am confident that many more years will come for both of us.

Always yours, Y/N.

"Don't cry, Reid" you asked gently, feeling your own tears at the edge of your eyes. Spencer smiled and leaned in your direction to wrap you in a hug so hopefully you wouldn't notice if he got emotional.

"Thank you" was the only thing he managed to say. 

He wanted to thank you not only for that day but for years of friendship, years of feeling like he wasn't so alone in the world if he had you by his side and even thank you for treating him like a normal kid when no one else did. And as always, you perfectly understood what he was referring to.

You stayed like that for a few minutes; Spencer tucked into the crook of your neck and cooing at the throbbing on your pulse line, and you basking in the warmth of the contact.

“Did you like the puzzles?” 

"Yeah! They are great” he replied, as he moved away from you so that he could observe you “Do you want us to put one together?”

“Sure” you smiled “Just let me put on my pajamas and I'll be right back, okay?”

"Good. You look very beautiful in that dress, by the way. I don't know if I forgot to tell you” he flattered you, making you smile sincerely. 

"You chose it, remember?"

Before getting up you kindly squeezed his cheek and after changing your clothes you returned to where you were. He had chosen the puzzle with the design of a Monet painting and spread it out on the floor, where the two of you settled comfortably.

Your friend took a bunch of pieces and you took another and you guys worked in silence until little by little things started to come together. He was very good at the task and very soon he already had a considerable part assembled; although you were going a little slower you followed a constant rhythm. 

"Hey, Spencer"

"Yeah?" he asked, too intent on finding a place for the piece in his fingers to watch you.

“What was your birthday wish? When blowing out the candles”

"Oh, I didn't wish for anything"

"Why?" you asked confused.

Spencer looked up from the puzzle and smiled at you.

"Because my birthday wish was already right here"

It seemed obvious to him, but it took you a second to understand exactly what he meant and when you finally did, your eyes gave him the sweetest look of all.

You and your friend stayed up all night until the play was over and after that you both stumbled to bed, where you fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

At some point Spencer half-opened his eyes, prisoner of a bad dream, and when he was aware of the situation he felt the peace he needed. After that it didn't take him long to get back to sleep, with a smile on his face and his whole world held in his arms.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

thinking of topper’s gf cheating on him with rafe🤭

Favorite Secret

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, mentions of alcohol, violence, blood, creampie, unprotected sex, P in V, not proofread

Summary: Your secret affair with Rafe almost goes terribly wrong when Topper decides to call in the middle of a hookup…almost

A/N: omg hii!! it’s been so so long since i’ve been on this account but I got a new job and a boyfriend🤭 life has been very very busy the last like year or so but I got the urge to write for my fav boy so I hope you guys enjoy this quick little fic🤍 and I hope all of you are well!

“Fuck Rafe, feels so good oh my god” you cried out, arching your back as your eyes rolled back when his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you. It was fucked up, screwing around with your boyfriends best friend, especially when Topper treated you so well. He bought you everything you asked for, took you on nice dates, held the door open, complimented you. Never did anything to hurt you…until that night, until that one party changed everything.

“Ugh come on Top, i’m begging you to just come for like 10 minutes. If you still don’t want to be there after that we can leave and just come back here, watch movies or something” you’d been begging for the last hour, it was the biggest party of the year and his best friend was hosting but he said he was too tired to go. You knew it was actually just because there had been whispers on the island that Sarah planned to crash it with John B and their new pogue friends.

As much as he swore to you he was over it, you know that wasn’t true and you were fine with it. You trusted him, after all you were the one there for him when she broke his heart the first time, having to be the one to pick up the pieces every single time he gave her chance after chance, you knew what it’d done to him and his trust. Having to risk seeing her there with the guy she cheated on him with didn’t exactly sound like such a fun time.

“Listen I love you, but I really would just rather stay in tonight okay babe? There will be many more parties that we can go to in the future” he said, giving you a soft smile and cupping your cheek with his hand. He could see the disappointment on your face and felt bad, you were obviously excited about this and here he was shutting it down over rumors.

“Okay, whatever you want to do” you let out a defeated sigh and nuzzled your cheek closer into his palm, not wanting to argue over something like this. It just wasn’t worth it and you did enjoy nights in with just the two of you, plus he was right, there would be another party by next weekend.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly, “Okay okay, 10 minutes and that’s it, deal?” he barely got out the last word before you were squealing and throwing your arms around his neck He wrapped his arms around your waist and let out a small laugh, the smile on your face lighting up the whole room.

“Thank you thank you thank you! We’re going to have so much fun okay? You’re not going to want to leave by the time those 10 minutes are up, this is going to be the best night ever” famous. last. words.

Everything was great, the two of you were having the time of your life. Drinking and dancing together, talking with Rafe and a few of your other friends, then you slipped away for five minutes to use the bathroom, 5 minutes. Who knew so much could go wrong in just 5 minutes.

You walked out to see a crowd forming around two people and heard shouting, you’d expected to walk over and see two guys fighting like usual. Both of them far too drunk to even make contact with the other, but instead you saw your boyfriend on top of John B, his fist connecting to his cheek over and over and over again. You didn’t even like the kid but seeing blood and spit fly from his mouth and his gurgled wails of pain made you feel bad and you knew you needed to stop it.

You saw Rafe standing nearby watching, small smirk on his face as his eyes darted from the two boys to his sister begging Topper to stop while she sobbed. You walked up to him and touched his arm to bring his attention to you.

“Y/N! What’s up?” he said it so nonchalantly, like the scene in front of you wasn’t even happening. You knew he hates the pogues, hell you know he’d let John B die right then and there and feel no remorse, but he was the only one you knew had even the slightest chance of stopping it.

“Rafe you have to make them stop, it’s over okay? If you guys wanted to teach them a lesson i think they’ve learned it so can you please make it stop?” you could see him thinking about it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly and eyes going from you to Topper and John B to Sarah and then back to you.

“Mmm, I don’t know Y/N/N…kind of feel like he deserves it don’t you? I mean my slut of a sister cheats on my best friend, your boyfriend, with that good for nothing pogue and then they have the nerve to show up here? To rub it in his face? Why should I stop them?” he cocked his head and gave you a smirk, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his red solo cup full of god knows what. You knew the only way to convince him was to use the one card you knew would work, the one you hated using against him in all the time you knew him.

“Because you don’t want your dad finding out about it. You’re not even supposed to be throwing parties here, what happens if a pogue ends up dead because of the party and Ward finds out? I couldn’t care less if he dies, i’m just trying to save your ass right now so please” you saw his jaw clench, watched his chest start rising and fall slowly, more heavily than before, and you knew it worked.

“Fuck! Fine, i’ll handle it” he yelled before throwing his cup on the ground and walking over to the two, by this point John B was barely conscious and it’s like Topper was in his own world. Rafe walked over and pulled him off by the collar of his shirt before ushering Sarah to attend to her boyfriend, screaming that the party was over and for everyone to get the fuck out.

People quickly dispersed, whispering to each other about what just happened, until it was just the three of you left at tannyhill. Top was still fuming, veins bulging out, sweat dripping down his forehead, chest rapidly heaving, knuckles bruised and bloody, a crazed look in his eyes. You tried to walk up to him to calm him down but it’s like he couldn’t even see you, he instead turned around and walked to his jeep before getting in and driving away, leaving you stranded.

“What the fuck?!” you screamed, standing at the bottom of the driveway watching the taillights disappear as they got further and further away.

You walked back up to the porch where Rafe was waiting, looking awkwardly at the ground unsure of what to say. What are you supposed to do in this situation other than offer them a ride…or in this case alcohol.

“I’m sorry Y/N, that was shitty of him. Give him some time to cool off and he’ll come back to his senses, if you uh, if you want you could just crash here. I would offer to drive you home but you know…” he said, making a brief gesture to himself “i’m kind of drunk so, don’t really want to risk hurting you. There’s plenty of alcohol if you want to just get drunk and pass out in the guest room, the beds freshly made and I think Sarah still has some clothes here that would fit you.”

“Thank you Rafe, that’s really sweet of you. Do you think you could um, stay with me? Just hang out here and talk, drink a little, I just don’t want to be alone right now” you sounded so pathetic, tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.

“Yeah, yeah absolutely”

One drink turned into another and then another, the both of you drunk and giggling while you talked. And then it happened, one little glance at his lips in a moment of shared silence, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear, and you were in his lap kissing him. His hands roaming all over your body until you were pulling away to tell him to take you to the bedroom.

Clothes flying, drunken squeals and giggles slipping out between your moans, the way he made you feel, those were the only things you can clearly remember. And then you woke up the next morning staring at his naked chest, but you didn’t feel guilty for it, instead you wanted it to happen again.

And it did, it happened multiple times a week. Topper did apologize, made up for his behavior that night, but you’d already got a taste of Rafe and now you were hooked. He never suspected anything, didn’t notice the little shared glances between the two of you when you all hung out, the way Rafe’s hand would brush against your thighs, his little whispers in your ear that made you squirm, he was just happy you forgave him. You never thought you’d be at risk getting caught until now, when you were on all fours and Rafe was thrusting into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your hip to pull you back into his cock. The both of you were so lost in pleasure that Rafe almost didn’t hear his phone going off, he quickly moved to grab it off the table and answer it.

“Topper, what’s up man?” your eyes widened, panic starting to kick in. You’d thought it was over, he knew, someone had seen something and told him, he put the pieces together, he was calling to tell him he knew.

“Y/N? Yeah she came by to pick something up, said she left it here the last time you guys were over and she had to be out this way anyway. Think she’s still upstairs” you let out a moan when he thrusted back into you unexpectedly, turning your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. He just gave a a smirk and held his finger to his lips before moving it back to your hip and pulling you back into him to meet each thrust.

You dropped your face into the mattress to muffle any loud moans, pure bliss taking over your body each time Rafe’s cock pressed against that little spot inside your pussy, hoping the call would be over soon. And then the son of a bitch flips you over, puts you on your back and gives you that look. You know, the one that just screams ‘i’m up to no good and you’re about to hate me for this’.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, looking up at him in confusion while trying not to make a sound.

“Actually, she just came down. You wanna talk to her real quick before she finishes up and heads that way?” if looks could kill he’d be six feet under right about now, you shook your head but it was too late, the phone was by your ear and you had no choice.

“Hey baby” it came out shakier than planned and you hoped he wouldn’t question it, it was a lot harder hiding the fact you were cheating on your boyfriend when the man you’re cheating with had his cock buried deep inside your pussy thrusting into you like his life depends on it while on call with said boyfriend.

“Is everything okay? You sound a little winded babe” he was always so concerned, wanting to make sure you were okay at all times if he even suspected something was wrong.

“Better tell him you’re okay princess, don’t let him find out his best friend is balls deep inside his girlfriends pretty pussy” Rafe whispered in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and chest.

“Yeah, just a lot of running around the house looking for my ring is a-all” you stuttered out when Rafe pushed all the back into you again, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Okay…well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? There’s this really nice restaurant i’ve been wanting to take you to, finally managed to get a reservation, and there was something I wanted to talk to you about” you weren’t even fully listening to what he was saying to be honest, you were paying more attention to how good you felt and the smell of Rafe’s cologne, the way his skin felt against yours, how your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly.

“Yea-yeah babe. Sounds great” you were about to let out a moan when long ring clad fingers found their way into your mouth and you, on instinct, bit down slightly.

“Great! I’ll be at your place to pick you up in like an hour okay? I love you”

“Great! Love you too bye” you quickly got out before hanging up and letting out a moan, digging your nails into Rafe’s back.

“Fuck baby i’m close, you want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want a little reminder that even if you’re with him, you’ll always be mine?” you could only nod, small whimpers filling the room.

A few more lazy thrusts before he pushed all the way into you and stayed there, feeling his cock twitch while he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenching around him while you came at the same time, head thrown back and lips parted moaning his name, a white ring forming on his cock from your cum mixing with his. He pulled out after a few seconds and pulled you to your knees before sliding his cock in your mouth.

“Suck it off baby, just clean it up for me” and you did, licking every drop of your cum off his cock before he pulled out and got dressed.

You went to grab something to wipe the cum away when he stopped you.

“Nah, you go on your little date with my cum leaking out of you”

You gave him a dazed look before nodding and throwing your dress back on followed by your shoes, giving him a kiss and heading for the door.

“That was fun Rafe, i’ll call you later okay?”

“I know you will pretty girl, I look forward to it.” the smile on his face was genuine, not one that he had after a meaningless hookup, but one of true happiness. You brought out the best in him and he couldn’t even have you in any way other than this.

“Me too, I better go now. See ya” you were almost out the front door when you heard him yell your name. You turned around to see him leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting to see what he had to say.

“You’re my favorite secret”

🍓lighter // a strawberry wine blurb

In which Max makes the bad days better. bc an anon on cece’s blog was talking about strawberry wine max, and i missed him, and for the anon in my inbox, of course

You’re on your way to yet another Grand Prix, and you’ve had a no good, very bad, terrible week. The travel to get there hasn’t been much better- long flights with screaming children and even more rude adults. By the time you wander into the Red Bull garage, you’re on your last leg.

It’s Thursday night, so you’re not even supposed to be going to the track. The plan was for Max to meet you at the hotel after he was done for the day. But you got there and looked at the empty bed and felt that tight feeling in your chest, so you got a cab and headed to the track. Your pass gets you in just fine on any day. Nobody bats an eye at you as you wander through the sea of Red Bull shirts.

Nobody, that is, except for Max. Max, who spots you even though he’s surrounded by mechanics, even though GP is trying his best to keep his attention on whatever they’re talking about. He sees you and his eyes go wide, and he calls out your name, waving you over. The sea of people parts for you. He holds his arms out wide and pulls you in like a magnet.

“I thought you were going to the hotel,” he says.

You wrap your arms around him, afraid if you don’t he’ll pull away too fast. You shrug and keep your face buried in his chest and will back the tears that fill your eyes. This is what you needed. This is why you’re here.

“Missed you,” you say.

He pries you away from his chest. You blink up at him, knowing your eyes are red rimmed and tired. He frowns and squeezes your shoulders. The way his fingers dig into your muscles melts just a bit of the tension away. Things feel a little less heavy.

“What is it, love?” He asks, brows knit together.

“It can wait,” you tell him.

He turns over his shoulder to GP. “Five minutes.”

“Three,” GP counters.

Max rolls his eyes, throws his arm around your shoulders, and walks away towards his driver room with you in tow. “For that, I will make it ten minutes,” he mutters.

“Max, I-“ you try.

He pulls you into the room and closes the door behind the two of you. Then he pulls you back into his arms. He holds on tight, the way he always does when you’re feeling overwhelmed, like he can squeeze it out of you. It actually works, at least a little bit.

“Talk to me?” He asks.

“You have meetings. It can wait,” you repeat.

“No it can’t. You came here,” he says. “Instead of waiting at the hotel. That doesn’t sound like it can wait.”

“I needed to see you,” you admit. “Had a shit week and a shitty time getting here and then I got to the room and it felt so empty and… yeah. Sorry. I know you’re busy.”

Max hums and walks the two of you over to the little couch. He sits down first and pulls you right into his lap. He wraps his arms around your middle and brings you to lean your back against his chest. You can’t help but settle into him, trying to let the stress melt away. It’s not easy, but he makes it just a little bit more bearable.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I had been thinking all day about how much I couldn’t wait to see you. This is such a nice surprise.”

“Even if I’m…” you trail off, waving a hand at your teary face.

“Yes.” He kisses your temple, presses one hand to your side to pull you closer. “Because as much as I hate to see you sad or stressed, I love knowing that you trust me with it.”

You take a deep breath, then, and let it out in a long sigh. Max laughs softly and reaches for your hand. He wraps your fingers together and squeezes. There’s a knock on the door, and he groans loudly.

“Max,” GP says through the door. “The sooner we start…”

“The sooner we can leave, I know, I know,” he says. You muffle your laugh into his shoulder before he untangled himself and stands up. He leans down and cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’ll be back to get you as soon as I can, okay? And then we’ll go and eat a nice dinner in the room and have wine-“

“No wine,” you say. “You have to drive tomorrow.”

He frowns. “Then you will have wine, and tell me everything, okay?”

You smile softly and nod. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you,” he says back.

You fall asleep on the tiny couch and wake up to his attempt to carry you out to the car. You laugh and loop your arms around his neck, begging him to carry you all the way there. He does, because he loves you, he says. You know it’s true.

astro observations

Accuracy influenced by entire chart.

🪻 Family member w/ a cap venus met his wife at her workplace.

- This placement is generally attracted to polite, well-dressed/groomed people. Partnerships work best when the partner has a steady plan for their future. Cap venus spouses generally are: reliable, humble, and hardworking.

🪻 Taurus Venus+7th H Venus may have relationships (friends, lovers, and business) with lazy people. (lazy is a harsh word but I can’t think of a better one)

- Ex 1. My taurus venus friend had a partner in university who was financially supported by their parents well into adulthood. This resulted in the partner having terrible work ethic. Their laziness resulted in unemployment and lack of ambition in career.

- Ex 2. This taurus venus had a partner who would ask to cancel dates to stay at home. They preferred to spend most of their free time gaming. Very much a homebody.

🪻 Aqua is a fixed sign and I’ve noticed aqua venus people have fixed types physically. And their “type” can often be physically different from them.

- Ex 1. Aqua venus man says he loves to date tall girls. He’s about 6 feet and has only ever dated women very close to his height. And right now is trying to rizz up a woman taller than him.

- Ex 2. The other aqua venus has only dated men from a different racial background than her. The type is “fixed” because the men are always the same race although different than her.

🪻Venus in 9th H woman ik is in a long distance relationship. I know it’s such a generic example of this placement but it’s accurate!

🪻 Gemini Venus friend loves a lil toxicity. Picking fights to get the other person riled up in a fun & loving way.

- This may be a negative manifestation of this placement. Because (generally) this placement is prone to get bored in long term connections. This does not mean that they don’t love their partner or they can’t have a forever relationship. It means partnership work best with partners who have a youthful energy. Someone who is as curious and clever as they are.

- This placement’s likely to have a spouse who is witty, a little devious in their humour but overall intelligent & respectable.

🪻 Not all libra risings have symmetrical bodies. If the ruler, venus is afflicted you may have some asymmetrical features. This does not mean you are unattractive.

- Libra rising w/ venus in scorpio & venus conjunct mars. She has asymmetrical dimples.

- Libra rising conjunct mars. She has had a prominent scar on the left side of her chest from a heart surgery she had as a child. ngl it looks badass. my scorpio venus is intrigued & wld love a scar like this.

🪻 6th H chiron can manifest as becoming extremely critical of oneself. I’ve noticed 6th H chiron people are likely to seriously consider & get cosmetic surgeries.

- Person A w 6th H chiron in gemini is open to their circle about having rhinoplasty (nose job). They aren’t ashamed and I’ve seen them give info and joke to those who are curious/interested. Ex: Joking that “you should try learning to contour your nose before spending so much”

- But Person B has 6th H chiron in scorpio. When they had their cosmetic surgery done, they only told those who it was necessary to tell. Like the people who would be taking care of them in their recovery. They have told me they joke to their social circles that they’re just a late bloomer to avoid speculation.

🪻 As a scorpio venus, it is nice to see our loyalty being constantly recognized and appreciated. However, that is such a generic analysis of this placement. Often people seem to forget that Scorpio deals with possession and power dynamics.

- Ex: Scorpio venus man asked for a one sided open marriage from his wife after she has their first child. This allowed him to see other women but she was not allowed to see other men (nor did she want to though). She was incredibly hurt but did not want to be a single mom. And she did financially rely on him as well. This is a negative manifestation of scorpio venus. Instead of loyalty, there were toxic power dynamics at play.

🪻 Ruler of 10th in 7th. I’ve noticed these people can mainly become known for who they are dating or dated.

Ex: This can manifest as having a partner who is more social or popular in their social circles.

Ex.2. It can be negative as people may gossip about your relationships for their entertainment.

🪻 Gemini 7th house can experience getting friend or sister/brother zoned.

🪻 Venus opposite Uranus indicates someone will suddenly end their relationship with you. This can be someone you’re dating, a friend or family. It may even be getting fired from a job since venus is connected to money.

Some may find that people repeatedly surprise them by cheating, leaving or ghosting. There may be some behaviour or pattern within yourself that you must confront for this to end. For others, it may happen once and it will hurt by at least it can be a lesson learned or karma cleared.

Grand Gesture | eddie munson

summary: catching feelings for your best friend was never in your plans. when you start distancing yourself from him to protect your heart, eddie vows to do everything in his power to keep it forever.

“Come over for dinner tonight?” Eddie asks, trying to sound natural but maybe not being quite successful. “Wayne misses you, you know.”

It's a lie and he knows it — not that Wayne doesn't like you, far from it, but Eddie is painfully aware he's the one who misses you the most. He feels like a part of him is missing. His uncle, on the other hand, is a man of actions more than a man of words, and judging by the way he always ordered your favorite pizza flavor when you'd come visit Eddie, or how he'd give an understanding smile whenever Eddie did so much as mention your name, it was safe to say he considered you as much family as he did Eddie himself.

But that was before. Eddie now has to be quick if he wants to talk to you between classes. Most of the time you're no more than a blur to him — the ghost of his childhood best friend.

You look up at him very quickly — as if your eyes would burn if your gaze lingered too long, even — and you shove some books out of your backpack into the locker with little care. You smile, but Eddie knows all of your genuine smiles and this isn't one of them.

“Uh, well, I can't today,” you say. "Sorry."

"Tomorrow?"

"Busy too."

You seem to be calculating an escape route as you look down the hall. Eddie feels terribly pathetic when he asks again, "What about next week?"

“I have a test next week, I'll have to study.”

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

Eddie doesn't remember any tests happening the following week. He twirls a ring around his finger nervously and tries to convince himself that it might be from a class of yours that he doesn't attend.

“Thanks for inviting me anyway," you close the locker and smile that same smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Say hi to Wayne for me, okay?”

“...sure.”

You're leaving once more. Eddie feels panic rising in his throat, swallows hard, and says, before he can stop himself, "You're still going to The Hideout on Tuesday, right?"

Tuesday. It was something you and him had agreed on a while ago; Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout every Tuesday and most Tuesdays you'd go see them, but if you couldn't make it every time, the deal was that you'd go at least once a month. And you hadn't been there for the last three Tuesdays, which made this your last chance to keep your promise.

You look over your shoulder at Eddie, saying, "I'll try." And wave before rushing off to your next class without looking back.

He immediately knows you won't come; it's remarkable how much distance you've managed to put between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

On the other hand, you know you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday.

Not because you have an appointment you can't reschedule or because you've already made plans you don't want to miss…but because being in love with your best friend feels awfully like getting a thorn into your foot. You could go weeks without seeing him, slowly forgetting the thorn was there…and then you'd just spend 2 minutes with Eddie and the damn thing would re-enter your skin three times deeper.

So no, you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday, you decide. Watching Eddie play guitar wouldn't do you any good.

And you don't go. Not this Tuesday, not the next, not the one after that. Time goes by too fast but somehow the days seem to drag on terribly. And then days become weeks, weeks become months. Well, month, singular, but Eddie feels like he's lived a lifetime during the time you're not talking to him. It certainly feels like months.

36 days. Not that the two of you are counting. Definitely not.

Eddie is sitting on his throne in the middle of a Hellfire session, babbling his lines and running the campaign almost robotically, when he thinks of you again. The Eddie from before, the Eddie who still had you in his life, would have been ecstatic as he awaited the day to share this campaign with his little sheep around this very table. Now he's having trouble keeping track of what's going on.

He remembers the general idea; a curse, some monsters, an object capable of saving the world that lies in the power of a female elf the party has to find and convince to help. Yada, yada.

It's the third time he's lost himself inside his own head.

"Dude!"

Eddie looks at Dustin as if he's just been slapped. "What?"

“You're being ridiculous. Just talk to her."

"How dare you-"

Dustin realizes Eddie is about to go on a rant about getting out of character mid-session. He's not sure where all this courage is coming from (maybe it comes from the fact that he really cares about his Dungeon Master's happiness) but Dustin reaches out and lowers the screen in front of Eddie.

“You gotta go find your elf, man,” he says, encouraged by the murmurs of agreement rising from the others in the room. "Like, right now. Looks like your world is coming to an end.”

Eddie has an answer on the tip of his tongue as he looks from face to face and back to Dustin's.

"I'm the Dungeon Master here, Henderson." He doesn't care if he sounds defensive or silly or if the other boys will realize he's purposely pretending not to understand what his friend means. He doesn't care in the least.

“Oh, for God's sake,” insists Dustin, apparently the group's representative now that the subject is Eddie's personal life. "You know very well I'm talking about her."

Eddie makes a move to lift the dungeon master screen once again in hopes of ending the conversation. Dustin pulls it out of his grasp with little care.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

“You should go after her, man,” suggests Lucas, very quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, working up the courage to say something when Eddie doesn't say anything. “Believe me, it took some time to figure out my feelings for El, too. But at least I got it at some point, you know.”

“A grand gesture is what you need,” Lucas adds with newfound confidence. "It's what I do when Max doesn't want to talk to me."

He cowers slightly when Eddie looks at him, an appraising brow raised. Dustin is nodding his head emphatically in agreement, though.

“We want our Dungeon Master back,” Gareth says, trying to lighten the mood.

There is a silence that seems to last for years. Then, not quite realizing what he's doing, Eddie stands up, nearly toppling his throne in the process, and pretty much jumps toward the door.

Behind him, the boys shout words of encouragement and whistle with exaggerated excitement.

Grand gesture, huh?

"You should ask Eddie to go to the movies with you."

"Mom," you scold for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, helping her into her coat.

"I just don't like leaving you home alone."

"I'll be fine. I'm practically an adult now."

Of course, you are. The discussion is not about that and you know it. She knows it. But none of you say anything. This conversation has played out several times in many different ways over the past thirty days, and it doesn't look like she's going to stop insisting anytime soon.

Your mother gives you her best puppy dog eyes. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes!" You emphasize, gently pushing her out the front door and smiling as convincingly as you can. "I swear I will. Now go have fun!"

She smiles and kisses the top of your head affectionately.

"Lock the door behind me, okay?"

You do. But you might as well have left the damn thing open, because two minutes after you lock it and just a second after you sit down on the couch, you hear a knock.

You run to the door, key in hand.

"Mom, did you forget something agai-"

But it's not your mom.

"Eddie," you mumble, voice barely a whisper.

It shouldn't be possible, but he's right there in front of you, hands in his pockets as he looks at your face with a nervous smile.

"Hi," he says, voice husky and warm just as you remember.

You feel like your heart is about to find its way out of your rib cage somehow.

Clearing your throat, you finally find your voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hellfire?" you ask.

"I left halfway through the session," he says, as if that explains everything. Eddie Ditching Hellfire? When you don't say anything else, standing there looking like you want to slam the door in his face, Eddie quickly adds, "Can I come in?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"We need to talk."

"It's not a good time," you say without looking at him, a little upset because, damn, how are you supposed to forget a guy who keeps showing up?

You start to close the door slowly, almost without realizing you're doing it.

Eddie puts his foot in the gap to stop you.

"Please," he begs. "Ten minutes?"

No, no, no. Say no.

Cursing inwardly, you step back and let him in. "Five."

You gesture for him to sit around the small kitchen table and lean against the counter, keeping a safe distance from him, your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest.

You ask him if he'd like something to eat or drink and he denies, hating how he's become a guest at your place, an outsider, someone you no longer have that familiar intimacy with.

You're staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing you'd ever laid eyes on. "What did you want to talk about?" you ask.

Eddie places both hands on the table, twirling the rings around his fingers anxiously.

"I want…I need to…." he licks his lips and looks at your face, trying to turn thoughts into words and not understanding why it's suddenly so difficult to do so. "Why do you suddenly hate me?"

You can't say you didn't expect to hear a question like this at some point. That doesn't mean you don't get slightly lost when you actually hear it, though.

"I don't hate you, Eddie."

"You didn't talk to me in weeks, you didn't come to see my band," he holds up a finger as he points out each of your actions, "you run the other way whenever you see me in the school hallways…"

His gaze diverts to the space beside you.

“Christ, you even ripped our picture out of your fridge, apparently,” he lets out a completely humorless chuckle, a hint of sadness behind the irony you know all too well.

You look into the empty space he's indicating and suddenly feel guilty. A picture of the two of you the first night Eddie played at the Hideout with the band used to be there.

"I don't hate you," you repeat, silly. "I'd never hate you."

"You don't even look at me."

"Of course I do." You weren't looking until now, but you force yourself to do so even though it's hard. There's something very intimate about looking Eddie in the eyes, you think, something awfully familiar. "I'm looking at you right now."

"Yeah. For 2 seconds, I bet."

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, take a deep breath, and try to keep your thoughts clear.

"Did you come all the way here to tell me to look at you?"

"No," he says. "I came all the way here to say I miss you."

A very long time passes without you saying anything, your chest rising and falling faster than usual. Eddie realizes he's surprised you.

A spark of happiness you shouldn't feel warms your heart. You try to smother it.

In a small voice, he insists, "Don't you miss me?"

Your heart screams yes, but you don't say anything. Eddie stands up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor sounding alarming to your ears.

“We've been friends for…what? Twelve years? And you're going to tell me that you've simply decided that you don't like my company now?”

“Eddie,” you finally say. "Stop."

You uncross your arms, using your hands to lean against the kitchen counter behind you instead, fighting the urge to run. Whether in Eddie's direction or the opposite, you're still unsure.

"Why? So you can go back to erasing me from your life again without saying anything?” he asks, putting the chair back in place before moving towards you. “You can say it to my face, then. Say you hate me.”

"I don't hate you."

"You certainly don't like me."

"I-"

“Or think of me.”

“I never said-”

"If you tell me to leave now, I swear I will and I won't come back," he promises and you know it's true. But then, slower, lighter, almost whispering, he adds, “…but that's not what I want.”

You should tell him to go away, to leave. You know he won't give up if you don't tell him to do so, but you can't bring yourself to be cruel to him, not even to protect your own heart.

So instead, the spark of hope becomes a flame inside your chest and you find yourself asking, “And what do you want?”

For a good five seconds, Eddie looks at you like he's facing a crossroads. Then he comes closer and places his hands over yours, one on either side of you, any definition of personal space momentarily forgotten as he moves his face closer to yours.

“I want…,” he begins, and it's thanks to the way you can feel each word that leaves his lips that you're made aware of how close you are, that you're between him and the kitchen counter. That he's about to kiss you. “I want to-”

His forehead rests against yours, his eyes slowly fluttering closed. The words he wants to say never make it past his mouth.

He is about to kiss you, right?

“Eddie-”

Eddie leans back just enough to consider the expression on your face, eyes big and brown and warm.

"You want me to go?" he whispers.

“No,” you're not surprised at how quickly you respond. Your hand slips from under his to brush a dark curl out of his eyes. "I broke our promise, though."

"It's okay."

He leans in. You feel his lips at the corner of your mouth and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'll go to every single one of your gigs from now on-"

“Please,” he begs, a distinct hint of affection behind his words. "Stop talking."

"What you're doing?"

His upper lip touches yours. You can feel his reluctant smile when he says, “A grand gesture, I hope.”

And then, Eddie closes the gap — your breath catches the very moment his mouth meets yours, his kiss gentle, slow, a step too big to be taken all at once. He leans in and you feel his chest against yours, one hand sliding to the small of your back and pressing you even closer, another moving up your arm, over your shoulder, to the crook of your neck and your jaw. He holds your face and you sigh against his mouth, your lips parted invitation enough for him to deepen the kiss.

And God, being kissed like this does feel like a grand gesture.

He tastes exactly like you thought he would and somehow entirely different at the same time — something familiar, something safe, but also something new and fiery and wonderful.

You're breathing heavily — Eddie not much different — when he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispers. In the silence of the empty house, it's more than enough. “Please tell me you want me to stay, sweetheart, 'cause I have no fucking idea how to stay away from you.”

You're still coming to your senses, all too aware of the hand he keeps tightly on your waist, of the gentle movement of his calloused thumb against your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile the most genuine smile he's ever seen on your face.

“As if I’d ever let you go after this, Munson.”

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

.

.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.  

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

.

.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

.

.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

.

.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

.

.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.  

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

.

.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

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.

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For Science | S. Reid

Plot: Spence asks you to teach him the one thing he doesn’t know, and can’t exactly learn on his own. Your best friend since college finally wants to better understand female anatomy, specifically how to please it. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Best Friend Reader

Contents: Smut, New York, a lot of dumb banter between them, etc. BAU team! Love confessions. Spencer is dumb, but so is the reader lol.

________________________________________________________________

Reid wasn’t hard to read for you, you’d known the boy since he was 18 and working towards his doctorate. Granted, you were also 18 and just beginning your bachelor's, but that’s besides the point. He’s recently joined the BAU, and if what he tells you is true, he’s doing pretty well for himself. (Reid is terrible at telling lies to you, you call them out every time.) Hailed “boy genius,” and “pretty boy” by his coworkers. Spencer almost cried with you agreeing with both nicknames, even going as far as to pick up pretty boy for your own use. 

Since you know Spencer so well, you know immediately that his inviting you to New York with his team is odd. There’s something he’s not telling you, it’s clear throughout his entire demeanor, but you don’t push him too much. If it were just a normal vacation, Spence would’ve planned it all out weeks ahead of time. What you guys would do, where you would go, how long you’d spend in one area, the best restaurants in the local area, the least busy times to go sightseeing. He’d have it down to a minute-by-minute playbook in his head, not a second difference. So when you ask, “What’re we gonna do there?” 

And he replies, “I dunno, New York City things?”

It’s immediate red flags, sirens, and wailing in your head. Skeptically, you agreed nonetheless. Packed your bags, got on the plane, dealt with awkward introductions and banter between you and Morgan over the use of pretty boy, and lastly learned Hotch is more intimidating than Spencer lets on when telling you stories. After a suffocating plane ride sitting across a table from Hotch, you finally feel like you can breathe when you and Reid enter the rental. A cute little apartment-style rental with an open layout, cute décor, and very healthy plants in the window. Sitting down with cold water from the fridge, leaning back on the comfortable couch, you really feel like you’re living the New York City life. 

“I need you to teach me how to please a woman.” It’s fast and rushed, Spencer, spewing out his words before he has a chance to rethink them, maybe bite his tongue for the entire trip. 

Your water is spitting out, a couple of drops landing on your chest and the rest in your hand. You’re lurching up in a coughing fit in no time, setting the bottle down as you struggle to clear your windpipes. “You want me to what?!” Looking over at him, Spencer is just about as nervous as when he first asked if you consider the two of you friends. Nervously playing with his hands, shifting from side to side on his feet, diverting his eye contact away from you. He readjusts his clothes, a signature button-up, tie, and cardigan over it with basic dress pants. His feet are clad with his signature black and white converse, forcing you to remember how young he actually is. Loosening his tie, he swallows hard. There’s no hint that he’s joking, no tug at the corner of his lips after he tells a joke that normally doesn’t land right. 

“I’m not joking.” Yeah, no shit Spencer. “There’s this girl, okay! I’ve been reluctant to tell you because I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. She’s beautiful, Lila is her name. On a mission once, she said she really liked me. And we kissed and cuddled, and uhm, grinded, but that's it! I didn’t want to go too far because I was nervous!”

“You’re seeing her while we’re on our trip, huh?” You’re in disbelief. You can’t exactly say you’re surprised, as you knew Spencer was hiding something when he invited you onto the trip in the first place. However, this isn’t the secret, withheld information you were expecting. He nods his head, read like a book and he knows it. He offers you a: tonight, actually through his embarrassment. “Ugh, fine. FOR SCIENCE, only for science. Whattya wanna know? I know you probably have some sort of plan.”

“Yes, yes. For science, only.” His grin is shit-eating, you know him so well. He pretends to think, recalling all of the questions he’s memorized in that brain of his. “What feels the best for women? I took multiple anatomy courses in college, so of course, I know where the labia majora is, and the minora, and the clitoris, urethra, vulva, vagina, G-spot is. I read that most guys are too rough, or they rub the wrong areas such as the labia minora. I also know that some women can come from internal stimulation, but not all are able to or it’s being done wrong. What feels good, and what pressure feels good for women? How do I get her excited, too, you know? In movies, when they begin kissing they rush and throw their clothes all over the floor and leave a trail to the bedroom-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You interrupt before he gets going too much and talks you into a coma. “Being good at things, especially with sex, comes from experience and knowing what she likes and doesn’t like. Everyone is different. Morgan likes to be flirted with and what about you? Do you like it when girls hit on you and pull on your tie?”

“No.” Spencer gives you a definite answer. 

“See? Everyone is different. What does she do when you’re together? Maybe that can give you some insight that you missed, because as smart as you are, you’re bad at reading signals.” Spencer knows you’re right, moving to sit next to you on the couch. 

“She likes to be close, skin-to-skin contact I suppose. Which usually spurs from-”

“Spence.” You interrupt him. 

“Right, right. She likes when I hold her head in my hands, and gently hold the back of her neck. She really, really likes to kiss my neck and jaw. Doesn’t really like being rough with me, at least. Maybe it’s because I’m not super strong, afraid she’ll uhh, break me, ha.” He jokes, earning a small smile from you as you nod, acknowledging the small joke. “I just don’t know when to move on, I don’t want to move too quickly and scare her or hurt her.”

You can’t help but sigh, throwing your head back softly. “You have to read her cues, Spence. Watch how she reacts to you, what sounds she makes, what sounds she doesn’t make.”

“So I go off her cues? Body language, micro expressions, I can do that! I’m pretty good at that!” Spencer smiles hard, nodding his head. “So we kiss, hold each other close, heavy petting, and just go from there. I want to please her first, though. Make her have an orgasm first before we move on with anything.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” He’s dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth. His eyes blow wide, brows immediately raising with them. It feels as though his mouth has run dry. Spencer fixes his hair, nervous, as he pushes some curls back behind his ears.

“To show you, unless you and uhm, Lila are official. Then forget I asked. I just figured it’s easier to show you than it would be to try and explain with words.” You shrug, trying to play it cool and not die from embarrassment in front of him. Spencer has a blush spread across his face as he nods, eventually making its way up to his ears. Leaning in, you gently press your lips against his, hands quickly finding their way to his hair. It’s awkward at first, Spencer not knowing how to respond as his hand meets the side of your face. “Relax into it, Spence.” You coax, placing your hand over his, encouraging him to relax it and slowly form it to the contours of your jaw. 

He does, lips becoming much softer as they slide against your own. Your fingers find their way into his hair, gently pulling at the nape of his neck, forcing his head to tilt back. A small groan slips past his lips before he has a chance to stop it. “That's it, Spence. See, you gently do something, and see how they react to it. If they don’t like it, don’t do it again. If they do, now you know.” You give him more advice, teaching him. 

“If I want something, and they’re not making a move to do it, how do I ask?” Spencer asks, voice weak and soft as he mumbles against your lips. “Without being too pushy, I mean?”

“You just ask nicely.” You shrug, “Try it.”

“Can you, uh, can you sit on my lap? If you’re comfortable with that.” Spencer asks shyly, avoiding your eye contact. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, swinging your leg over and seating yourself. His brows push together, creating a small crease in between his eyebrows. He’s cute like this, pretty with his hair tucked behind his ears. Your chest press together, Reid’s hands hesitantly resting on your hips and back as he pulls you closer. You lean into it, pushing your chest into his own with a small hum. 

“You want to keep going?” You ask softly, one hand resting on the side of his head as the other re-tucks his hair behind an ear. Your lips meet once more, this time more needy and desperate as they slide against one another. “You can ask her if she wants to keep going, too, as I did just now.” You mumble into his mouth before reconnecting your lips. 

“This okay?” Spencer asks softly, hands sliding underneath your shirt. His cold hands meet your warm skin, goosebumps created in their wake. Your tongue catches in your mouth, unable to talk as you nod to answer his question. He hikes your shirt up, easily slipping it over your head and placing it gently on the couch next to the both of you. Such a Spencer Reid thing, you briefly think as you peck his lips once more. Placing your own hands underneath his cardigan, you wait for his nod before removing it, moving to the buttons on his top. Spencer's chest heaves, nerves setting in. 

“This okay?”

“More than okay. Amazing, actually. Splendid perhaps.” You can’t help but giggle, softly kissing him as you finish unbuttoning his top. “Skin to skin now, I’d recite whatever fact you were about to say earlier but I didn’t let you finish.” You giggle, pressing your cleavage against him. Reid smiles, a fond feeling in his chest that he can’t quite place. “Pretty boy.” You beam hard, the image of Spencer underneath you, flushed pink, slender fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips, lips bright red from kissing. 

“Please...don't.” Reid almost whimpers underneath you, hips jerking up into your own. “Do you want…want to continue?” It almost isn’t a question, a rhetoric one maybe. 

“Of course, Spence.” You hum softly, holding onto his shoulders and slowly leaning down. Spencer follows without a hitch, slipping in between your legs as your thighs wrap around his waist. His hips gently grind into yours, testing the waters with you. He easily draws out a small whine from you, encouraging him to continue. Grinding slightly harder, you whine louder. He’s picking up your advice quickly and learning quickly. “You can… take off my pants.” You mumble, now your turn to blush underneath his gaze. He does, once again setting them neatly on the table beside the couch. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, how do I make sure you’re ready?” He asks, ready to learn once more as his hands rest on your hips. “I know kissing is an arousing action, but there’s more, right? Kissing on your jaw, neck, chest, hips, and erm. Uhm, erm, oral sex?” 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You mumble to him, shrugging softly. “We can just kiss and grind if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“No, no! I want to. I mean, I want to learn from you. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Reid is quick to explain, fingertips digging slightly into the skin underneath them. “Please…can I?” It’s needy, whimpering as he holds your hips. 

Taking one of his hands, you gently place it onto your chest, watching as his mind absolutely melts as he holds it in his palms. You nod softly, encouraging him to continue. “Fuck.” Spencer whines, leaning over at his hips as his lips connect with your jaw. His lips are hot against your skin, leaving light marks in their wake as he makes his way to your chest. Your soft moans spur him on, every now and then he lets out a content sigh at your pleasure. Spencer's fingers slink around your back, easily popping open the clasp. 

“That easy, really? Are you sure you need my advice, Reid?” You accuse, smiling softly. 

“It’s a simple clasp, gimme a break.” Spencer draws, making you laugh. He easily shuts you up as his lips meet your chest, sucking softly and nipping on the sensitive flesh. A small yelp escapes before you can hold it back, Spencer licking over the bite to soothe the pain. It feels good, better than you thought it would. Encouraged, and slightly more confident, he continues his trail down your stomach. “This alright?” He asks, hooking one index finger underneath the side of your panties. 

“Yes, Spence. More than okay.” You nod, watching the nerves flash across his face. “Hey, I’ll tell you if you do something wrong, not wrong. Something I don't like, I suppose. Just so you can get an idea of what to do.”

“I know you will.” Spencer smiles up at you, finally sinking down to his stomach in front of you. The sight alone makes your breath hitch, catch deep in your lungs somewhere. Maybe if you were luckier you could’ve got him before Lila did, confesses to him before he actually got serious with her. Shoving it aside, for now, you focus on the pretty boy currently between your legs. Slowly, as if he’s afraid you’ll jump away, he pulls down your panties. Spencer bites softly into the inner sides of your thighs, leaving dark marks in his wake. Whimpering, it takes everything in you not to beg for him to continue. 

“You’ll be nice to me, right Spence? No teasing?” You whimper, allowing your hands to slide down to meet the back of his head, curls slipping through your fingers. There’s a glint in his eyes that you almost miss, pupils blown wide as he peers up at you. “Pretty boy will be nice, hm?”

“To you? Always.” Spencer smiles, licking along your core experimentally. He watches your reactions closely, finding what you like and what you don't. He finds what feels right for him too, and finds what gives both of you the most satisfaction. Reid can’t help but grind into the couch beneath him, involuntarily groaning into your clit as his tongue flicks across it. 

“Fuck…fuck Spence. You’re better at this, than you let on.” You whimper, voice catching in your throat as you speak. Spencer is better at this than you thought, eating you out as if he hadn’t had a meal for months. Sucking, slurping, and groaning into you as if he had just crossed a desert and you were the first oasis he’d come across. His jaw flexes with each movement, brows pressing together in concentration. You’re not expecting him to take initiative, sliding a slender finger easily into you. You gasp, pulling harder on his hair, closer to your core. 

“You’re so whiny, whimpering underneath my touch,” Spencer speaks, more of a tease rather than a statement of fact that he’s so accustomed to. This also catches you off guard, so used to him stating facts. You can’t stop whining as he slides another finger inside of you, curling and hitting all of the right spots. Maybe the anatomy classes are paying off. He works out his speed in no time, pressure, timing, roughness, everything with watching your reactions. “Like this, hm? Like me touching you like this?”

“Yes, Spence. Like it a lot.” You pant, clenching hard around his fingers as he hits all the right spots, never removing his mouth from you either. “Are you, are you gonna let me cum?”

“Fuck, I want nothing more,” Spencer mumbles, continuing with his actions. 

“Just a bit more, yeah? Almost there.” You encourage him, teetering on the edge as you focus on the feeling. Glancing down, the sight alone sends you over the edge. Pretty face buried in between your thighs, eyes peering up at you with need, hips involuntarily grinding into the cushions underneath him. You cum hard, moaning his name loudly as you do. Spencer continues until you physically can’t take it, thighs threatening to sandwich his head in between them from how sensitive you were. “Fuck me.” You mumble, hands reaching to pull him over you. 

Your lips meet roughly, almost crashing into each other as they connect. You can taste yourself on his lips, moaning softly into his mouth from how dirty it was. “Do you have condoms?” 

“Yea-Yeah, in my bag.” Spencer nods over to his bag that sits in the kitchen island, sat aside when you both got in. You basically scramble from underneath him, on a mission to retrieve them. 

“You gotta lot of shit in here.” You giggle, rummaging through the contents before finding them. With a satisfied grin, you walk back and present your findings. “Can we continue, Spence?” You're back on his lap, hovering slightly above his lap so you don’t ruin his fancy dress pants. He nods faster than his brain can fully comprehends your words, which is quick. With a small smile, your lips softly reconnect as your fingertips meet his waistband. You easily pull a soft gasp from him, focused on feeling your way around as you unbutton and unzip them. “Lift your hips a bit.” 

He follows without question, allowing you to slip them down so they rest on his thighs. Finally, you’re able to seat yourself on his lap, both of you moaning from the much needed friction. Your hips move on their own, humping slowly against his own as you melt into the kiss. “Here, let me.” Spencer mumbles against your lips, hand softly brushing yours as he takes the condom from you. Pulling back, you slide down a bit to allow him access to his boxers. Watching with wide eyes and a salivating mouth, Spencer easily slides his boxers down his hips, tearing the condom open with his teeth. 

“You know, you’re not actually supposed to do that because it can rip a hole in-“ You begin, almost mirroring how Spencer goes on his rants. 

“Shhh,” Spencer grins at you, “You’re starting to sound a lot like me.” The grin is shiteating, making your cheeks blush pink. Once the condom is on, he’s pulling you against him once more, fingertips roughing digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “I'll let you lead, princess.” Spencer speaks softly, making you quite literally ache. 

Slotting your lips together, you allow yourself to grind down onto his cock, getting a feel. Reid whimpers underneath you, sliding between your folds with a wet sound accompanying it. “I’m gonna start now, yeah?” You ask, mind feeling fuzzy with the close proximity. Reaching down, you pump his cock a couple of times before lining yourself up, slowly beginning to slide down onto him. You could cum from Spencer’s whines and whimpers alone, face scrunched up tightly as he bites down on his lower lip. Once you’re fully seated, you allow yourself to reach forward, tangling your fingers in his hair as you kiss him. “Do you like this, pretty boy?” You coo at him, allowing yourself to slowly slide up and down his cock. 

“Mmmm, maybe, maybe not.” Spencer whines as you fully slide back, seating yourself once more in one swift roll of your hips. 

“What’s the probability of that answer being maybe?” 

“Pretty fuckin high.” 

It hurts, the way his cock batters your walls, filling you so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach. Hurts how his fingers dig into your hips, helping you move up and down the length of his cock. Hurts how pretty he is underneath you, chests pressed together, lips brushing everyone and then as you moan into each other’s mouths, hair slowly becoming untucked. Hurts how he’s going to do this with another girl within the next week. 

“I’m close, Spence.” You mumble, involuntarily clenching around him as you catch his gaze. You press your chest more into him, tug on his hair slightly harder. “Please let me come, please.” You whine, finally breaking eye contact as your head falls into his shoulder. He picks up the slack as your thighs start to slow, legs exhausted from moving. He snaps up into you easily, forcing moans to slip past your lips that you try to muffle into his shoulder. “Bit more, just a bit.” You whine, thighs beginning to shake from how bad you need it. You have to pry one of his hands from your skin, gently guiding it to you clit. Thanking all the gods, Spencer understands immediately. 

“C'mon princess, let it go. Cum around me, cum for pretty boy.” He coaxes, lips brushing along your ear as he speaks. And you do, immediately, catching you off guard as you shove your face into the crook of his neck. You want so badly to sink your teeth into him, bite the soft skin underneath you but you don’t for respect of his previous engagements. “Gonna cum, okay?” Spencer asks, waiting for you to nod before allowing himself to. His hips thrust up into you sloppily, both hands once again digging into your hips to help guide down. 

“Please Spence, cum in me.” His hips drive up into you, grinding hard as he does. Spencer’s hands squeeze your hips so hard you’d be surprised if there weren’t bruises, making you whine. “Fucking hell, pretty boy.” You groan, finally catching your breathe as you pull yourself from his neck. It’s a sight to see, Spencer’s face so prettily fucked out underneath you. You kiss him, much more tender and soft than you have before, more loving than desperate this time. 

“Thank you…for teaching me.” Spencer speaks, awkwardness cutting through the air from his words. 

“Oh, of course. Any time.” You fake a grin, slowly beginning to move off of his lap. Your legs hurt as they support your body weight, legs still shaking slightly. You’re shifting through the clothes that are in various places, jokingly tossing Spencer his whenever you come across them. Spencer’s climbing to his feet soon after, buttoning his pants back up. “Also, don’t forget aftercare. Some girls love it, some don’t, so just play it by ear.” You give your last bit of advice, shrugging slightly. 

“Right, do you want to do that or?” Spencer asks, words coming out more awkward and dismissive than he meant to. 

“Nah, it’s alright. I'll be fine without it.” You smile, beginning to get re-clothed. “I’m probably going to take a shower and pick a room, you get the leftovers. I call first dibs.” You stick your tongue out at him as you make your way to the hall, on your way to find the better room and claim it with your belongings. 

“What?! That’s totally not fair, I invited you on the trip!”

“Finders keepers!” You laugh, slipping into the larger, nicer room of the two and immediately looking to door behind you. Your heart breaks with the awkwardness between you that you’re trying to cower up, breaks more than he’s getting ready in the other room to go on his date. You’re just getting out of the shower when there’s a series of small knocks on your door. 

“Hey,” Spencer stands on the other side, eyes accidentally looking you up and down in your towel. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out, you can order takeout if you’d like. I’ll leave my card on the coffee table in the living room for whenever you’d like.” He’s thinking hard about something, you can tell as he seems distracted as he’s talking to you. You’ve already gotten over the Lila thing, telling yourself that it’s not your business in the first place. 

“Thanks Spence, have fun on your date!” You smirk, reaching out of your door to jokingly punch his chest “Knock ’er dead.” He only offers a half hearted laugh, nodding before turning and making his way back down the hall. Odd, but not so odd you’d openly question him. Maybe he’s just nervous before his date? You brush it aside, continuing on with your little night routine that’s otherwise unaffected by todays festivities. 

You make your way to the living room after Spencer leaves, order takeout, put on a show while you wait, do a face mask, the whole 9 yards. Your peaceful night is interrupted as the front door opens, scaring you half to death as you jump to the other side of the couch. “Spencer?! What are you doing home, YOU SCARED ME!!” You scold, clutching your chest. He doesn’t answer, just immediately pulls you in to him, kissing you as if he’s starved. “Hold on, hold on?” You ask, pushing his shoulders slightly away. “Did the date not go well?” You ask.

“There was no date, we met up and I told her I didn’t want to continue seeing her.” Reid answers in the most matter of fact tone possible, making you laugh. “She told me I’m a dick and stormed off.” He shrugs, diving back in to kiss you. 

“Okay, but why? Am I missing something?” You once again break the kiss, Spencer looking at you as if you were the dumbest person alive. 

“Because I think I love someone more.” He kisses you again. 

“ME?!” 

“Geez, finally you get it.” 

Your poor takeout grows cold on the doorstep, hours ticking by. Spencer’s determined to understand how to please a woman, in all positions, ways, methods, and modes possible. “For science,” Of course.

How Bruce Wayne Is On Your Period

This is really just meant to make me feel better tbh- lol kill me

He won't tell you, but he knows that it's starting 

like come on- the mood swings are terrible, you get more violent on patrol (you put Joker in the hospital for a few days), you're quicker to be snide towards shady business partners, you cried when you dropped a cracker and then went right back to normal, like seriously 

When you start to get bad PMS symptoms, you don't do patrol for the week

It's hard to control feelings, thoughts, and painful cramps while fighting crime

You're basically on probation from patrol

You and Alfred make a lot of food (or Alfred makes it happily and you devour it)

Bruce tries not to stay away during patrol for too long since you start to worry about him and he really, really worries about you when you're not feeling well

He makes sure to bring home lots and lots and lots of chocolate and meds if that's what you need

Goes to your favorite bakery and gets a massive amount of whatever you want 

Makes sure that you get plenty of water

like all the water because it helps so much 

Is totally fine with you raiding his closet for any sweatpants and massive t shirts

doesn't care if there's blood anywhere or if you ruin a set of sheets

he's a billionaire, it's not a loss 

he makes sure you aren't uncomfortable or if you need space, that you have it but you know that he's there when you need 

Sometimes being around guys when you're on your period is gross and idk why it's just like ugh get away from me you trash bag 

speaking of trash bags, if anything grosses you out or starts to make you feel icky (even if it usually doesn't), he totally removes it from your presence 

for me, it's cheese and weird or strong smelling things 

or anything that looks slimy or too rough *bleh*

If you're ever feeling bloated or just really really gross, Bruce is the hype man

"no gorgeous, you're stunning, exquisite, perfect, amazing, I'm in the presence of an angel babe." he'll spin you around and press kisses all over you 

"No, don't say that about yourself, you're so pretty, you're not gross."

I mean he's like this all the time, but he'd definitely play way way into it if you're feeling down

If you're married and wearing a wedding ring, he gets the ring custom made to be adjustable incase you fingers swell 

I can see you expressing something nasty about yourself like that you hate a scar or you feel like you're stupid or something and he'll start crying when you start crying 

like don't say that dude it's not nice to yourself 

You feel like a sweaty hog because your body is pushing out blood and tissue 

you're going into mini labour, leave yourself alone

When you can't sleep, he pulls you very tightly into him and plays with your hair 

braids it into a hundred tiny braids or brushes it 

anything that relaxes you

you probably have a treasure trove of comfort movies and tv shows and if you can't sleep or just want to watch something, he'll happily stay up with blankets wrapped around the two of you and watch whatever

rubs your back and makes sure that you're taking pain medicine every few hours to stay in your system 

sometimes when he's working in the cave and you're lonely but not feeling good, you'll wrap yourself in a large blanket and sit on his lap, head against his chest while he works

He thinks you're like a cat and finds it adorable 

You basically turn into a cat for a week and maybe some change and he finds it very very funny

makes sure that there are no galas or any meetings that you have to deal with

plans events and meetings around your periods to make sure that when you're on it, you don't have to deal with high society because they make anyone's blood boil (no pun intended)

When you get mad or start crying, he doesn't take it personally at all and just lets you get it out

sometimes laying in the fetal position for a few hours and falling asleep is the best thing that can happen for periods and he will happily cuddle you the entire time, even if it's not the optimal position for cuddling 

he tries to stay as neutral as possible on subjects when you're on your period so that you don't kill someone because he seemed equally as unhappy 

trust me, period mood swings are incapacitating, it's not a snarky thing, it's just so so sosososoososososoooooooo bad

please don't talk to me when I'm in my mood swing phase, I'll accidentally insult you and then cry about it later or decide never to talk to you again 

Local villains will not pull insane shenanigans while you're on you're period because they're terrified 

Terrified. 

if batman has to call in the calvary, its the calvary call out of hell

You're busting skulls and taking names the entire time 

Bruce is scared, the villain is scared, everyone is terrified of this blood thirsty being that wants everyone to be in as much pain as they are

Bruce knows that the world is insufferable and being super hormonal and feeling disgusting and being in pain doesn't help ignoring that fact, or even just living with it

He just wants you to feel better 

Bruce gets sad when you don't feel well 😂

Garden of Secrets [40] - Laurel

A.N: The last 3 chapters! ❤️Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤️ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think❤️

Summary: An engagement ball can be followed by an unexpected surprise.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of threats.

Word Count: 3000

Series Masterlist

Technically you knew planning an engagement ball was bound to be stressful, of course you did.

But from the way Lottie was treating it, you were beginning to think it was a life-and-death situation.

“Lottie you do realize you didn’t have to come here to make sure me and Ben are coming to the engagement ball?” you asked “Don’t get me wrong, I’m always glad to see you but there is no way we’d miss it. No matter how much Benedict whines about you and Anthony getting married, he’s actually happy for you.”

“Oh I know!” she said as she sat beside you on the bench. You were in the garden, enjoying your book in the gazebo after having spent hours in the greenhouse while Benedict was busy with his painting in his studio. “I cannot stay long because I must go to the Bridgerton House but before that, I figured I could come here and give you this.”

She put the wrapped rectangular box that she was holding into your lap and you tilted your head.

“What is this?”

“This is sort of a thank you for accepting to be my maid of honor,” she said, making you smile.

“Lottie, you really shouldn’t have…” you said as you unwrapped the box and held your breath when you saw the chocolates. “I take it back, I’m glad you did.”

She let out a laugh as you hugged her and pulled back to look at her better.

“It’s my privilege to be your maid of honor,” you said as you popped a chocolate into your mouth and offered her, but she shook her head.

“I feel as if I’m in the most pleasant dream,” she whispered like she was giving you a secret. “I never thought Tony would love me back and the funny part is—”

“He never thought you’d love him back?”

“Yes!” she said. “Can you believe it?”

“I absolutely can,” you said with a laugh, then reached out to hold her hand. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you!”

You grabbed another piece of chocolate, then chewed on it.

“So are you very excited for the engagement ball?”

“Very tense, more likely,” she said. “I hope everyone will like it.”

“Of course they will,” you assured her. “And you’re not doing it for them, you’re doing it for you.”

“That is something I must repeat to myself a lot, yes,” she said with a sigh. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy about the wedding and such but I’m also happy for the time I’ll get to be alone with Tony after all this.”

“I know how that feels,” you said, smiling slightly and she looked around.

“Benny is in his studio?”

“Mm hm, painting.”

“I must go but you must give him my regards.”

“You don’t want to say hello to him?”

“I’m not going to interrupt him while he’s painting, he might lose focus,” she said and stood up, then kissed you on the cheek. “I will see both of you tonight?”

“Cross my heart,” you said and hugged her. “Tell the family I said hello!”

“Will do!” she said and walked away, and you looked back at the house before making your way there. You hummed a song to yourself, still carrying the box of chocolates, and climbed the stairs, then walked down the hallway to approach the closed door of the studio.

You only hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door, then stepped back.

“Yes?” Benedict’s voice carried outside and you smiled slightly.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, is there something terrible going on there?”

The footsteps came closer, then the door opened halfway, letting you see him and you repressed a grin. He looked handsome as always but there were traces of paint all over his hands and his white shirt, and his hair was tousled as if he had been running his hands through it the way he always would when he was stressed. You tilted your head.

“Did you lose a fight with the canvas or something?”

“I’m winning actually,” he said as he gave you an excited grin and you leaned sideways to the doorframe, then held up the box.

“Do you want a chocolate?”

“God yes,” he said and grabbed one to pop it into his mouth. “Where did this come from?”

“Lottie dropped by, she didn’t want to interrupt you while you were painting,” you said. “She brought me chocolates to thank me for accepting to be her maid of honor.”

Benedict blinked a couple of times. “Wait, we get treats for that?”

“I got treats for that,” you corrected him. “You’re the best man, what did Anthony give you?”

“…A speech.”

You clicked your tongue. “Ah well, that sounds like the consequences of your choices.”

“He’s my brother, I honestly did not have a choice in that,” he said, eyeing the chocolates. “How come you get chocolates and I get a speech?”

“Probably because I’m nicer than you,” you said with a grin. “There’s no other explanation here.”

“Mm hm, I’m sure.”

“So the painting?” you asked, standing on your tiptoes to sneak a look inside but he tut-tutted, blocking your view.

“Not yet.”

“What’s it about?”

“You’ll see,” he said. “Y/N, I can’t explain, I…ever since that night, it’s like I’m more inspired than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

You could feel the warmth spreading inside your chest and you shifted your weight, letting a smile pull at your lips.

“And yet I cannot see it?” you asked, nodding in the direction of the room and he shook his head.

“Not yet, but you will be the first person to see it once it’s finished.”

You hummed, pretending to be in deep thought. “Do you promise?”

He smiled softly, then leaned in to brush his lips against yours, making you heave a happy sigh.

“On my honor,” he said. “You’ll see it before anyone else.”

“Very well, I guess I’ll leave you alone to work on it,” you said. “Just don’t forget, we must be at Lottie and Anthony’s engagement party before eight o’clock.”

He made a face. “After Anthony’s huge speech about responsibilities, how could I?”

“See, the speech was useful,” you pointed out, and walked away from him, popping a chocolate into your mouth. “But chocolates are still better!”

                                                    *

You had to admit, though you knew Lottie and Anthony’s engagement ball would be beautiful, even you did not see this coming. Every single guest looked like they were having so much fun while Anthony and Lottie seemed like they were in their own happy bubble, as if blind to anyone else in the ballroom.

“Anthony a married man…” Colin murmured as he sipped his drink while Eloise shook her head. “Now I know the world is coming to an end.”

Benedict grinned. “You do realize what it means right?” he asked. “Mother will focus on only you two the next season.”

“This is your fault, you know?” Eloise asked and Benedict tilted his head.

“How is that?”

“First you, then Daph…” she tilted her glass in Daphne and Simon’s direction who were talking to Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton on the other side of the ballroom. “And now Anthony. Even Colin almost got married this season!”

“The season of scandals,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders and Colin heaved a sigh.

“Has someone put the whole family under a spell I wonder.”

“Not me,” Eloise said. “I remain to be the smartest among you all.”

Benedict pushed her shoulder with his in a joking manner. “Does this mean you’re not looking forward to the next season when you will have so many suitors to entertain, El?”

“You take that back!”

“I’ll help you threaten them,” you assured Eloise. “Don’t worry. Eloise before I forget, do you want a knife?”

“She does not want a knife,” Benedict answered in a haste before Eloise could. “I do not trust her with a knife.”

“I second that,” Colin said and Eloise leaned in so that she could whisper into your ear.

“Please tell me you’re getting me a knife.”

You winked at her and nodded, then sipped your drink.

“When we return to Aubrey Hall in two weeks, we will have nowhere to run,” Eloise said. “I mean I can’t stay at your house because you two are sickeningly in love, and so are Daphne and Simon, and now, Anthony and Lottie. Where am I supposed to go to in order to see no romance?”

“It is a challenge,” you said and Colin shot you a look.

“Did you miss the part she said you two are sickeningly in love?” he asked. “I mean you’ve always been but lately it’s even…it’s different, it’s much more than before.”

You and Benedict exchanged glances and you pursed your lips to hold back your grin while Benedict ran a hand over his mouth to keep his expression straight.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he managed to say and Lady Bridgerton raised a hand to motion at them to come over. Eloise heaved a sigh and looked up at Colin.

“Come on,” she said and Colin downed his drink, then they both made their way to her. You looked around, standing on your tiptoes.

“Have you seen Josie?” you asked. “Or Andrew, or Bess?”

“Not yet,” Benedict said. “I’m sure they will be here soon.”

“Hello you two!” Lottie’s cheerful voice reached you, making you turn around. She threw herself into your arms and you hugged her tight, smiling wide. Anthony grabbed the glass from Benedict’s hand and took a sip, making him frown.

“Get your own God damn glass!”

“Every time any footman makes his way to me, someone pulls us into a conversation,” Anthony said, still holding Lottie’s hand with his free hand. “I swear to you, I couldn’t even eat anything yet.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re taking my glass—”

“I’m the oldest, that’s why.”

“This is your engagement ball!”

“I could give you my glass Tony,” Lottie said like a melody and Anthony pressed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“No need my love.”

“Everyone has so much to tell us,” Lottie told Benedict. “So much advice about marriage too, it’s rather overwhelming.”

“Probably they’re still waiting for you to wake up and see the light and change your mind about marrying him Charlie, the wedding is next week so it’s not too late—”

“Benedict!”

“I mean he stole my drink, is this really the type of person you want to grow old with?” Benedict motioned at Anthony with a grin while Anthony rolled his eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m still working on your wedding present by the way,” he told her, making her gasp. “It should be ready by the time the social season is over.”

“You got us a wedding present? Aw Benny, you shouldn’t have!”

“Yeah well, if you can’t fight it…” Benedict said with a shrug but the happy grin on his face told a different story than his pretend nonchalance. Lottie pulled him into a hug, and he hugged her back.

“Congratulations to you both by the way,” Benedict said as Lottie pulled back, “In case I forgot to say that. I really am happy for you.”

“That is uncharacteristically mindful of him, is this your doing?” Anthony asked you and you let out a laugh.

“I’d love to take credit but no.”

“And how is it going with the plan—” Anthony started but cleared his throat when Benedict shot him a look. “The plan with the…the art thing that you uh—that you do?”

You pulled your brows together. “Hm?”

“I have this plan for a new painting,” Benedict said. “It’s going quite well brother.”

“Keep me informed about that, will you?”

“Sure—”

“Oh isn’t this the happy couple?” A lady you didn’t even know touched Lottie’s arm. “Do you two mind if I borrowed them?”

“Of course not,” you said and Anthony heaved a dramatic sigh while Lottie squeezed his arm as if trying to console him.

“We will see you later,” she said and both Anthony and she followed the lady to the small crowd on the other side of the ballroom. You pressed your lips together to hide your smile, then looked up at Benedict.

“What plan?”

Benedict turned to you. “Hm?”

“What plan was he talking about?”

“I told you,” Benedict said with a shrug of his shoulders, then held out his hand. “Just the painting, that’s all. A dance, my lady?”

                                                *

By the time the ball was over, it was almost dawn. Lottie looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion, so you gave her a quick hug, then you and Benedict told everyone else you would see them the next day and -which was technically today- and got on the carriage.

“Is it just me or was Andrew a bit distracted?” you asked while the carriage moved through the street and Benedict thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Probably because Felix wasn’t there?”

“Maybe,” you murmured and rested your head on his chest, letting out a small groan. “I’m so tired.”

Benedict buried his nose into your hair, throwing his arm over your shoulder so that he could hold you tighter.

“At least they’ll have their wedding before we all go back to countryside,” he said. “I wouldn’t be expecting any other ball from them for at least next season.”

“Because they’ll be very busy?” you asked with a grin and he made a face.

“Yeah yeah… Please don’t remind me.”

“What are you getting them as their wedding present?”

“I’m going to paint their portrait together,” he said as you pulled back to look at him better, your jaw dropping. “And send it to Aubrey Hall because I honestly think when I see my sweet Charlie as Anthony’s wife, I might just—”

“Stop with that, I was there when you told them you were happy for them,” you said with a laugh. “So is that what you’re working on then?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ll get to it once I’m done with the painting I’m already working on. It’s about to be finished.”

“And I’ll be the first to see?”

“And you’ll be the first to see,” he said with a mischievous smile before kissing you, and the carriage came to a stop. Benedict got out of it and helped you out, and you both started walking to the house, still holding hands.

“So everyone is going back to Aubrey Hall in two weeks then?”

“Well everyone but us and Daphne,” he said as you two climbed the marble stairs leading to the house. “I forgot you still haven’t seen there, or our home in the countryside.”

A warmth spread inside your chest and you took a deep breath.

“But we’re moving all the flowers from this greenhouse to the countryside house?” you felt the need to ask and he nodded his head.

“Of course. Might be a little time because the greenhouse there still hasn’t finished but I was thinking,” he said as you both reached the door and walked through it, entering the foyer. “Maybe we could get some and put them in the house and once the greenhouse is finished—”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” the butler’s voice reached you and you both turned your heads to see him approach you. “There’s a note for you, it arrived a couple hours ago.”  

“Thank you,” Benedict said, taking the letter from him and you tilted your head.

“Just now?” you asked. “That’s not very common, everyone is asleep. Who’s it from?”

Benedict ripped open the envelope to read the note, a grin curling his lips as he got to the end of the lines, and let out a breath.

“Oh thank God, finally.”

“What?” you asked and Benedict lowered the letter, then gave you a soft smile.

“My love, I haven’t been the most honest with you I’m afraid,” he said, making your heart skip a beat and you pulled back slightly, a frown pinching your brows together.

“About what?”

“Me and Andrew, remember we talked the other night?”

You nodded your head, still frowning.

“Well you said your parents didn’t even know Josie was here, but that they were blackmailing her about that letter.”

“Yes?”

“So it got me thinking, if they didn’t even know she was here, there was no reason at all why they would bring the letter with them here.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh… I suppose?”

“So we sent someone to the countryside to go find that letter in their house while your parents are here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Someone we can trust—Anthony knows him, that’s what he was talking about today,” he assured you. “And I told him to take the letter to Andrew and give it to him directly, no one else, but to let me know immediately so…” he held up the note. “He apparently found it and wrote to me that he would wait for Andrew to come home so that he can deliver it in person.”

You could feel the shock taking over your whole mind and you tried to wrap your head around it.

“…You mean to tell me—”

“I mean to tell you that there’s nothing at all they can use against Josie and Bess,” he said. “And they’re not going to hurt you, or Josie, or Teddy. Ever again.”

A relieved laugh spilled from your lips before you flung yourself into his arms and he caught you to hug you tight, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Ben, I don’t know what to say,” you managed to mutter, still in disbelief. “Thank you, you…you didn’t have to help—”

“Your family is my family,” he said. “Of course I will help however I can.”

You looked up at him and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you,” you said and he gave you a lopsided grin.

“I love you too,” he muttered and leaned in to brush his lips against yours again, making you smile. “In this life and the next, darling.”

Chapter 41

careful what you wish for // sam and colby (pt. 4)

A/N: first off, terribly sorry this came out so late. i've had a hectic last couple days, and didn't get to finish this fic up until tonight. and sadly, this the last thing i'm posting for my 13 nights of halloween. it's crazy to think that this is finally over. to anyone curious i will be getting back to answering asks by tomorrow. i'll also be writing up my review of hell week, and any other random things i had planned to write about/review before my 13 nights. also, i know so many of you have been waiting eagerly for this next installment, so sorry for the long awaited update. but hopefully it's made better by this fic. happy belated halloween, and happy haunting !

prompt: sam and colby have left you high and dry, so now you've resorted to possibly hooking up with a coworker at an event. but sam and colby will be having NONE of that. || vampire!sam and demon!colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SO MUCH SMUT, manipulation via powers (surprise! it's not you this time), fucking in a public, fucking with a crowd watching, the crowd is also all of your coworkers, dumb business shit that i know nothing about bc i went to school for theater and work in retail lol, fourth wall break (spooky), cursing, degrading language, being bit but no blood drawn), mentions of: princess, baby girl, baby, slut, whore, called a fleshlight once, unprotected sex (but no fear of getting pregnant bc they're supernatural), gets a bit dark and possessive towards the end, heavy use of MINE and OURs, snc own you so…. if you don't like that don't read,

word count: 7077

~~~~~~~~~

It was Halloween night, and while you usually looked forward to Halloween, this night was a bit different. The company you worked at was having their annual 'Final Fiscal Quarter Party'. The higher ups agreed that it would be easier to throw it during October, rather than in December. Individual offices could throw their own then, but the main, big event was happening tonight.

Your company rented out a huge hotel ballroom. There was catering, a local DJ playing some family friendly tunes, and a stage where awards were going to be given out. You had been to a couple of these events over the years, but they were always very... boring. You would much rather be at home, snuggled up, watching a scary movie.

Or maybe getting fucked by your... boyfriends? It was hard to describe the relationship you had with Sam and Colby. They used you, but you used them. It was a very symbiotic relationship in that way. But currently, you weren't really too keen on them.

You considered hitting up your old friend, Jess. She was the one, after all, that magically brought Sam and Colby into your life. You hadn't talked to her in a long time. It could be because she still blamed you for the book permanently shutting and ruining her dating life forever.

She could bitch all she wanted, but she wasn't the one being stalked and fucked by a demon and a vampire.

You had grown a bit tired of Sam and Colby, their antics, and their overall ability to flip your world upside down. The sex was great, obviously. But at what cost?

Not to mention, they hadn't spoken to you, or showed up, in months. You were going through a bit of a dry spell, and hated the fact that they hadn't answered your calls. So, it did cross your mind to get rid of them. Permanently.

But that was an issue for another time. Right now, all you had to focus on was getting just drunk enough to enjoy this stuffy party, but not too drunk that you get messy.

And that came a bit easy for you. Across the bar, a handsome man smiled at you, giving you a nod as you accepted his drink. You could see his paper nametag said Brian, and you hadn't recognized him from your own office - so he was a safe bet. God knows you weren't the only one trying to hook up with someone tonight. Plenty of colleagues from different divisions were going to be getting crazy tonight. It was an inside joke amongst the company that this night was usually a fuckfest.

You gazed over at Brian, admiring his silky quaffed hair and great suit. He had a lovely smile; one he shot your way over the glass of whiskey he had in his hand.

A man like Brian seemed... dependable. A good choice for a significant other. Boring, basic, Brian. Maybe that's exactly what you needed. Something steady and settled. Not... supernatural.

Yeah, but could you ever fuck a man like Brian? A man like him could never fulfill your needs. You could hear Colby's voice in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip from your wine glass. No. Brian might seem a bit basic on the surface, but who knows? Deep down he could be a sex god. Maybe he was packing some serious heat, and just knew all the right ways to eat a woman out. Yeah, that's what's you would be focusing on. Not the imagine that Sam and Colby would surely try to paint in your head.

You were brought out of your thoughts as the lights dimmed up and down, signaling everyone to get to their seats, as the speeches and award ceremony was going to start soon. You shot a look at Brian one more time and found your seat quickly.

The head of the company sauntered up on stage as applause erupted throughout the room. He nodded his head, shooting a couple people smiles and finger guns. Eventually as the room quieted down, he stepped up to the podium, beginning his speech.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm so happy you all could make it here tonight. Happy Halloween by the way. Isn't this much better than a Christmas party?" He let out a solid laugh, swatting at the crowd jokingly. "But as I was saying, tonight we are all here to celebrate. This company might be big, but it's the little guys - the individuals - that deserve the praise the most. Sure, I'm the head and face of this place, but you guys are what make it possible."

Another round of claps came from the room. You glanced around and noticed that the chair next to you was empty. There was a name tag on the plate, designating this spot for a "Colson Brock".... whoever that was.

"Now before the awards begin, I would like to introduce you all to someone remarkable. This man has helped shape this company in many ways. And, he's incredibly sexy. So let's all give a round of applause for Samson Golbach." The CEO grinned brightly, gesturing to the side of the stage.

You raised an eyebrow, Sexy? That's a strange word to use at a business party. Not to mention, The CEO was married to a woman so... this was all a bit confusing. You awkwardly clapped as the light shined on a man with light blonde hair. He was in an all-black suit, his hair gelled in a sleek look. He waved at the crowd, smirking mischievously. He smiled once he got to the podium, his fangs glistening in the light.

Was that... Sam?

You gasped in your seat, staring up with wide eyes at the stage. It looked like him, but you had never seen him in a suit. Plus he wasn't exuding the same energy he usually would so, maybe this wasn't him. Maybe this was his doppelganger, or someone that looked extremely like him. You sat back in your chair, narrowing your eyes up at the man.

"Thank you all for having me here today. I know many of you don't know who I am, but that's by design. I purposefully like to stay in the shadows, remain almost anonymous. It's a system I built to keep this company running at breakneck speed, and so far... this has been our most successful year to date!" Samson cheered.

You could feel the room clap again, happy with Sam... Samson's words. You took a deep breath, your anger rising. This can't be Sam. Sure, it looked like him and even sounded like him. But Sam and Colby had never taken this... thing, with you outside of your own house. There was no way they would do this to you in front of all of your coworkers and colleagues.

"It's nice to finally be appreciated and received so well. I'm sure you've all had some crazy days and night working here. I usually work all hours of the night and barely get to see the sun. You would think I was some sort of a vampire or something." Samson chuckled, some members of the crowd following suit. He turned, catching your eye, and gave you a wink.

Did he just...

The chair next to you pulled back, a man sat down hastily. He cleared his throat, catching his breath. He unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket, the silver pinstripes reflecting in the light. Your eyes traveled up the man's form, taking him in until finally stopping on his face. Everything about him was familiar, but his hair was pushed back, exposing his forehead. He took his glasses off, cleaning the lenses and sliding them back on.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” You growled.

The man, Colby, turned to look at you suddenly. “I'm... sorry?”

You crossed your arms tightly, sitting back in your chair. “I can't believe that you and Sam would do this.”

He gave a weary smile. “I'm so sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Right, Colby.” You huffed.

“Colby? That's a silly name,” he chuckled. “My name is Colson.”

“Of course it is.” You turned to him sharply, “You know you two have a lot of audacity to do this.”

He shook his head awkwardly. “Again, I'm not sure what you're talking about, Miss.”

“You guys haven't spoken to me in months. I've called out to yall and got nothing back. And now you show up and want to play dress up?!” You whispered harshly. “You guys are sick.”

“I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm not who you think I am,” he dissented. “I'm Colson Brock, not Colby, and I've never met that man on stage before in my life. But I am about to get an award from him so... if you could just stop talking to me, that would be for the best.”

You scoffed. “I swear to God, Colby-!”

You were cut off as Sam’s voice grew louder, “This award is given out to individuals that show inspiring traits and work countlessly day in and day out for us. The award for Best Dedication, Integrity, Creativity, and Knowledge goes to... Colson Brock!”

You scowled as Colby stood up, patting down his suit softly. He walked towards the stage, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder. He stepped on stage, shaking Sam's hand, and a photo was taken of the two of them holding the award.

You grabbed your purse, sneaking off to the bathroom quickly. You stumbled in, rushing to the sink and leaning against it. The bathroom was empty, just you alone. You breathed deeply, shaking your head.

That had to be Sam and Colby. There's no way that wasn't them.

But a part of you imagined, for just a moment, that maybe... it wasn't them. How could they have manipulated everyone into thinking they were real workers at this company? The CEO introduced Sam, or Samson. Colby's name, or Colson's name, was on the nametag and award.

You felt yourself flush at the thought. Oh my God, if that isn't Colby, that man out there thinks I'm absolutely insane. How the fuck am I supposed to go back to my table, sit there and eat an under seasoned chicken parm, and pretend I didn't just berate a man?

You groaned, bending down, and resting your head against the sink counter. Even when Sam and Colby weren't around, they still fucked with you.

You heard the bathroom door squeak open, your body jolting up. You didn't need another person thinking you were losing it.

Heavy footsteps crept into the bathroom, a man. A deep voice sighed, snickering lightly. You glanced up through the mirror, your eyes widening. Colby swayed in, leaning against the wall. His suit jacket was gone, now just in his button up and slacks. He rolled up his sleeves, running a hand through his hair.

“Surprise, Princess. Did ya miss us?” He teased.   

You glared, “What the fuck, Colby?”

“What?” He gestured outside the bathroom, “A bit too dramatic?”

“This is my livelihood! How dare you and Sam come and fuck this up for me!” You exclaimed, anger coursing through your veins.

“Relax, baby. We would never do anything too bad. No need to worry. Everyone will forget any of this happened. Honestly.” He put his hands up defensively. “This was all meant to be a bit of fun. We just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“You should be congratulating me on my award. I have the best dedication, integrity, creativity, and knowledge.... D-I-C-K. Dick? Best dick, get it?” He bit his lip cockily, “Came up with it myself.”

“You're a fucking genius,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “God, I knew I should have talked to Jess sooner.”

“Jess... why does that name sound familiar?” He questioned, feigning curiosity.

“She's the one that gave me the book that made the two of you.” You explained bitterly.

“Oh, she is? I'm gonna have write her a thank you card,” he winked. “But why exactly do you need to talk to her?”

“You two... I want you gone.” You admitted.

His face dropped, “What?”

You stepped up to Colby, getting in his face. “Aren't you tired of fucking around with me? Coming and going as you please? Why am I not allowed a normal life with a normal guy?!”

The lights flickered in the bathroom, Colby's eyes turning black for a split second, his horns visible. You shuttered, pressing yourself against the counter. The lights stopped flickering, and Colby was back to normal.

He cleared his throat, loosening his tie a bit. “Because... you're ours. You belong to us.”

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“You have... multiple times,” Colby pointed out in a snarky tone. “Even last year around this time, too.”

“Last Halloween?” You thought back, and a bunch of images started popping into your mind. Sam snapped Colby's neck but was also somehow terrorizing trick-or-treaters. Colby took control of your body but was also somehow dead while you and Sam fucked in your kitchen. It was all very confusing and didn't make quite sense.

“Wait, how the hell did you both fuck me and simultaneously not?” You puzzled, aggravated.

“I guess it just depends on what you picked.” Colby smirked, “Right, reader?”

“What are you talking about?” You replied.

“Don't worry about it.” He leaned against the counter next to you, “Back to what you were saying though. So, you want a normal guy so you can live a normal life... why? Isn't it more exciting to get fucked by a demon and a vampire?”

“Yeah, but there's more to life than sex.” You argued.

He feigned shock, “Take that back.”

You jeered, “You're extra fucking annoying, you know that?”

“And you clearly need the brattiness fucked out of you. But for some reason you don't want me or Sam to do it. Why? Did you have someone else in mind?” He took a couple steps, facing you again, “Like, say... Brian.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “How do you-“

He interjected. “I'm a demon. I know a lot of things. Not to mention I saw him and you eye-fucking each other by the bar. You're lucky I saw it and not Sam. Because Brian would be drained dry by now. Still probably will be.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, fine. I was eye-fucking Brian. And why am I not allowed to? Yall have been gone for months.”

“But you've been putting that toy of yours to such good use,” Colby taunted.

“You're an asshole.” You shot back.

“Thank you. I appreciate the love,” he smiled genuinely. “But I gotta ask, do you really think a man named 'Brian' can make you come like we can? Be honest with yourself on that.”

“That's not the only reason I want him,” you responded sassily. “Plus, he could be really good at sex.”

“Okay then. Let's find out.” Colby stomped over to the door, yelling out, "Brian! Get in here!"

You furrowed your brow, confused as to what Colby had up his sleeve. What the hell was he bringing Brian in here for?

Brian stepped in, glancing between the two of you. He had a dazed look on his face, clearly entranced.

“Colby, don-“ You started.

He cut you off again, “Look, princess. You wanted to know if he's a good fuck. So, I'm giving you the chance to find out. See what a normal fucking will bring to your life.”

“You can't force him to fuck me!” You fumed.

“I mean, I definitely could, but I'm not going to.” He turned to Brian, patting his shoulder, “Brian, my guy, do you want to fuck Y/N?”

Brian nodded. “Yes.”

“That's why you were buying her drinks tonight, right?” Colby asked.

“Yeah.” Brian’s voice was dull, almost like there were no thoughts behind his eyes.

“Such an honest man,” Colby commented. “Do you find her attractive?”

“Of course.” Brian agreed.

“Would you sleep with her if she said yes?” He continued.

Brian blinked, “Yes.”

Colby looked at you, “There we go. Happy?”

“I'm not fucking him in here, or in front of you.” You retorted, leaning back against the counter.

“Don't you want to prove me wrong? Don't you want to wipe the smug look off my face when he makes you come with his tongue? Or his totally, not average sized, dick?” Colby stepped up to you, his voice low, “The moment I walked in here, you got wet.”

A rush of blood came to your cheeks, your breath hitching.

“No amount of blushing can hide that deep down, you're a slut that wants to be fucked - pretty much - anywhere. And you're only giving me lip because we left you cold and alone for a couple months. I'm sorry about that. I truly wished I listened to your pleads...” he leaned in, kissing your cheek. “And cries...” he moved to the other cheek, giving it a quick kiss. “And screams,” he kissed your forehead gently. “Begging me to come fuck you. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. And this, right here, is my apology to you.”

You stood still, unsure what to do. Part of you did want to fuck Brian, just because you did find him hot. But with Colby standing next to him... it was no contest.

“Here. I'll sweeten the deal,” Colby offered. “If he makes you come, we'll leave. Forever.”

You froze, “Really?”

“No, probably not. The whole magical book kinda forbids that. But we will leave here, and you and Brian can go on your merry way and you two can go have beautifully... vanilla, sex.” He smiled dryly.

“Lucky for Brian, I'm already wet.” You quipped, glaring.

“Perfect. Brian, give the lady what she wants.” He gasped, “Ooh, can I choose what he does? Pleaseeeee?”

You blinked, giving the slightest nod.

“You are so generous.” Colby spun to him, “Brian, do you want to eat her out?”

“I would... but I don't do that.” Brian spoke monotone.

Colby’s face dropped, almost mimicking yours. “You don't give head? Sloppy toppy? None of that?”

“No.” Brian replied.

“This is the man you want, huh? Absolute loser,” Colby pointed at him, rolling his eyes. “Well, Brian, now you do. So, go crazy.”

Brian turned to you, a lustful look overcoming him. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards you. Your heart raced, watching his every move. His hands wrapped around your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg gently. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, your head falling back a bit.

Colby leaned against the wall, studying you. His face was blank, almost uninterested. You glared at him, trying to ignore his presence. He smiled, giving a little wave.

Brian nibbled on your inner thigh, his fingers stroking up and down the center of your underwear. He brushed against your clit, your knees almost buckling.

“You're wet, Y/N.” Brian hummed in awe.

“Yeah, that's what happens when you turn a woman on.” He leaned in, whispering to you, “Is he new around here or...?”

“Shut up, Colby!” You groaned. “Keep going Brian, please. I need you.”

“Don't take it too personally, Brian. She says that to everyone. Especially me.” Colby grinned.

“Drop dead.” You hissed.

He remarked, “I'm not really alive so...”

Brian pulled down your underwear, letting them fall down your legs and to the floor. The cool air hit your hot sex, making your body tense up. Brian leaned in, his mouth connecting with your clit.

You closed your eyes tightly, allowing the sensation of his tongue to arouse you more. It was a slow build, that was for sure. Nothing like Sam and Colby and the way they did things. But it was still nice.

But maybe not what you needed.

You placed your hand on the back of Brian's head, pushing him more into your heat. He grunted, the vibrations feeling fantastic against your clit. You amped up your moans, hoping it was believable to Colby.

He yawned, gazing at you bored. You shook your head, deciding to ignore Colby. You were determined to come, to make them leave. But Brian was not helping you, which was upsetting.

“Brian, baby... go a little faster please.” You begged, annoyed.

He nodded, moving his tongue hastily. You could feel the pleasure build more, but it was still a long way away from being close to an orgasm. He slid a finger in, pumping in and out sloppily. You groaned, feeling even less turned on suddenly.

“I guess I know why you don't give head.” Colby swatted at Brian, “Move.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No! Brian, st-”

“I know you want to come so we leave, but that ain't gonna happen with Brian over here.” Colby mentioned.

"Well, maybe he could fuck me!" You argued, gesturing to his dick.

“But I'm not hard.” Brian stated.

Colby raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Eating pussy isn't really a turn on for me.” Brian informed.

“God, Y/N, you really know how to pick them.” Colby pulled him up by his arm, smiling sinisterly. “Brian, why don't you leave and go find Sam? I think he can teach you a valuable lesson on what happens to men that don't please their women.”

Brian turned and left, not saying another word. You huffed, glaring harshly at Colby. “Your little glares aren't going to do anything to me, sweetheart. If anything, they just make me hard.”

Colby's hand slid down and cupped your sex, palming your clit gingerly. You gasped, back arching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Colby barricaded you in, his hand beginning to make small circles on your clit.

“This is how a man fucks a woman like you.” He uttered, staring at you intensely.

“But you're not eating me out.” You challenged.

Colby cocked his head. “If you wanted my tongue, you could have just asked.”

You suddenly felt a tongue licking at your entrance, your body shuttering in ecstasy. “Fuck, h-how-?”

"Did you forget I have abilities? Is it because the horns aren't here?" The lights flickered, and when they turned back on, his horns were out. “How about now? Do you remember what I am now?”

"Yeaahhh, I remember." You whined, your head falling back in pleasure.

“You are so sexy when you get close to coming. God, it makes me hard just thinking about it.” Colby pushed his clothed, growing dick against your thigh, “Do you feel me?”

You nodded mindlessly, your hands gripping his forearms.

“Princess?” He asked innocently.

“Uh-huh?" You murmured.

“I think that's enough for you." All the sensations stopped, Colby pulling away from you.

“Wha-? No. No! Colby, please.” You grumbled.

He asserted, “It's time for you to be punished.”  

“What did I do?” You questioned, your mouth a gape.

"I'm sorry, was Brian that forgetful or do you like playing dumb?" Colby spun you around, making you face the mirror. He rolled your dress up a bit, pressing his bulge against your bare ass. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna start fucking you, and you have to remain quiet. Just like you were with Brian."

You lowered your voice, “Why do I have to be silent?”

“Because otherwise, you'll get caught.” He whispered cheekily.

The door busted open, and a gaggle of women came in, chit chatting like there wasn't a demon about to fuck you right against the sink.

You gulped; your voice even quieter. “What the fuck, Colby?!”

"Don't worry, princess. If you remain silent, they won't see you. But once you make a single noise, they'll know. They'll know that you are a dirty slut that likes to get fucked in the bathroom. That you're so desperate for dick that you'd let a demon fuck you. And a vampire." He tsked sassily, "Double greedy."

Colby unbuttoned his pants, giving your ass a slap as his cock sprang free. You bit your lip, holding back a gasp.

"You ready for me, baby?" He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding along your lips. Then finally, he glided his cock in.

You trembled from the sensations, direly wanting to moan along with him. But you didn't want to get caught. Being fucked while others were around, whether they could see you or not, was embarrassing enough.

But also incredibly thrilling.

Colby thrusted deeply, his cock hitting the right spot over and over again. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best way. Your body already felt like it was building rapidly, your legs shaking under your weight. You felt like your skin was on fire, burning against the cool air.

A lady walked up to the sink next to you, washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror. You shuttered out a breath, Colby picking up his pace.

“Don't look at her, Y/N. Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself get fucked.” He commanded breathlessly.

You turned your head, staring straight. He smirked at you in the mirror, keeping his pace the same while lazily pulling off his tie.

"This is what you deserve, sweetheart. You're such a slut for me." He yanked your hands behind your back, tying them easily with his tie. He gripped your connected hands, bucking his hips harder and faster now.

Your body buzzed erotically, your hips gyrating in time with Colby's. You could feel your edge building; all you had to do was stay quiet.

Colby slid one hand down between your legs, finding your swollen clit instantly. He rubbed it faster than his thrusts, causing your whole body to jolt. You sucked in a harsh breath, knowing you shouldn't have. But God... the sensation was too much for you to stay quiet.

The women in the bathroom looked around, confused.

"Baby, do you want to get caught or something? Because you are being awfully loud. Maybe you need something in your mouth to quiet you down." He snaked his other hand up towards your face, his two fingers rubbing along your lips. You parted your mouth, allowing his fingers inside.

He cursed, “That's fucking it baby. Be a good girl and suck them for me.”

You sucked his fingers like your life depended on it. He finger-fucked your mouth in time with his dick, both speeding up as the minutes passed. You could feel yourself getting close, knowing that your orgasm was imminent.

“It's been too long since the last time you sucked my cock.” He chuckled darkly, “Maybe later you do that for me. Wouldn't you want that, princess?”

You nodded desperately, bucking your hips wildly against his cock and hands. You were about to explode, your edge hitting its peak. This is all you wanted for the last couple months: to be fucked hard and well. And that's what Colby was doing.

“You almost ready to come? Build up baby. Suck my fingers dry. Suck them like you would my dick.” You took his fingers deeper, gagging around them. You pumped yourself on his cock, whimpering. "There you go, baby. What a good girl." Colby leaned in, his horns grazing your cheek as he uttered, "My good girl... Come for me."

Your body spasmed around Colby's cock, bouncing on it helplessly. You moaned loudly around his fingers, not caring if anyone heard. You had been so focused on staring in the mirror at yourself getting fucked that didn't see that you and Colby were all alone in the bathroom once more. His eyes bore at you in the mirror, flashing to black.

Relaxing your hips, his cock pulled out of you for a moment, letting you relax. You felt your juices run down your inner thigh, your body still running high. You leaned down, placing your head against the counter as you took some deep breaths.

“Hi there, baby girl. “A familiar voice came from behind you, but it wasn't Colby's. You looked up quickly, Sam now behind you, and Colby was nowhere to be seen. Sam waved back at you in the mirror, smirking. "You ready for me now?"

“W-Where is Colby?” You stuttered, your pussy twitching at the thought of Sam's hard cock.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him. He'll be back soon enough." Sam traced a finger along your sex, gasping. "God baby, you are so wet. Completely soaking yourself."

He took his finger into his mouth, tasting you. "Fuck, I missed that."

Your mouth hung open, watching him through lustful eyes. His hand snaked around to the front of your body, grabbing your neck firmly. He pulled you flush against his partially exposed body, his cock hard against your ass. "We give you everything you could ask for, and you still wanted someone like Brian? How pathetic."

He forced your head to look at yourself in the mirror, "You are a desperate slut just begging to be fucked. But we're the only ones that can make you feel this good."

Sam slammed his hips into yours, his cock taking you deeply. You grunted loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. He took advantage of your still tied up hands, holding them tightly. His other hand raced up your back, lowering you down to the sink. He placed you flat against the counter, fucking you harshly. You shook with each of his thrusts, mewling at every in and out.

“You think you get to choose who fucks you now? You think you can move on from us?” He fumed, his cocking hitting your spot repeatedly.

You panted, “Noooo.”

“There is no one other than us. Let me make that abundantly clear: you're ours.” Sam's fangs sunk into your skin, your eyes widening. He continued to bite you all over, barely drawing any blood, but marking you; letting everyone know you were taken.

Your second orgasm was close. You needed this second one badly, itching to come sooner rather than later. You could feel how desperate and hot and slutty it was turning you.

“Baby girl, do you deserve to come? Have you been good?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, your whole body shaking, “Yessss. Yes I have. Please Sam! Please!”

He pulled you up again, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly. “Ride my dick, baby. Make yourself come on my dick.”

You uncontrollably bucked your hips, whining on his cock. His hold on your neck tightened just enough, making it hard to breath and your vision blurring. The lack of oxygen made your orgasm hit twice as hard. You soaked his member, moving mindlessly on it until you finally finished. Your legs gave out a bit, Sam catching you. He snickered, his red eyes taking you in through the mirror.

The doors to the bathroom busted open again, a random lady coming in. She turned and looked at the two of you, not even acknowledging what she had to be seeing. "Y/N, you need to come out there quick."

You were taken aback by this woman, unsure of who she was or what the hell she wanted you for. "W-what are you talking about?" You rushed, shimmying your dress down, trying to cover yourself back up.

“They're calling your name. You won an award!” She exclaimed, leaving the bathroom happily.

You furrowed your brow, turning to Sam. But he was gone. Those powers of their really do come in handy for moments like these.

You shuffled out of the bathroom, even more confused as you glanced around at everyone from your company. They were all looking at you, smiling brightly and being congratulatory. You walked towards the stage, the people directing you, and as you got closer, you saw Sam and Colby on it, holding a plaque of some sort.

Sam pulled you on stage, kissing your cheek sweetly. Colby handed you the award, shaking your hand dramatically. You took the award in your hand, turning it to see what it said.

“Give it up for Y/N everyone. The biggest slut of the year!” Sam yelled into the microphone. “Congratulations baby, you deserve it.”  

You gawked at Sam and Colby, the reality of what they did hitting you. You threw the award on the ground, glaring at them harshly.

“Hey now, we worked really hard on that.” Sam pouted.

“Fuck you, how dare you make me a fool in front of everyone!” You ranted, getting in their faces.

"Princess, no one is gonna remember this. And luckily, no one will remember this either." Colby smiled devilishly.

Sam and Colby grabbed at your dress, tearing it off your body like it was made of cheap fabric. The crowd cheered, your body heating up immediately as you were suddenly naked in front of everyone.

“Now, don't argue with us, plaything. You can bitch and moan all you want to but being fucked in front of everyone... turns you on.” Colby wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “No matter how much you want to deny it, you can't deny how drenched you are right now.”

Your body quivered as Colby's fingers slipped easily into your cunt. You fell back against him; his suddenly naked body cool against your hot skin. Sam sauntered up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your torso. His hands kneaded your breasts, nipples aching to be touched.

Sam laughed, “Look at her, Colby. She can't even argue with us. She knows that we're right. She is the biggest slut of the year. She's our slut, our toy, our plaything. Ours. Forever.”

The room erupted in applause, some even screaming out your name.

“Let's give them a show, princess,” Colby gestured to the eager crowd. Let the people see the real slut you are. Isn���t that what you want? To be fucked in front of everyone.”

You couldn't think anymore. Every sensation was overpowering your thoughts. You knew deep down that Sam and Colby were right, and all you could think of was how badly you wanted to come again.

You nodded feverishly, your hands automatically pawing at both of their bodies. The air around you changed once you said yes, your body being positioned graphically. Forced down onto your knees, Colby stood in front of you, while Sam was behind you.

“Aww, baby. Look, it's your favorite positions: on your hands and knees, getting railed by us.” Sam jested playfully.

Your sex throbbed, direly needing them inside of you. You whined, looking up at Colby. “Please, just fuck me. No more teasing.”

Colby stared into your eyes, jerking himself off right in front of your face. “You want this, huh? You want me in your mouth. Say it.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I want you in my mouth.”

“And what about me, toy?” Sam slapped your ass, making you look back at him.

“Fuck, I need it. I need the both of you so bad!” You cried, grinding your hips back against Sam.

Hoots and hollers sounded off around the room. You glanced at the crowd, their hungry eyes taking your desperate form in.

“Fine then, since you asked so nicely,” Colby cupped your face, turning your head back to his cock. The tip pushed against your mouth, sliding in easily. He moaned lowly, almost animalistically. Sam teased his cock along your entrance, slipping in effortlessly.

Once they were in you, you sighed deeply. It felt so good to be surrounded by Sam and Colby, to be filled by them. They had you right where they wanted you, and you loved every second of it.

And the crowd seemed to love it even more.

They started off slow, taking their time to build your pleasure up. There was nothing else on your mind. All you could think about was their cock and how much you wanted them to come deep inside of you.

Colby gaped, “Oh princess, you have the filthiest mind. Maybe even dirtier than ours.”

“That's why she's our slut. We are just innocent people being used by this whore of a woman,” Sam shuttered, lulling his head back as he fucked you. “And God, I love every second of it.”

“I could fuck this mouth for hours. How does that sound, sweetheart? You love that idea, don't you?” Colby breathed, biting his lip, staring down at you.

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his shaft deeper. He grunted, hips twitching. His hand rested on your head lightly, pulling your hair softly. His grip tightened, causing you to gag around him.

Sam cursed, “Fuuuuck, she clenched around me when gagged. Keep doing that, baby girl. That felt so good.”

“Y/N, how can you get all of this, all of us, and still want something else? Especially Brian. What a fucking loser.” Colby groaned, disgusted.

Sam agreed, grimacing. “Dude didn't even know how to eat pussy. He didn't even like eating pussy.”

The crowd booed, screaming expletives at the sound of Brian's name.

“See, everyone knows that Brian sucks. How could you ever settle for something like that when you have the best right here?” Sam inquired. “Two men willing to do anything to make you come.”

"Let me make this perfectly clear, darling," Colby pulled himself out of you, raising you up so you were eye level with him. He held your face firmly, his voice low and calm. “While I'm never the type to get jealous, and watching you get eaten out by that joke of a man was entertaining and kinda sexy, let me be honest with you.”

His face dropped, his eyes darkening with each word. "If you ever go after another man again, I will personally make sure to rip his heart out in front of you, and then I’ll breed your cunt so deeply you will feel me for days. Because there is no one else for you, princess. Just. Us. Forever. That means for eternity, you are ours. You are mine."

Sam yanked your hair, pulling you out of Colby's grip for a moment. He grunted harshly, "That goes for me too, baby girl. If you ever even breathe near another man again, I might have to drain your sexy little body dry and turn you into our immortal plaything for forever. And don't think for a second I'm bluffing."

Colby took you by the neck, pulling you back towards him, choking you lightly. All the while, Sam was still fucking you. "There is no escaping us, Y/N. We will never let you go. No matter what you do for the rest of your life, we will always be there, in the shadows, watching. We own you. And nothing will change that."

His face relaxed, going back into his casual, smug look. "So... in the meantime, enjoy yourself, princess. And open your mouth again."

He pushed you down, his cock still hard and leaking, ready to fuck your mouth. Their words sank deeply into your mind, arousing and frightening you all at the same time.

Colby thrusted himself back in, gagging you. “There you go, baby. But now, I think it's time we give the people what they want. Right, everybody?!”

The room screamed in approval, lustful energy shooting through you from the sound. Suddenly, Sam and Colby began fucking you passionately, the sheer brutal force alone bouncing you back and forth on their cocks. You whined around them, feeling yourself get lost in the feeling of being their toy.

Sam groaned a breathy sound, “God, you're basically just a fleshlight, Y/N. Don't you love being used by us?”

“You know she does, Sam. Just a set of holes for us to use.” Colby’s voice was husky and low, “God, her mouth feels incredible.”

“She's so pathetic, really. She squeezed around me so tightly when we called her names. Maybe we should do that more often.” Sam taunted.

“Of course. There are so many more names we could come up with for her. But right now, all I'm concerned about is coming down her throat and fucking her until she chokes.” Colby's hips sped up as he face-fucked you. You didn't even have time to react, your jaw becoming slack and just allowing him to take over and use it like a toy. Tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks and drool dribbled down your chin from his harsh actions.

Sam's hand went between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. Your thighs shook from the feeling, the pleasure overwhelming.

“You're so close, aren't you, princess?” Colby panted.

Sam chimed in; his voice depraved. “Build up for us. Come with us, baby girl.”

They pounded into you in unison, almost taking the breath out of you with each thrust. The room began getting louder, chants of "Come for us" came from the crowd, building up in time with your orgasm.

Every part of this was spectacular and you couldn't get enough.

Your breathing hitched as your orgasm hit the edge, ready to fall over once they said you could. Sam and Colby kept going, kept using you, until they were ready. You begged them to let you come, your pleas muffled by Colby’s cock. Both thrusted with abandonment, needing to come just as badly as you.

Colby grunted, pulling your hair, “Fuck, fuck! Y/N, come! Come for us now!”

“Do it baby! That's fucking it, YES!” Sam growled, his fingers bruising your hips as he held them tightly.

All three of you exploded in euphoric pleasure, bellowing out in ecstasy. The crowd roared as Sam and Colby filled you up with their cum. You released around Sam's cock, soaking him. You swallowed as much of Colby's cum as you could, gagging as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly until finally slowing his hips down. Sam slammed inside of you once more, grunting out a strained cry. Your body was spent, exhausted from being fucked so many times. You felt yourself black out, unable to stay awake a moment longer.

When you came to, you were in your hotel room, inside the same hotel the event had taken place at. You felt sore everywhere, knowing that wasn’t a dream. You sighed happily, snuggling into bed. You noticed a note on the side of your pillow. You picked it up, reading it quickly.

Ours.

- Sam and Colby

<< Part 3B ||

how I met my cat

Pairing: Neuvillette, Ayato, Childe, Dottore, Zhongli, Pantalone, Itto x f!Reader

AYATO

Walking down one of Inazuma's streets, which was being lit up by the midday sun, Ayato spotted what he would say after "that misunderstanding" sitting on the edge of a wooden bridge, looking wistfully at the carp that were splashing in the clear water. The kitten looked like the very personification of sunshine. His red hair was sticking out in different directions, and his face was as silly as it was cute.

The guy froze for a while, following his gaze to the picture in the water, which the red kitten was studying with such care. The noise behind him attracted a small animal, but remarkably, he did not rush to run away, he just looked at Ayato's tall figure with his big green eyes, the size of a tea saucer. The poor kitten was so overzealous with raising his red head, due to the tall stature of a representative of the Kamisato clan, that he fell funny, turning a somersault, which made him look even more disheveled.

"How clumsy you are," Ayato said, and after taking one last look at the animal, he went about his business.

What was his surprise when he noticed a red-haired, disheveled spy who followed him from one planned place to another, and eventually escorted him to the Kamisato estate.

That day, Ayato ordered to feed his personal guest, as a reward for his perseverance and endurance, because he had come a really long way with his tiny paws. And then a terrible thing happened… Ayaka saw the kitten.

Ayato swears he has no affection for the silly ginger cat, but Toma, who works late into the night, often sees Yashiro, the head of the commission, allow the animal to nestle in his lap and soothe it with his purr.

PANTALONE

Pantalone left the restaurant, and the first thing that attracted him, even across the street, was a sprawled black spot that contrasted with the snow-covered street. While the man was putting on gloves, he saw how on the well-fed body of the "spot", which turned out to be a cat, black fur was waving from gusts of wind, but he stubbornly and motionlessly lay. At some point, Pantalone allowed the idea that the animal was frozen, but he was surprised enough when he saw a sluggish movement and a prolonged "meow" when a worried young girl came out of the shop in front of the cat and put a thick and fresh sausage in front of him. She cooed while squatting next to him, stroking his soft fur and saying how poor and unhappy he was. Pantalone chuckled and went home.

There might not have been anything remarkable in this story, but Regrator noticed the cat several more times, each time he left the restaurant, the animal lay motionless near the bench, waiting for his saviour.

"Sly," Pantalone said to himself and headed across the street.

Sitting down in front of the animal, the man smiled, because from this distance you could see thick, beautiful black fur, and the fact that the cat was very well-fed.

"Very clever," said the man again, and was about to leave when the cat opened his green eyes. Perhaps sensing that he was not going to get a handout from Pantalone, he did not meow as he usually did, but sat up gracefully and blinked a few times.

No matter how funny it sounded, Pantalone invited the cat to go with him, and no matter how funny it sounded, the cat agreed and gently trotted through the snow after his recognized master.

Despite the fact that the cat has been voluntarily domesticated and now needs nothing, he likes to sneak into the kitchen and act out scenes of "hungry" fainting in front of the cooks, who are happy to feed the sly cat.

The staff of the Pantalone estate often loses a cat and they go crazy looking for it, thinking that they have missed the beloved pet of one of the Harbingers, while the animal sleeps on its owner's clothes merging with it. As soon as Pantalone calls his pet by name, he fluffs his tail and goes to greet him or keep him company, purring peacefully during long working nights.

ITTO

The eccentric head of the Arataki gang was a second away from deciding to jump into the arms of Kuki Shinobu, who was walking next to him, when a small pack of yard dogs rushed at him from the alley, but he froze in surprise when he realized that they were dispersed … by a cat. A white, somewhat skinny cat with a torn right ear and piercing orange eyes. He drove the dogs away with unshakable confidence, accompanying all this with a shrill "meow".

"He's just a demon in cat form," Itto exclaimed mischievously, watching the cat disappear around the bend.

It took several days and all the skill of the Arataka gang to find the white cat, which, unfortunately for the members of the group, Itto was delighted with.

The found animal and the "drama lover" Arataki Itto quickly found a common language and stuck to each other. The cat loves to relax, like a fluffy collar, on the shoulders of its recognized owner, in some unthinkable way, It taught him to hunt beetles and look for only the best specimens for fighting.

Despite the fact that Kuki was skeptical about the appearance of the cat, even she relented when the sneaky cat began to bring them small goodies from nowhere. That's how he became a full member of the Arataka gang.

DOTTORE

Dottore had to go to Sumeru himself, in order to purchase components sold only there for his experiments. And it was there, in the market, that the man saw a white cat holding a mouse by the tail with a fluffy paw. Dottore froze and watched with interest what would happen next. In an instant, the cat easily lets the mouse go and desperately watches its well-aimed run.

"This is a failure," the man said to himself, already about to look away from the snow-white cat, as he looked at him, as if he had heard a remark. Multicolored eyes, one yellow and the other green, looked accusingly at the man, and with light leaps the graceful animal began to chase the mouse, which had just found hope of salvation.

Waving his fluffy tail, the cat was rapidly approaching the small rodent, playing with him in a feline version of hide-and-seek. Observation and dexterity do not give the poor mouse a chance. On the move again, the cat instantly grabs the mouse with its paws, which are glistening with snow-white fur.

This little game moment is full of energy and grace, and is a reflection of the sincere joy and enjoyment that the cat gets from his favorite mouse game. And it was after that that Dottore decided that the snow-white cat from the Sumeru market belonged to him.

ZHONGLI

Morax sat in one of the gazebos near Li Yue Harbour. The man was drinking fragrant tea in silence, watching the ships that were going on a long journey. Preferring to spend time in peace and quiet, Zhongli often chose this particular gazebo, on top of a fairly high mountain. Accustomed that no one would disturb him here, the man was extremely surprised to notice a majestic fluffy red cat lying on a smooth stone ledge enjoying the rays of the sun. His bright coat shone against the background of the surrounding green cover of nature. The cat stretched out relaxed, enjoying the pleasant peace.

It would seem that over the years of his life, Morax had seen many cats, but there was something subtly regal about it. Birds were flying around the cat, singing their songs. They felt safe next to this powerful, compared to them, animal, which never harmed harmless creatures. It seemed that the mice and birds knew that this cat was not just a predator, but also a patron, calmly allowing them to be in his vicinity.

However, one little mouse decides to test the limits of the exclusivity of its security. Sneaking up unnoticed, she approached the cat and, trying her luck, tries to bite him. But it was courage, for which the little girl paid dearly.

The cat, suddenly feeling the mouse's teeth on its fur, reacts reflexively to the attack. He instantly gets to his feet and easily deals with the rodent, leaving impressive evidence of his power in front of the others.

Raising his head in proud relief and dignity, the cat turned his gaze to Zhongli.

"You can't make concessions when there is a contract. If the contract is not followed, it will be violated," the man said and motioned for the animal to sit closer to him.

NEUVILLETTE

The judge already believed that he had committed the most reckless act in his entire life when he succumbed to Furina's persuasions to take a kitten from the shelter so that he would keep him company and he would not be so lonely.

Neuvillette often watched as a gray ball of fur, trying to catch its tail, bites it, from which it then meows plaintively, as it crashes into furniture from a running start, as it clumsily falls from all surfaces that it can reach. Sometimes it seemed to him that he had sheltered a kitten with a maximum of one brain cell. This playful prankster chases after him and clings to his clothes. He attacks Neuvillette from around the corner, hisses at his shadow and hiccups funny.

"You vaguely remind me of someone," states Neuvillette, taking the kitten in his arms to go with him to his office, because it seems to him that he does not want him to leave.

This is not the first time that Neuvillette's new pet stays with him at work, and all employees adore and gladly pamper this clumsy, cheerful and active ball of fur.

One day, coming home after a brutal trial, when it was raining heavily outside, Neuvillette found a picture that made his heart skip a beat. Somehow, the cat got stuck in a paper bag, and mewing piteously tried to run to him right in such a standing position. The rain has gradually subsided, and Fontaine's relentless judge can't help but smile when he has to tear open the package to free the kitten.

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-three: "The Unexpected Introduction"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You show up at Matt’s office hoping to surprise him and walk home together.

Or You end up with a few surprises yourself.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: The installment in which y'all find out who the hell Matt ran into from his past not that long ago that put him in a bad mood and kickstarted Reader's recurring nightmare. Who's it going to be? Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

Finally reaching the building's entrance where Nelson, Murdock, and Page was located, you extended a hand forward and pulled open the door. Stepping inside, you readjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder as your tired feet easily began the familiar trek down the winding hall towards Matt’s office. You hoped that he would be excited to see you after the long day you'd had because you hadn’t told him you were going to stop by after work.

Each step quickly became more uncomfortable than the last, the backs of your dress flats starting to irritate your heels now, painfully digging into your skin. You'd been on your feet most of the day today chasing different leads for a story you'd been working on, and unfortunately your shoes hadn't been the most comfortable pair for the task. Now all you were looking forward to doing was walking home with Matt and having some time alone with him before he inevitably went out as Daredevil later–something he'd been doing a bit more frequently lately. But as you approached the office suite, the door with all three of their names displayed on it finally in sight, you could hear an angry voice coming from the other side. An angry voice that was clearly arguing with someone. It took you only a second to distinguish Matt's enraged tone.

Stopping just in front of their door, you hesitated, both your hands awkwardly clutching the strap of your purse. A frown settled onto your lips as you caught the rest of what Matt's distinct, irritated voice was saying. 

“–irresponsible, Karen?”

“I'm honestly tired of hearing you bring this up all week, Matt,” Karen snapped. “It has absolutely nothing to do with the firm. Let it go already.”

“You represent our law firm!” Matt shot back. “Tell her, Fog! She's making a terrible decision! At the very least it makes us look bad!”

Chewing your lip as you stood frozen in front of their door, you caught the sound of Foggy’s unmistakable nervous laugh.

“Oh whoa, I've made it very clear that I am staying very, very far away from this,” he answered. “I'm not touching this with a twenty foot pole.”

An aggravated noise came from Matt, one you knew all too well from when his nights as the Devil didn't go as planned. Maybe stopping by to walk home with him after work had been a bad idea today. He hadn't seemed upset earlier when you'd spoken at lunch and he'd told you he had something he wanted to ask you, but now you were contemplating turning around and just leaving. But just as you turned, prepared to hurriedly shuffle back down the hallway and wait for Matt at home, you heard him call your name from inside the office. 

You winced immediately, pausing mid-step. Of course it was ridiculous to think you could sneak away without him recognizing your presence, especially being in such close proximity. He'd already told you many times before how easily he could pick up on your heartbeat when you were half a block away even in the busy city foot traffic, there was no way a lone door was going to do much to hide you from him.

“I can hear you out there, sweetheart,” Matt continued, clearly trying to restrain his anger as he spoke. “You might as well come in instead of trying to disappear.”

Sucking in a breath, you turned back around and cautiously opened the door, stepping inside their office. The smile you'd forced onto your face wavered as all three of them immediately turned their attention on you. Nervously you shut the door behind yourself, taking a few steps into the room but staying near the safety of the exit when you spotted the look of barely contained rage still on Matt's face in conjunction with the way his hands were positioned on his hips. You knew that stance. He was clearly furious.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them awkwardly with a wave, one which only Foggy returned along with an apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I just–just figured I'd stop by and walk home with Matt when he finished tonight.” Eyeing the tight lipped expression on Matt's face and Karen’s annoyed and rigid posture, her arms crossed over her chest, you quickly added, “But it seems like I walked in on the middle of something and I should probably just leave and let you all get back to…whatever it is that you've got going on.”

“You're not interrupting anything,” Karen said, gesturing a hand towards Matt. “By all means take him home, we've been done with work for a bit now. And I could use a break from his constant chastising.”

Matt's hands tightened their grip on his hips, a muscle jumping in the side of his cheek. You took a step back towards the door, already aware that his temper was about to flare up again with the way the corner of his lip was twitching. And sure enough, he was quick to round back on Karen.

“You're being absolutely ridiculous about this,” Matt scolded. “At the very least, think about your own safety.”

Karen blew out an irritated breath, rolling her eyes at Matt. “Oh please,” she replied. “I'm not in any danger, Matt, and you know that. You're just being dramatic because you're still pissed about the other week.”

Another frustrated growl rolled out of Matt, one of his hands flying off his hips to loosen the collar of his tie. You glanced over at Foggy who was on the far side of the desk that all the three of them were standing around. Brows jumping up onto your forehead, you mouthed ‘what's going on’ to him. But Karen apparently caught the silent question you'd asked and her attention returned to you. 

“It's not work related so there's no reason why you can't know,” she told you. “It's because–”

“ No ,” Matt snarled, taking an abrupt step towards Karen as his expression noticeably darkened. “She doesn't need to be remotely involved in anything to do with him .”

Karen scoffed, rolling her eyes at Matt. You continued to stand there in confusion, brows furrowing together as you attempted to make sense of what they were arguing about. Across the room, Foggy was shaking his head and focusing back on packing up his briefcase. 

“We're friends, Matt,” Karen pointed out. “You think she's never going to meet the guy I'm seeing? Because that's a little ridiculous.”

Head tilting to the side, the look of confusion remained on your face. “Justin?” you asked curiously. “You both are arguing about Justin? Because I've already met him a few times, Matt. And you were there.”

Karen grinned back at you, a genuine smile on her face as she shook her head. “No, not Justin,” she answered. “We broke up a couple of weeks ago because someone else…reappeared in my life.”

“ Karen ,” Matt growled in warning. “I told you I didn't want her to know about any of this.”

Karen glared over her shoulder at Matt, her blue eyes narrowed. “Well that's unfortunate for you then because he was on his way here to the office to walk me home after work.”

Matt's expression briefly faltered, his mouth falling open at what she'd said. And then his head snapped to the side, his mouth quickly closing as a frown drew itself across his lips. You saw his jaw begin to grind back and forth in irritation as he focused just beyond the office wall on something. Seconds later his attention shifted straight to you.

“We’re leaving,” he ordered. “ Now .”

He leaned over, grabbing his cane from the desk beside him and roughly beginning to open it. He was moving in a rush it seemed, something that appeared to only further annoy Karen. Though you noticed Foggy was also beginning to move a little faster with packing up his things. 

Who the hell was Karen dating that had these two reacting this way? He couldn't be that bad, could he?

A knock came from the door behind you, the sound drawing you from your racing thoughts. You saw Matt’s hands pause their movements as he stiffened beside the desk. Without thinking you turned, reaching a hand out to open the door for whoever had knocked since you were the one standing beside it, but just as you twisted the handle you heard Matt call out behind you. 

“Sweetheart, don't!”

Swinging the door open, you came face to face with someone you'd recognize absolutely anywhere. The Punisher. Frank Castle.

His brown eyes rose up from where they’d been focused on the floor, landing on you. Your body instantly froze, eyes going wide in surprise. Whoever you’d been expecting to open the door to find, it certainly hadn’t been him. 

You knew him well–or at least, well enough from your time working in the media. The only person who’d ever painted him with any sympathy back during the days when New York was terrified of him was Karen. Her pieces about him had certainly humanized him to you back then, making his violent actions seeking revenge for his family's death make sense. But still. The man had gone on countless shooting sprees in public, which was the main thing you remembered about him in this exact moment with him standing right there in front of you, his imposing figure filling up the entire doorway.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, dipping his head before glancing around you. “I'm just here to see Miss Page.”

“Right, yeah,” you muttered, quickly stepping out of the way.

“Hey, Frank,” Karen greeted, her voice visibly brighter than it had been a moment ago. “I see you’ve now met–”

“No,” Matt spat out, suddenly drawing you backwards and placing himself between you and Frank, “he hasn’t.”

Frank’s dark brows knitted together on his forehead, his eyes narrowing just a fraction back at Matt as his head cocked to the side. Then the corner of his frowning lip twitched upwards into an amused smirk. Matt only squared his shoulders, his muscles tensed like he was about to throw a punch while his left hand white-knuckled his cane.

“That your girl, Red?” he asked. “The one you been telling me to stay away from?”

Matt didn’t say anything in response, though he continued to attempt to block Frank’s view of you behind him. Over by the desk behind you, you heard Karen let out a sigh.

“Yes, it is,” she replied. To Matt she added, “He already knows about her because I’ve told him about her. Because she’s one of my friends , Matt.”

“Well now we’re leaving,” Matt replied sharply to Frank. “So you meeting her ends here.”

He reached a hand out behind himself, easily finding and grabbing onto your wrist. With a slight tug he pulled you after himself and you stumbled forward behind him. Matt led you back towards the desk with him, only releasing your hand to grab his briefcase from off the top of it. Karen shot you a sympathetic smile over Matt’s shoulder as you stood there entirely confused as to what all was going on. 

“He's not attending that gala, either,” Matt warned Karen. “Find another date or go alone, but he isn't coming.”

Karen let out an irritated breath as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the desk behind her. “Do you really think he's the gala type, Matt?” she shot back. 

An aggravated rumble came from within Matt's chest in response before he turned, his red lenses flashing under the lights overhead as he focused on you. You sucked in a breath, unsure what you were supposed to do or say right now to not further upset him. You still had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“Home. Now,” Matt ordered.

“Okay,” you readily agreed. 

Matt began to lead the way out of the office, his body stiff as he moved. You caught the tension in his jaw as he began grinding his teeth when he passed by Frank. You ducked your head and followed after him, desperate to ask him what was going on when you had both gotten out of the building and he’d hopefully calmed down. Behind you, you heard Foggy quickly scurrying out of the room after you, muttering an awkward goodbye to both Karen and Frank as he went.

Just as you passed through the door you caught the sound of Frank’s voice saying your name. You paused in the doorway, noticing the way Matt came to a halt farther down in the hall, his head immediately snapping over his shoulder. Glancing nervously back into the room just beyond Foggy, you saw Frank smiling back at you. 

“Was good to finally meet you,” he said. “Karen’s told me all about you.”

You sent him a nervous smile, aware of how much Matt probably loved hearing that. 

“Yeah uh, you too,” you replied awkwardly. 

Once more ducking your head and hurrying down the hall after Matt, you heard the amused chuckle coming from Frank in the room behind you just before Karen’s hushed voice scolded him for the comment. Rushing towards the building’s exit, Matt, Foggy, and you walked the winding hallway in silence until you finally stepped back outside onto the sidewalk. Though the moment your foot hit pavement, Matt had swiftly spun around to face you.

“You need to stay away from Frank,” Matt warned you without preamble. “He's dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt, sweetheart. Are we clear on that?”

Your eyes darted over to where Foggy was standing on the sidewalk beside Matt, but he quickly glanced across the street instead of meeting your gaze. Fingers nervously fidgeting with your purse strap again, you focused back on Matt.

“I mean I'm not planning to become his best friend,” you began cautiously, “but if he's really dating Karen…I get the feeling he's going to be around us all on occasion, Matt.”

“You know who he is, right?” Matt asked.

You sighed, nodding. “Of course. What kind of New York City journalist would I be if I didn't?” you questioned back. “But at the same time…I do remember Karen’s articles. The man lost his family tragically. Right in front of his eyes. It…kind of makes sense that he'd want revenge. Do the things he went out and did.”

Matt's dark brows dipped behind his glasses as his head tilted sharply to the side. “Are you saying you agree with what he did?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, quickly shaking your head. “Not at all. I'm just saying I understand why he did it. And that he at least wasn’t on some mass rampage for the hell of it like a completely deranged person. There was a reason. One that I think would be hard to understand without having been in his position. But Matt,” you continued, voice gentler, “what's got you so worked up about him? I highly doubt Karen would be with him if he was going to hurt her or any of us. I mean hell, it was your firm that represented him in court. And what the hell did Karen mean about you still being pissed about the other week? Because I’m guessing that had something to do with Frank, right?”

Matt's gaze dropped down towards the pavement, that muscle jumping in his cheek again. You glanced over at Foggy only to catch him quickly look away once again, avoiding eye contact. What the hell was going on?

“You want to tell me what I clearly am being left out of?” you asked, anger rising in you as you focused back on Matt. “Because I thought we didn't keep secrets, Matt. What’s been going on?”

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Matt let out a sigh. His entire demeanor immediately changed before your eyes and your curiosity piqued even further. 

“The other week,” Matt began slowly, “when I came home injured and had a bad night out? Do you remember when I told you that I'd run into someone from my past?”

You nodded. Of course you remembered that night, it had been the sole cause of that damn recurring nightmare ever since then. And you'd never stopped wondering just who he'd run into that had gotten such good hits on him through the protection of his red suit, or who’d put him in such a foul mood.

“Yes,” you answered.

“It was Frank,” Matt confessed. “I caught him chasing after someone that night. I got in his way and stopped him because I will not have anyone killing people, especially not in my city. But of course he didn't…agree with me. At first. Not until after we'd fought.”

“Oh,” you said, everything beginning to make more sense. “So that’s who’d given you those bruises?”

Matt nodded, his gaze still downcast. “We’d come to a sort of agreement afterwards, Frank and I. But then a few days later I find out him and Karen started seeing each other. Which is just–” he paused, shaking his head, “–completely absurd. He’s dangerous. He attracts dangerous people with what he’s doing.” His head rose up, his attention returning to you. “Which is why I want you to stay away from him. I don’t need you getting caught up in anything he has going on, alright? It’s not safe.”

You held up your hands, eyes going wide. “Okay, okay,” you replied. “Like I said, I really don’t think I’m about to become best friends with the Punisher, even if Karen is dating him. But again…I can’t exactly avoid him completely, either. I’m not going to stop being friends with Karen, Matt.”

Matt blew out a rough breath, nodding slowly. “I know, and I’m not asking you to do that,” he replied. “Just…keep some distance from Frank. Please?”

“Okay,” you assured him with a nod. “I can do that. Now can I have my Matty back and the growly Devil can come back later tonight? Because I’ve had a long day and I was looking forward to walking home with you.”

A small smile grew on his face, the tension somewhat easing further from his body as he nodded. You found yourself feeling a little more relaxed yourself at the sight, your mood beginning to lift back up. But then Foggy abruptly clapped his hands loudly together beside you, causing you to jump as your eyes flew over towards him.

“Great!” Foggy exclaimed. “Glad that’s settled finally. Now Matt, do you want to tell your girl about this weekend or should I?”

Your eyes shifted back and forth between the two men curiously. Foggy was smiling wide as if the past ten minutes hadn’t just happened while a little smirk began playing along Matt’s lips. Eyes narrowing suspiciously back at him, you wondered what else was going on.

“What?” you asked.

“We were invited to a gala for this weekend–” Matt began.

“Last minute, of course,” Foggy cut in, clearly too excited to let Matt take the lead, “because I’m sure it was meant as a slight against our firm. But either way, we still got an invite.”

Matt chuckled, the warm sound a welcome one after how angry he’d just been. You couldn’t help the little smile from spreading out along your face as Foggy’s energy started to rub off on you.

“It’s to raise money for underprivileged children in the city,” Foggy continued. “It’s an annual thing, but it’s this fancy gala that quite a few prestigious names in the city attend. And we get to go this year!”

“Wow,” you said, attention returning to Matt as your excitement for them grew. “That sounds like a great opportunity for the firm!”

“Well,” Matt began, that smirk still on his lips, “I was hoping you’d grant me the privilege of being my lovely date to the event this Saturday evening.”

The smile immediately faltered on your face at his question. You noticed the way Matt caught your reaction with the slight tilt of his head and faint furrow of his brows. Fingers once again nervously toying with the straps of your purse, you tried to hide the anxiety that suddenly flooded you.

“Does uh, does this fancy gala have a dress code?” you asked hesitantly.

“It’s black tie,” Foggy answered.

You winced, chewing your lip nervously. “Oh,” you breathed out. “And it’s… this Saturday? Because I–I don’t exactly have anything to wear to something so…nice.”

The smirk returned to Matt’s face almost immediately. “Neither does Karen,” he told you. “So she’s taking tomorrow off to go shopping for a dress. And I figured maybe you could take the day off and go with her. Have a nice girl's day together. Pick out whatever you want on me. Dress, shoes, purse. All of it.”

Your eyebrows immediately shot up onto your forehead in surprise. Matt had never done anything like that for you before. In fact, no one had. Beside him, you saw Foggy nudge Matt with an elbow.

“Always so damn smooth, Murdock,” he teased.

The cocky smirk only grew on Matt’s lips as he remained focused on you. “So what do you say, sweetheart?” he asked. “Care to accompany me this weekend?”

Teeth clamping down on your lip, you tried to fight back the smile attempting to take over your face. A black tie event meant that you’d get to see Matt in a tux again–a rare treat. And there was absolutely no way you were going to miss that opportunity.

“I’d love to,” you answered. 

Matt’s smirk grew into a wide grin, the anger he’d been feeling moments ago entirely replaced by a look of love as he gazed back at you. And now you secretly found yourself looking forward to having him with you Saturday night instead of out as the Devil once more.

hello, platonic aventurine with an in-debt teen reader?

Oooh!! I really love this idea, anon! Thank you for the great request!! And I'm sorry for the long wait, I'm sick and busy with fulltime work/school, so yeah, I hope this won't be too bad...

Content: Spoilers for the most recent Penacony quest!!, small mentions of potential child slavery??, Reader is a young teen and works for the IPC, platonic older brother figure Aventurine, angst, talks of debt, bitter sweet mood, sfw Reader has no set pronouns! ((Not proofread at all, but may edit mistakes later!!!))

Aventurine couldn't help but listen in, when he heard about you from Topaz. You were very young, as young as he was when he first joined the IPC, and the massive debt you had already accumulated on your shoulders at said age, made you a slave to the organisation from the start. He had no information on why you owed them as much as you did, but he guessed it was just another way for the IPC to make you... "repay" them for their heartwarming efforts of "saving" you. Either way, you peaked his interest enough to be taken in by him.

He was a little hard on you at the beginning, not because of any malicious reasons, but rather to ensure your survival in your new life and environment. It was a way to toughen you up, before he finally relaxed and allowed himself to be more playful with you. He's kind in his own special way, as he offers to help you out with your debt in turn of you essentially becoming his assistant. He gave you meaningless work most of the time, nothing that could stress you out or put you in any danger. He basically kept you around to watch and learn, always making sure you saw the bigger picture in all of his plans or gambles. A sense of pride fills him, when you started thinking more like him.

Aventurine saw a younger him in you and he figured that it was exactly why he cared for you so much. His days were numbered, but he wanted you to live out yours on your own terms, just how he always wanted it to. It's what led him to take you with him to Penacony without anyone officially knowing about it. It was supposed to just be a small "vacation", or at least that's the version he told you.

He told you many small, white lies. White lies that set you free for life, when he finally won his final gamble against the world and left you with everything he ever owned in the physical realm. Your debt was paid off, your shackles destroyed and you were officially let go from your "job" and existence in the IPC all in one day. You were free and so terribly alone to now do as you please, go wherever you please... just not with him there this time.

It was a bittersweet win for the both of you, as you wordlessly parted ways from the family you found in eachother even if for a small moment.

Alright, this one lowkey hurt to write and think about, considering how tragic Aventurine's charakter in general is. But anyhow, I hope you liked it, Anon, and thank you again for the great request!!<33

I am ready to make my BATFAMILY problem everyone else’s problem again, I have just woken up and I am choosing violence. And by violence, I mean that a whole bunch of these fics made me laugh or wriggle around in pure love for these chaos gremlins or just straight up cried my way through like 30k+ of fic in one night and I want everyone else to experience that same gamut of emotion. Especially because I have a Dick Grayson Problem and I’m going to make you all deal with that, but in return, you all get to make me deal with your Jason Problem, your Tim Problem, your Damian Problem, etc., because now those problems are my problems, too. So you may have to scroll a bit to find what you’re looking for, but I hope there will be some fun stuff for almost every Bat character here, and I’m tearing my way through as much fic as I can as fast as I can, but if you want to make more fic my problem in return, please feel free. What else is fandom for, if not for trying to make each other cry four times in a 10k fic? BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ terrible sting, terrible storm by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & harvey, 3.2k      Bruce takes in a five-year-old Dick Grayson, and Harvey offers his two cents. ✦ Telescopes and Ladders by RenaRoo, dick & bruce, 5.3k      Alfred leaves for England on business and leaves the Manor to Bruce and a young Dick for a week. Bruce realizes he doesn’t know how to Adult for a child on his own. ✦ When the Bough Breaks by SKH, dick & bruce & alfred, 6.2k      Dick’s first year at Wayne Manor ✦ Training Wheels by kuonji, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.6k      Alfred finds himself in turns bemused, horrified, and exasperated, as their temporary houseguest to Wayne Manor becomes so much more. ✦ Cling-On by Bjurnberg, dick & bruce & justice league, 1.8k      Robin is clinging onto Batman’s leg, refusing to let go - and Batman is hiding him under the cape during a Justice League meeting. ✦ Beam Me Up (I don’t want to be alone anymore) by laydowntoearth, dick & bruce & justice league, 3.9k      Dick didn’t like this silence. Not at all. But Bruce was at a meeting at the Watchtower. And he couldn’t just break into the Watchtower. Right? ✦ sunshowers by emavee, dick & bruce, 3.7k      Bruce learns how to show physical affection to the kid in his care. There’s a bit of a learning curve, but he and Dick are in it together. ✦ Without a Mask by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce, 2.3k      In which Dick is kidnapped for the very first time and Bruce swears he’s going to have a heart attack. ✦ Hello Fadduh by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & bruce, 2.2k      Camp had seemed like a good idea at the time. So maybe sleepaway hadn’t been a part of Bruce’s childhood, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be part of Dick’s. ✦ A Close One by blizzard, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.2k      Twenty-three year old Bruce is new at being a dad and is learning how to balance parenting and being a billionaire philanthropist playboy. He ends up taking his six year old to a cocktail party despite Alfred’s protests, and runs into some trouble. Naturally. ✦ night terrors by glassofwater, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k      Bruce doesn’t know what to do. How do you help someone when you haven’t helped yourself? More to the point, how can he even begin to think of helping someone so small? BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Chirp by SpaceWall, dick & bruce & batfam, 3.2k      When Dick’s siblings learn he was never actually adopted by Bruce they attempt the most logical option. A parent sibling trap. ✦ The Game by myrina-lux, dick & bruce & cast, 17.3k wip      After a long night patrolling, Dick returns home to find an unwelcome message. The young hero decides to view it as a challenge, however, and begins a sly game with his mentor. ✦ Trade Your Heroes for Ghosts by CaramelMachete, dick & bruce, 1k      The day after Nightwing’s shooting, Batman sits by his bedside and waits. ✦ Plan B by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & bruce & cast, 2.9k      Dick was sure no part of the perfect plan Batman and Red Robin had set involved Nightwing clinging to a raft in the middle of an angry Gotham sea. But, well. Things didn’t always go according to the plan did they? ✦ like brothers on a hotel bed by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 7.9k      Dick and Bruce have been on shaky terms for a while, but they realize that none of that matters when they’re both captured on an impromptu team-up. To make matters worse, one of their captors has a grudge against Dick, who already isn’t at the top of his game due to injuries. Separated, Bruce can only watch and hope that someone finds them before it’s too late. ✦ Smile by glassofwater, dick & bruce, ~1k      Sometimes, Bruce can’t help but miss his son’s old smiles. ✦ cut down by Squishychickies, dick & bruce & jason & alfred & damian, 4.1k      Maybe I am sad, he thinks, if only because it’s smart to go down that avenue before discounting it entirely. Scientists are open to all possible conclusions. Perhaps Dick is, in fact, sad. Dick is depressed. He has Bruce’s support. ✦ After the Wake by nighhtwing (divineauthor), dick & bruce & alfred & jason & cast, 1.6k      Fathers should not bury their children. Or: When Jason dies, Dick comes home, and Bruce muses on being a parent. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ When Destiny Doesn’t Care by withthekeyisking, dick & bruce & damian & jason & cast, read the tags, 9.9k      Breeches are opening all across the world, admitting people randomly from other Earths. One such person is Dick Grayson. Or, as he’s better known on Earth-2950, Deathstroke. ✦ When it Rains by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cassandra, 7.7k      “What about yourself, Richard?” asks the reporter, widening her own insincere smile to match as she turns her torso half an inch towards him. “As the eldest I am sure you are simply overjoyed to have your brother back but, might I ask: why is it, do you think, that you are the only one of Mister Wayne’s children that he hasn’t formally adopted?” ✦ I broke free on a Saturday morning by daringyounggrayson, dick & roy & bruce & cast, 10k      Spring break is coming up, but between a canceled family vacation and an ongoing fight with Bruce, Dick’s not exactly looking forward to it. He decides that the only way to get through the two-week break with his sanity intact is by taking an unauthorized road trip to California. He convinces Roy to come with him, conveniently leaving out the fact that Dick doesn’t have permission from Bruce to go. Everything goes well up until it doesn’t. ✦ One More Day by EagleInFlight, dick & damian & john/mary & jason & tim & alfred, 12.6k      Damian saves a dog—who was a goddess of the dead in disguise. She offers him a gift: the chance to spend a week with a deceased loved one. Damian decides to give his gift to someone else. /OR/ Dick Grayson reunites with his parents. ✦ Skating is something you don’t do in Gotham by glassofwater, dick & bruce & damian & cast, 4.6k     Winter in Gotham isn’t always pleasant, and trying to wait out a drug deal in below freezing temperatures makes it all the more unbearable. It would have been tolerable, at least somewhat, if he had seen the ice. ✦ starlight raining over me by charcoal_moon, dick & hal & wally & barry & jinx & cast, 23.6k      The Flying Graysons fall in Coast City instead of Gotham, and Dick Grayson’s path to heroism involves a hell of a lot more faith, trust, and alien tech than anyone ever expected. ✦ i want to wake up (i hate this dream) by CamsthiSky, dick & alfred, 2.3k      Sometimes, Dick feels like a zombie. Like he’s the walking dead. Like nothing will ever be good again. Sometimes, he takes too much weight onto his shoulders, and he never puts it down. There’s a point where he crumbles to dust underneath all that weight, and there’s nothing for him to do but ride the breakdown and wait until he can bear the weight and start the whole process over again. ✦ if you just call me by BeatriceEagle, dick & donna & cast, 9.1k      Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Where Dick and Jason Argue Because They Love Each Other by CamsthiSky, dick & jason, 2k      Dick gets hurt and both him and Jason make “Your Face” jokes, because sometimes you gotta distract yourself from dying with dumb sibling bickering. ✦ hot wheels by envysparkler, dick & jason & bruce, 4.1k      Jason tries his luck stealing tires in Bludhaven. It doesn’t go any better. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Tidied by BrickSheep, dick & damian & bruce, 1.1k      Damian doesn’t complain when Dick fusses over his clothing. Bruce doesn’t know what to think of it. It’s nothing like the uncompliant son he knew. ✦ When You’re The One Who’s Loved by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & tim, 1.9k      Damian doesn’t understand why Dick is so upset. Tim does, though. ✦ bedtime passed by renecdote, dick & damian, 1.2k      Dick returns from patrol and finds his Robin waiting up for him. He carries Dami to bed and things get fluffy. ✦ Wheel and Blade by Kieron_ODuibhir, dick & damian, 2.4k      Damian was waiting in the penthouse when Dick got there, all expectant expression and confrontational stance. Dick closed the door behind him and let himself be confronted. “You didn’t get expelled,” he announced. This was, unsurprisingly, not greeted with relief. (In our house there are many legacies.) ✦ what life without you’s like by dizarys, dick & damian & alfred & bruce, 1.3k      Dick threw the door open, leaping over the hood of the Batmobile and wrenching open the passenger door. His cowl was already down, letting Alfred see the undiluted fear on his face as he reached into the car. “He only stopped screaming a few minutes ago. I think he made himself pass out.” Alfred’s gut twisted when Dick straightened, Robin cradled in his arms. ✦ Just a Little TLC by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian, 1.7k      Dick was not sick. Really. He was fine. Fine! ✦ When Dick Met Dick by pupeez4eva, dick & damian, time travel, 1k      Rebellious, teenage, Nightwing!Dick travels to the future and meets doting, overprotective, Batman!Dick. Time-travel fic. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ The Return by silverwhittlingknife, dick & tim & cast, 10.8k      “Tim? Can you open your eyes for me?“ It takes a bit, but Tim must be at least sort of coherent, because he blinks obediently. Dark, dark eyes, dilated. Concussion, almost for sure. Both pupils are equally large, so they’ve avoided a worse injury. But his eyes aren’t tracking or focusing, lost in space. “Tim, do you know where you are?” Tim’s forehead is all tense, like he’s thinking hard. “I,” he hazards after a long moment, “I fell?” Red Robin 11 and 12, from Dick’s POV. Tim comes home. ✦ you are somebody’s baby; some mother held you near by nosecoffee, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cast, 11.9k      “Oh my god,” Nightwing whispers, echoing through their comms like a twig snapping underfoot when you’re trying to be silent. He and Batgirl go stiff and silent, barely daring to breathe. “B, oh my god. How many…?” The tone in his voice — he sounds like he’s about to cry. There were six kids on our radar, Jason thinks, erratically. Six. “I don’t know, Nightwing.” ✦ and the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light by popsunner, tim & damian (& dick), 5.4k      Damian is around a lot more since Dick died, hovering like he’s looking for something that isn’t here anymore. It’s alright. Tim is used to playing the part of ghosts. Or: Dick is dead. Things change ✦ utter my love by dizarys, tim & bruce & dick & jason & damian & tim/bernard, 5.6k      “Dick!” Bernard greeted him with a smile. A heartbeat later, it melted away. Bernard’s knuckles went white around the edge of the door. “What happened?” Dick didn’t know what he’d done to give it away but there was no point in beating around the bush. “Tim’s been shot.” The aftermath of Tim’s injury in Batman #125 ✦ long distance by unchosenone, dick & tim, 1.6k      Six months—months—radio silence, and Tim is calling him. Dick doesn’t even know where Tim is. He scrambles for the phone. ✦ A Smile Safecrackers Understand by chapstickaddict, clark/bruce/diana & dick & jason & tim & duke & cast, 44.6k wip      Seven times a Justice League member helped out a BatFam kid, making a reluctant friend for life in Bruce Wayne. And one time he thanked them for it. ✦ We’ve Taken Different Paths, Traveled Different Roads by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & tim, 2.2k      Dick is suddenly very awake. He bolts upright, staring at the dimly lit figure. “Tim?” “Hi, Dick,” Tim whispers. He isn’t in uniform for once, instead wearing a pair of sweats and a shirt that Dick recognizes as one of Bruce’s. Dick was wondering where that went. “Jesus, kid,” Dick exhales, an uncertain mixture of disbelief and bafflement. “What are you doing here?” Tim and Dick are still in a fight of sorts, or are they? Have they made up yet, or is the terrain still cracked? Dick wants so badly to ask, but just having Tim in the same room as him is already more than Dick could have hoped he’d get. ✦ Subject Hostile, Proceed with Caution by emiv, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim, 1.1k      Bruce preps the boys for an upcoming mission. (Post-TLYS) ✦ Shock the Monkey by TheResurrectionist, hal & jason & damian & batkids & background clark/bruce, 5.9k      Hal Jordan babysits the Batfamily for a day. It goes about as well as expected. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Your Horoscope For Today by anthologia, tim/kon, NSFW, ~1k      Kon develops the ability to heal people with his dick. No, really. ✦ Non-Public Displays of Affection by irrelevant, tim/kon, NSFW, 4.7k      It’s all about the shirt. No, really. ✦ To Touch and Be Touched by Merelymine, tim/kon, NSFW, 2.5k      He has to—he needs to get away, and it would be funny if he wasn’t so turned on. ✦ Under Pressure by orphan_account, tim/kon, NSFW, fuck or die, 5.4k      Tim is poisoned by aliens who want to see see how humans mate. Kon is the only one in the cell with him and they both struggle with their emotions as they try to work out what to do. ✦ A Night In by Musafir, tim/kon & bruce & dick & jason & damian, 5.9k      In which Tim attends a remote meeting with the BatClan and inadvertently learns that they have all given his husband the Bat version of The Talk. ✦ time flies by by Laroyena, tim/kon & clark & lex & jon, 6.5k      Jon Kent is Superboy. Tim’s gut instinct tells him that’s wrong. (Timkon fix-it where reboot!Tim misses Kon like a phantom limb. And then he gets him back.) ✦ good for you by Anonymous, tim/kon, NSFW, 3k      Tim can sometimes be a little shit, but Kon has gotten pretty good at reading his moods. Besides, they both kind of like it. ✦ Boss Me Around by egg_thief, tim/kon, NSFW, transmasc!tim, dom/sub elements, 2k      Tim suddenly pulls away. “I didn’t tell you to move,” he muses, his voice dangerously low. “I need you to be a good boy, ok?” Kon swallows, his mouth having gone dry at Tim’s words. When and where did he learn all of-? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the way that his words make Kon’s dick jump, his heart quickening in pace. ✦ Top Shelf Goods by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & cassie & bart, 4k      Or, Tim pretends to be Conner’s boyfriend, just to help him avoid unwanted attention. Because that’s what friends do. Pretend to be romantically involved even though they are definitely not interested in each other in that way and it would totally never happen. Definitely. ✦ Take My Word for It by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 8.6k      Tim has been hiding his mental health problems from Kon. Kon can tell something is wrong when it starts affecting their relationship. He may be out of his depth, but he’ll do whatever he can to make his boyfriend happy. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Spill of the War by 2012bookworm, dick & jason & tim & cast, read the tags at the end of the fic, 64.2k      It takes a second, but the realization Jason comes to is horrifying. “You dosed yourself. With Joker venom.” Tim nods, still smiling, still shivering. At least the laughter has tapered off, not that that really makes this better, not that anything could make this better. ✦ the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cast, 26.5k      Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well. ✦ The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & alfred & cast, 52.5k      What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time. ✦ Whumptober 2021 by dizarys, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, 42k      Jason tried to tighten his hold but blood made Dick’s gauntlet too slick. His hand slipped free. A wordless, desperate sound clawed its way out of Jason’s throat as Dick tumbled towards the murky water. Without hesitation Jason let go, plummeting after him. ✦ When it Rains by vellaphoria, dick & tim & cass, read the tags, 5.7k      After Cass and Tim return from Paris, something seems… wrong. Dick tries to find out what it is.

i needddddddddddd a luffy angst or smut pleaseeeeee idc abt the storyline or if its short or long i js need luffy so badly

Second Place

Characters: Luffy x Wife!reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You loved Luffy, and you knew that he loved you too. However, you also know that you will always be 2nd place to his love. He was more in love with being the king of the pirates and it’s starting to show. And you had enough.

Warning: bad relationships, angst, bad ending, slightly ooc Luffy tbh, no proofread

—

You laid there, on your cold bed in the middle of the night. The only light source was the dimmed moonshine from the window, but otherwise, it was pitch black and silent. You always tried waiting up for Luffy, so you could sneak in a goodnight kiss and maybe a light conversation.

You always loved your nighttime conversations with him. It'll be you two, in this very bed, talking about anything and everything until you both fell asleep in eachother’s arms. That's how you would wake up too.

But those times were nothing but a distant memory. Something to warm you while you laid there cold and lonely.

When Luffy did make it through the door, he was quiet. Maybe he didn’t want to disturb? That’s what you thought at first too. Until you realize it was because he was injured in some fight or mission you weren’t made aware of. You weren’t made aware of a lot of things.

You recalled vividly of when you first discovered.

You sat there on the bed reading with a candle lit. By this time you were knocked out snoring but you wanted to at least say talk with your husband first. With he’s busy schedule, it was hard to make time for each other so this was the next best thing.

You saw the bedroom door opening and it revealed Luffy. But he looked more than just tired. His skin was pale and clammy, he looked absolutely terrible.

Immediately, you were up and out of bed. You walked towards him, your brows frowned with worry but before you could utter a single word, he shuts you down.

“Don’t.” He said and laid down on the bed with a deep sigh.

You stood there, in shock and dismayed. It was rude, it was dismissive. As if you were a nagging child and not a concerned wife.

You glared down at him, “Well excuse me for worrying about my husband.” You laid down on the bed, at the edge of your side and with your back to him. You heard him sigh and shift in the bed.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m…I’m just stressed. With all of the missions and—”

You sat up and turned to him, “Missions? Since when did you have missions?”

You don’t remember anyone telling you about missions at all. To you, the Strawhats hadn’t been on a single mission for a month, which you thought was weird but you didn’t know much about pirates to question it.

You saw as Luffy winced, “Oh, sorry. I guessed I forgot to tell you. Was to busy planning them, hehe.” He laughed softly, obviously trying to lightened the mood.

You didn’t want that, however. You had plenty of questions, but. This was probably the first time in weeks you gotten to talk to Luffy. An actual conversation, not just quick greetings and chaste kisses.

You sighed and got comfortable on the bed. You were noticeable closer to Luffy now.

“Well tell me about the missions? Where’d you go? What’d you take?”

Luffy chuckled at your questions and went into full detail about all of the things you missed out.

But that was two months ago and things have only gotten worse. There are times where Luffy barely acknowledged you, he makes no time for you, nor does he put in any effort to your marriage.

It was always you scheduling dates that had to be canceled, it’s always you wanting to talk but he’s too tired to give you the time of day, and it’s always you making sure he takes care of his wounds. Or gets enough sleep. Or he eats something that isn’t meat.

You understood that Luffy wanted to be King of the Pirates but he was becoming increasingly reckless in his pursuits. Which meant more wounds that you needed to take care of because he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

You were tired of it. You felt like a servant rather than a wife. You guessed you weren’t enough. Wiping off the stray tears from your cheeks, you began to pack your clothes. The Going Merry was docked at some island—you had forgotten the name but you had some money saved up. You’ll be fine without him.

With your bags packed, you started twisting the ring on your finger. It was a pretty thing, something you thought you would always wear until your dying breath. You slipped it off your finger and placed it on the desk that was overflowing with maps of foreign lands.

“What are you doing?” You heard Luffy. You turned to see him standing at the doorway. His eyes caught to your packed bags and the ring that was on the desk.

His expression was unreadable but it obviously wasn’t happy.

“I’m leaving,” you responded and pushed passed him. Surprisingly, he followed you. He didn’t utter a word to you until you got to the docks, you guessed that he assumed you were bluffing, but you weren't.

“Why?!” You heard Luffy shout and that stopped you in your tracks. It made your blood run cold that he even had the audacity to ask such a question.

“Excuse me? Don’t ask stupid questions like that, Luffy,” you glared up at him.

He ran after you, grabbing your arm to stop you from moving, “How is it a stupid question?! How is it a stupid question to ask why my wife is leaving me?”

“Oh so now I’m your wife,” you sassed. “Luffy, when was the last time we kissed? Held hands? Hell, when was the last time we had a conversation that wasn’t about your recklessness?! When was the last time you held me in your arms?!”

His face betrayed no emotion, “I…I know I haven’t been the best husband, I can admit that. But, you know how important my dream is to me. To be the best of the best, I have to work hard.”

You tilted your head. Feeling your heart break all over again, you asked him the question that’s been weighing on your mind for a while.

“Is being the pirate king more important than me? Than being a good husband?” You asked.

You knew the answer. It was obvious to you, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Now—“

“It’s a yes or no, Luffy. Answer the question,” You pressed him

"Listen, you know that it's always been my dream to become the Pirate King, and that comes with sacrifices," Luffy explained. He stepped closer to you and attempted to touch your arm but you pulled away. Your rejection didn't stop him from continuing, "But never doubt that I don't love you. Because I do and--"

You smiled sharply, "You may love me or think that you love me, but I will always be second place in your dreams. Your dreams would always take priority over me and I..I cannot accept that. Not anymore." You said and turned around, trying to blink back the tears.

Luffy wasn't the best husband in the world, that was obvious. But when he was there and present, he was so, so good to you. Your best friend, your confidant, your "forever". And while a small part of you still loved Luffy, still wanted him to hear him say that you are his number one, you knew that it was only a dream that would never come true.

You turn back around one last time and leave him with this, "Goodbye, Luffy. I hope you get your dream."

-

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