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some-bunniii · 1 month

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Lucifer dotes on a pregnant!reader

・❥ Congrats, you’re pregnant! It’s not Luci’s, but nobody can tell the difference with how much he adores you and your baby

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: based on @ukor02’s prompt! reader is fem with no use of y/n. enjoy 🤍

~ 27k words!! Ya’ll…. :’)

[read it in chapters on my ao3!]

“Please, Mr. Demur! Can’t I pay you next week? I’ll have enough by then, I promise.”

“How many ‘next weeks’ are we going to have here, hm? If I don’t start making money on these units, I won’t be able to pay off my own debts. I can’t let you keep living here rent-free!”

You grimaced as your landlord continued to speak across the line, his voice harsh against your ear as you held the small phone against it. Your nails clicked nervously against the wooden countertop of your kitchen, the sound reverberating around the room, helping to drown out your thoughts.

You had been very behind on monthly dues. Your income wasn’t enough to support all your woes anymore, which meant you were struggling to pay rent and afford groceries. Hell’s inflation was getting pretty crazy, and without a second source of income, you were doomed.

You had a second source of income when your boyfriend lived with you and worked for maintenance at VoxTek. Until you found him rolling under the sheets with your next-door neighbor, one of Valentino’s girls who decided that she’d expand her interests to family men.

He had begged for your forgiveness when you dragged him by the ear towards the front door. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise!’ he had pleaded, moaning for your mercy. Right, like you were going to trust a demon from Lust to stay loyal any longer.

What a fool you were, giving him all those chances. Now, you were taking the hit for everything. Alone. Regret ate at the back of your mind, should you have let him stay? If not for your feelings, at least to have kept a roof over your head for you and…

Your gaze traveled slowly down to the small bump on your abdomen, the unspoken words shouting that you ever had relations with a man. Your unborn baby.

The baby your boyfriend knew about, a week before he brought that woman into your home. Yet, he still shoved you aside for a hotter piece of trash. The nerve.

How were you going to support a whole other helpless, tiny being now? If only you could get some empathy from your landlord, appeal to his second nature…

“I understand your difficulties, trust me, I do! But—”

“If you understand that,” your landlord over the phone finally growled out, “then you’ll understand that I’m giving you three days to pack up all your things, and get out of my unit!”

The line ended, that soft buzzing in your ear the only thing keeping you grounded atop the kitchen stool you were quietly shaking on.

Out? He was evicting you? That wasn’t fair! You’ve lived here for years, and a few late payments are what ends your relationship with the little one-bedroom apartment? Ridiculous!

What were you going to do now? There was nobody to lean on for help, not anymore. Not after your boyfriend left, and your best friend ran off with some royal shitbag down to the Envy Ring, and who even knows where your parents were these days.

It was just you, and the little bean who’d call you Mama soon enough.

Your hand lowered, thumb grazing soothingly against the small protrusion in your belly. Tears pricked at your eyes, hot and angry as you fumed silently. Was this it? The end of any happiness in your life? Forced to grovel like a dog to some powerful entity, or sign a contract that rips free will from your grasp?

You shivered at the thought. No. That's not how you were going to go out, not without a fight. Even in a dark and brooding place like Hell, you’d try to live a happy and comfortable life, if not for you, at least for the baby growing in your womb.

Maybe, when the child is born, you won't feel so lonely anymore. They’d be someone to snuggle with at night, curled up against your chest as the two of you lounged on the sofa. The soft words emanating from the TV across the room like a lullaby to their tiny ears, as they drank in the warmth of your body, drifting into blissful sleep.

You’d lower your nose and breathe in that fresh, sweet baby scent from the top of their head, filling you with another dose of pure love and adoration. That child would be fawned over for, well, forever. Even if you were the only one going to share that love, you could wait for them to grow older and return some of it.

That made you smile, imagining the little pitter-pattering of feet against tile flooring as you baked the toddler delicious treats and cooked delicacies that made their little mouth water. That gleam of awe in their eye as the flavors swirled against their tongue, their brain growing fuzzy with pleasure.

That’s the life you would live, and not some cardboard box in the alleyway begging for scraps.

“Alright, looks like Mama has some work to do,” you spoke softly to the quiet, empty room. You weren’t sure whether the little bean could hear your voice nestled so far in your belly, but at this point, you were willing to chat up thin air if it kept your sanity.

It wasn’t going to be easy, that was for sure. You needed a stable income, instead of picking up odd jobs popping up on the streets. Then, you needed to find a place to stay, it could be anything, even a barn. As long as it was somewhere with a little room and comfort, it would do for the time being. You’d have to upgrade when the baby was born, though, maybe to a two-bedroom apartment this time.

Quickly, you lifted your phone and typed in the now-familiar phrase ‘Places hiring in Pentagram City’. You scrolled, favoriting every job that offered a decent income and was manageable for you.

Being pregnant was going to make things difficult, seeing as you’d be unable to do many physical tasks sometime down the road in the coming months. Which would give you very few options soon.

Your feet hit the soft carpet of the living room, and you rubbed your eyes sleepily. That nausea that had been plaguing you early in the morning was draining you physically, and the stress that was beginning to build on your shoulders only zapped your mental strength.

A few hours of beauty sleep, and then you’d get your ass to work.

Your stomach growled, moaning for substance, and you sighed. Okay, a nap and lunch… then, you’d be moving toward financial stability. One step at a time, and now a tiny bean to think about.

Sooner or later, you’d get there.

Before eviction day, you had managed to find an open position at a small convenience store in a much quieter part of the city. Residential neighborhoods wrapped around the row of stores inside a quaint, little market at the edge of the city.

You looked into the large display windows that bordered the front door to the dark purple shop. ‘We’re Hiring!’ in bold lettering on a corner of the glass pane, beneath the rows of chips and other snacks on a tall shelf standing a few feet behind the window. Right beneath that flashy sign, was a smaller piece of paper taped hastily to the glass surface. “Room Available for rent’ was scrawled in unkempt handwriting, and your eyes widened in excitement.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the cold, metal handle and pulled the door open. The golden bell above your head jingled a faint tune as you stepped through the threshold. Your eyes take in the old, wooden shelves that hung on either side of the room, while shorter displays were lined neatly in rows spanning wall to wall filled with snacks, home essentials, and more.

The place was kind of a mess, but… it felt rather homey. A ‘Mom and Pop’ shop kinda of thing, stirring nostalgic emotions inside of you. When you reached an older demon, her back hunched slightly with age and the weight of the large shell on her back, you realized how your feelings couldn’t get any more accurate.

Green skin sagged from the elderly woman’s face, deep wrinkles embedded into her reptilian features as she regarded you with suspicion. She resembled pretty closely to a tortoise, with that round, thick shell that lay upon her back and neck that extended high from her body. She held a broom in her long claws, halting mid-sweep as you smiled gently at her.

“Can I help you?” She croaked.

“I’m here for the job opening, the general worker position?” Your smile widened, trying to look as presentable and friendly as possible. This may not be the job of your dreams, but it was a job nonetheless, a start.

“You Hellborn?”

“Yes.” What an odd question.

“You can lift and move large boxes?”

“Sure can!” You replied, with a quick nod. For the next few months, at least. If you couldn’t find a new job by the time your belly was unable to be hidden any longer, you’d spill the beans to granny.

“Hm,” the wrinkled demon eyed you with more interest, and she tilted her head in thought for a few moments, before meeting your gaze again, “I think I can make do with what’s in front of me, for now.”

Not even an interview? What a score!

A sigh of relief escaped you, the invisible weight on your shoulders lightening slightly as you shook hands with the turtle. The job wasn’t going to be that difficult, cashiering, stocking, talking to customers, easy peasy. Until the swollen ankles kicked in.

“Oh, and the room for rent! I’m kinda in need of some living arrangements for now. Do you still have availability?” You clasped your hands, smiling widely once more.

“We have space…” The old, turtle-faced demon sighed, turning her large shell to face you, before ambling away towards a dark hallway behind the small checkout counter. She beckoned you with her thick tail that slowly swayed behind her as she moved.

Slowly, you followed behind the woman, entering what seemed to be the large back room of the store, piles of boxes labeled as different foodstuffs, with thick, heavy bags of an assortment of goods. There looked to be a large freezer on one wall, as it blew cold air that seeped into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you crossed the room.

The turtle demon stopped at a light-brown wooden door, before softly turning the handle and pulling it open. She leaned through the doorway as far as her wide shell would allow and tugged on a thin string hanging from the ceiling. With a click, the small bulb above your head flickered on, illuminating what seemed like a large, dusty storage closet. You gulped, this was tiny! It was the size of a small bedroom, but was supposed to be your entire living unit? You pointed into the lit room, quirking a brow in disbelief.

“Is this…?”

“The room available, yes.”

“It’s kind of… small.”

“Well, what did ya expect, a two-bedroom with a loft? It’s less than a hundred for a reason. The bathroom is next door, so it's a quick walk. We’ve got a hose in the back you can use to shower, and you got a place to buy most of your essentials just a hallway over.”

You thought for a few moments, rubbing your hands together as your mind raced with what other options you currently had. None, really. Anywhere else you had gone to seek employment had already found someone or deemed you unqualified for the position. Let's see… the alleyway or a closet? Hard choice.

“Also, utilities are included in the rent.”

Well, that was a good bargain.

“Okay, sure” you nodded slowly, rubbing your face with a sigh, “This’ll work.”

“Good. We’ll just take rent out of your paycheck, then. The name is Alma, let me show you around.”

You had followed her back out to the front of the store, before being walked through the job and every detail your new boss, Alma, found necessary to fill you in on. How to work the old cash register, keys for every door inside the building, where the gun was hidden underneath the counter in case anyone was to rob the store and use it for defense.

When you returned home later that day, your back hit the door and you slid to the ground with a sigh. Your stomach rumbled, and you tenderly rubbed a hand across the protrusion underneath your skin. Rising to your feet, you headed to the kitchen, digging through all the junk for any healthier options you had. There wasn’t much, but you settled on a small microwave meal and placed it into the little appliance.

As the microwave buzzed softly, it filled your head with background noise to your quiet thoughts. Thoughts about your future, your chances at success, your baby, or your loneliness navigating such a turbulent time in your life.

Hopefully, once you had a good night’s sleep and packed up in the morning, the doubts about your decision that were eating at your conscience would fade. Everything was going to be very different from here on out, but maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” you whispered into the empty room once more.

It had been a few months since you arrived at that quaint, little shop looking for a job and a place to stay. After a few months, your stomach only continued to grow.

You had hidden the sight through baggy clothes at first, careful to keep your secret hidden from prying eyes. Until running to the bathroom all the time and your sudden bouts of exhaustion made you reveal the fact to Alma.

She had rolled her eyes, before grumbling how ‘as long as you’re still able to work’ there wouldn’t be any problems regarding your employment.

There wasn’t much you brought over from your apartment, not even your bed could fit comfortably inside the little room. Instead, you resorted to a one-person mat that only lifted you from the floor a couple of inches. At first, it sucked, really, really sucked. Soon enough, you adjusted to the tension in your back that always woke you just in time for work.

You had brought a few trinkets with you, memories from your past, and small items to keep you busy. You brought that little microwave from your place, which was situated on a small coffee table on the wall across from your bed.

There was nothing for the baby, yet. You didn’t have anything to begin with, nor did you have the money to afford such things. Later, when the little bean was closer to arrival, you’d start hunting through garage sales and thrift stores. The only thing keeping you educated on your pregnancy was the few books detailing motherhood that were on sale at one of the local vendors.

Standing atop your microwave, was a small flatscreen TV, your only source of entertainment nowadays. Sure, you touch grass once in a while, exploring the market, brisk walks around the block, that sort of thing. Getting a workout made you hungry, though, and with your tiny paycheck? Three meals a day was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

The problem? You were always craving something to eat. Sweet treats, odd vegetables, food you used to hate. Once, you even drooled over a slab of raw meat you were packing away into a freezer, the thought of ripping it apart and devouring it right then and there itching at your scalp.

Instead, you opted for a large salad. While you made sure to eat enough to feed your baby, the quality of the food you were consuming wasn’t the greatest. Hopefully, you'll be able to afford healthier meals soon.

The work in the store was mundane, the customers lively but nothing worthwhile, and life was pretty stagnant after a few months of living there. Except for the changes in your body, those new aches and sores, the sudden dizziness that caused you to plop down upon the nearest surface.

It was one of these times when you felt your face numbing and your vision beginning to blur, and you fell upon an unopened box of goods. Hand lifting to wipe that dribble of sweat away, you took a deep breath. It was getting harder to do that, though, with how the baby in your womb was beginning to steal the space your lungs needed to expand.

It was a much hotter afternoon, the air simmered with acrid, dry heat that suffocated the store with its intensity. It was a weather normal pattern, but one you loathed nonetheless. A fan close to you finally swiveled in your direction, and you let the cool air smack you in the face with its soothing touch.

Alma wasn’t around, which meant she wasn’t able to catch you on another one of your on-the-clock breaks. Standing on your feet, lifting boxes and other items all shifts was not fun with a baby rolling around somewhere in your guts.

You were enjoying the momentary peace, eyes shut as you inhaled another large breath. The small TV hanging from the corner of the room, right behind the cashier register hummed softly as the news anchors yapped quietly about something or other.

When you opened your eyes, the congregation of large shadows at the front door caught your attention. Quickly, you rose from the cardboard box, fiddling with another small pile as you took a knife and tore it open. Bags of chips nestled together, your stomach grumbled softly at the multiple flavors it hosted.

You did your best to look busy, just as the door opened with a creak and the bell above its frame jingled excitingly about the fresh, new faces.

“I can't believe you made us take a walk in this weather, Charlie,” a feminine voice moaned as they crossed through the threshold. Their tall figure rose above the rows of shelves, pink fuzz popping from their partially exposed chest as they strode in. Both sets of arms were crossed, as they turned to meet the gaze of a woman with a bright red tuxedo.

Beside her was a shorter, gray-skinned woman who immediately placed herself in the direction of a whirring fan. One good eye scanned across the room, looking for nothing in particular.

A tall snake demon slithered in behind them, huffing as he collapsed onto a small bench next to the doorway. The hoods framing his face began to fan his heated skin, recuperating for a few moments.

“I agree with—huff—Angel Dusssssst,” The man hissed tiredly, swiping a claw over his brow to dry his forehead, “It sssseeems we have chosen a poor day to—huff—embark on our little excursion.”

“It is pretty hot today, but! That means we all sweat a little more, and burn off some of that negative energy!” The woman, Charlie, exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, “Clear our minds of all that clutter and embrace the heat of a new day!”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, grumbling something as he turned to a display of sunglasses, plucking out different pairs from the stand and fiddling with them on his face as he posed in the tiny mirror.

“Husk’a! Don’t I look fantabulous or what?” He turned towards a short, feline demon with quirked brows. He sent Husk a playful, sultry smirk which the feline only growled softly at, before reaching into a fridge for a large bottle of water.

“Ya look like shit,” he grumbled, popping the cap off and chugging down the drink in one go. It seemed like the guy did that often enough for the contents to disappear so quickly, which was pretty impressive. Hopefully, he was going to pay for that drink too.

“Awww, thanks kitty!”

The demons dispersed from their little group, scanning the shelves for any snack that would satisfy their hunger after that draining exercise.

You watched through careful glances as they wandered about. There was no doubt the group of demons had noticed you by now, but there was nothing special to see as you just continued hefting boxes across the room. The last one, a large crate of soda cans, was giving you a rough time.

Strength waning, you huffed as you slowly walked towards the wall of fridges. Straining as you try to shift your grip, your arm placement is awkward with your round stomach making it difficult to get good positioning on the container. Panic seized you for a moment, as you fumbled with your hold.

“Let me help you with that!” A cheery voice exclaimed from beside you, causing you to jump right as the crate was lifted from your grip into the arms of the apple-cheeked woman.

Charlie smiled brightly at you before she turned away, setting the crate down gently next to the fridge door. You fanned yourself, taking in a deep breath as the woman turned back to face you.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled apologetically, reaching up instinctively to brush a thumb gently over your bump, “heat and exhaustion are just not a healthy mix.”

“That’s okay, it wasn’t a problem! And—oh my,” the demon’s eyes gleamed at your swollen stomach, her gaze soft, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but are you…?”

“Pregnant?” You tilted your head, smiling softly as a hand instinctively reached up to caress, “I am, yes.”

“Awe, I love babies!” Charlie swooned, placing a hand over her heart. “How far along are you?”

“About four months! I just moved here recently, are you from around here?”

“Yep! Just around the corner practically, right up the hill there’s that big hotel? I run it! It’s called the Hazbin Hotel!”

The Hazbin Hotel? Why did that name sound so familiar?

“And, these are all residents at the hotel!” Charlie smiled gleefully, sweeping a hand across the room as she gestured at her band of demons, “Some of them work for me, and some of them are my clients! The pink one is Angel Dust, the snake is Sir. Pentious, the grumpy fella over there is Husker, and the lady over there is Vaggie, my girlfriend!”

Your head spun with the quick introductions, but you only listened thoughtfully as she spoke a few more words about her job.

“That’s very interesting,” you finally said after she finished her sentence, “I’ll have to look it up sometime, I’m sure you're doing a great job. Hopefully, everything has been going well for you so far.”

“I hope the same for you, too,” she smiled, eyes flicking down to your stomach for a moment before her head swiveled to get a look around the room, “…you don’t happen to have a bathroom here, do you?”

“We do! It’s in the back, I can take you there,” you smiled softly, before turning towards the back door and crossing the room. Charlie’s heels clicked against the old, cracking concrete behind you, as the two of you entered the back room. It was filled with boxes and other goods, and Charlie’s gaze bounced across the new scene with interest.

The dimly lit room sent shadows across the two doors on the far end, and your hand slid across the wall close to you to find the switch. The lights flickered on, revealing the matching doors standing side by side, and you turned towards the demon woman.

“It’s right over there,” you gestured toward the doors, backing up slightly as Charlie nodded. She made her way towards the bathroom, hand raising to grasp around the doorknob, before twisting it firmly.

Your breath hitched in realization right as she pulled the door open. That was the wrong door, that was your door! There was no telling how the woman would judge you after seeing the pitiful place you called home.

“Wait! That’s my—!”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed as she took in the makeshift living quarters, illuminated softly by the bulb above her head.

Her gaze flicked to the sunken mattress, lying against the hard cement floor. The small TV stacked on that aging microwave, and the piles of books created a makeshift nightstand, with a little reading lamp and retro alarm clock. The mini fridge hummed softly against another wall, hardly big enough to fit a few day's worth of meals in it.

Charlie’s eyes rested on the stacks of labeled boxes nestled tightly against the wall for maximum space, the only remnants of your old life. Her heart beat rapidly, as she took in the flood of information she was gathering about your situation as she stared silently.

You only watched her expression with weary eyes, rubbing your hands soothingly as you waited for her words. Slowly, Charlie turned towards you, her gaze meeting yours and she read your expression carefully.

“You don’t actually live here, right?” She laughed in disbelief before her smile quickly faded when your face showed no signs of humor.

“This is terrible! Especially with someone in your condition!”

Condition? You weren’t helpless just because you were carrying some extra cargo around for a few more months.

“Don’t worry about me, It’s not that bad it’s just—”

You were cut off by the sound of your stomach growling, so loud it practically reverberated around the room. The pitiful noises were followed by slight pain, a sign of how dreadfully empty your tummy was. The noises of hunger made Charlie’s eyes widen and her brows furrow deeper.

“Are you hungry?” She asked slowly.

“Yes,” you stated bluntly, your tongue subconsciously wetting your parched lips. God, you were so hungry. All. the. time.

It was miserable, having to limit yourself on all the mouth-watering goodies surrounding you. You just wanted to stuff your face, fill up your stomach, and then some.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Charlie questioned, crossing her arms and shooting you a look of concern.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I get my paycheck tomorrow,” you answered quietly, averting the woman’s gaze as you gnawed at your lip. Embarrassment was bubbling in your chest, and tears were threatening to spill against you will.

You’ve never felt this… open with someone before, not in a long while. You were struggling direly, and now Charlie knew it too. And, revealing your financial situation to a customer you’ve just met? Alma would have your head! What were you thinking?

Maybe, it was a subconscious cry for help. For some empathetic, kind soul to come swoop you off your feet into prosperity.

But, you were in Hell, who would do something so selfless like that, for nobody like you?

Charlie bit her lip, breath quickening as her gaze darted from you to the thin mattress on the floor. She seemed antsy, like there were words behind her lips the woman was desperate to spill. Instead, Charlie only gulped them down, before her composure straightened and she sent you an awkward smile.

“Will you excuse me for just a second? I have to uhm, go talk to my girlfriend…” Charlie chuckled nervously, slowly backing away towards the front of the store, “I’ll be right back, don’t move!”

You nodded obediently to the stern finger she waggled at you, before she pivoted and dashed towards the door at the end of the hall. Charlie wrapped a hand around an ash-gray arm, Vaggie jumped at her touch before she was dragged out of sight. The sounds of fast, hushed voices echoed to your spot in the dark.

Straining your ears, you tried to peep in on their conversation. With the way Charlie scrambled out of there, you were nervous about what exactly the two could be discussing around the corner.

“We can’t just leave her here, Vaggie!” Charlie shook her head sternly, crossing her arms as she spoke to her partner.

“Well, we can’t just take her back to the hotel. We don’t know the woman!”

“She’s pregnant with barely any food, and a terrible place to sleep! We can’t just do nothing!” The apple-cheeked woman growled, throwing her hands up as she paced in place near the freezers. The others on the other side of the room were too busy arguing over which flavor of ice cream was better to stop and listen in on the duo’s conversation.

“I know,” Vaggie sighed, her brows creasing in frustration as she rubbed a hand down her face, mind racing, “I just don’t want to do anything that could put a wrench in your dreams, that’s all. We don’t know anything about her, she could bring trouble to our doorstep. There's enough of that as it is..”

“Nothing will happen, I promise,” Charlie replied softly, lacing her fingers with Vaggie, before soothingly brushing a thumb over her partner's knuckles, “We’ll just say she’s on… maternity leave! That way, she can have the baby stress-free, and then find a job either at the hotel or somewhere else. And, if any problems arise, we have Alastor to handle it.”

“Okay,” Vaggie nodded slowly, “If you think this won’t be an issue… then, I trust you, babe.”

“Thank you, Vaggie.” Charlie smiled softly, “I haven’t told her yet. I just wanted to run it by you first, and figure out how to ask a stranger to, well, move in with strangers.”

You backed out of earshot, having gotten enough of the two’s words for your breath to quicken and your thoughts to spiral. Turning, you faced into your room, staring into space as you chewed absently on your lip.

They want to give you a place to stay, for free? No questions asked, just out of the kindness of their hearts?

You shook your head, a dry laugh of disbelief escaping your lips. That was impossible! This was Hell, and things like that never happened. You were born in Hell, and have practically seen it all when it comes to

Murdering, whoring, and overdosing. That was Hell’s usual. Who was this woman, and what could she possibly have in store for you?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the soft clicking of heels reverberate around the dimly lit room. You pivoted sharply, smiling innocently as your gaze met Charlie’s excited expression. She bit her lip nervously, before straightening her posture and clasping her hands together.

“I know we only just met, but I would really love to offer you a place to stay. Something better than this, at least. We have large rooms with their own bathroom and little dining areas. It’ll be free! Plus, lounges, a kitchen, and a bar. Although, I’m sure you won’t be needing that anytime soon.” Charlie chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck and she watched you intently.

“Why would you do something like this for me?” You asked slowly, tilting your head as your fingers thrummed against your bump thoughtfully.

“Because when I see my people struggling, I don’t just stand by and let them. It’s my duty to help those in need.” Charlie placed a fist into her open palm, determination in her gaze and she spoke assertively.

‘My people’? ‘Duty’? What could she possibly mean about that? Such strange words coming from an even stranger woman before you, so desperate to hear your approval.

“I can definitely think about it…” you finally said softly, meeting her gaze after a moment.

“That’s a start! Here, take this, it’s my business card.” The woman patted down her pockets, before pulling out a small card from her pants, thrusting it excitedly towards you.

“I made them myself!” Charlie whispered, her eyes gleaming with pride as you stared down at the little writings across its surface.

“I can call you tomorrow, with my answer,” you replied finally, slipping the card away for later.

“Great! Thank you so much for considering! It’ll be worth it, I promise!”

A shadow loomed across the room, as Angel Dust poked his head into the doorway. He squinted into the darkness, before quirking a brow at Charlie’s figure.

“Ya comin’, toots? I’m hungry, and I deserve some R&R back at the hotel. ASAP.”

“Coming!” Charlie called, beginning to cross the room. She turned to face you, curving her lips into another bright smile as you stood there motionless. You didn’t say another word as she was consumed by the bright lights of the store, and you stayed frozen in place for a few more moments.

Your head spun, Charlie’s words still consuming your thoughts as you chewed at your lip. Just as you were about to head back to the waiting group, you heard grumbling from behind you, and the door to the back alleyway opened wide.

Alma ambled inside, returning from a friend’s business a few stores over. A large bag in her claws as she lumbered towards you,

“I smell customers, are they Sinners? Ugh. Here, take this and put it in the freezer right away. I’ll go up front and get them out of here.”

“Of course,” you replied, hardly listening while still untangling your racing thoughts. The box was changed to your arms, and you took it with a huff before lowering it gently next to the freezer.

You watched Alma enter the front of the store, chattering loudly to the group of demons you had acquainted yourself with as you pried open the box. Slabs of fresh meat were revealed underneath the thin, soaked red parchment shielding them. You wet your lips subconsciously, that ache in your stomach returning as you inhaled the flavorful, wafting scents.

Hopefully, you’d start craving something much more tasteful like ice cream or peanut butter.

Taking time to pack away the stacks of goods only kept your mind busy from Charlie’s offer. You still felt uneasy with her proposal, for all you knew, it could be a trick or some way to wrap you into a deal. There was no way someone like her existed in someplace like Hell.

That doubt still crept up your spine as you stood at the gates of her aging little hotel the next day, nestled on top of a small hill on the outskirts of the bustling city. Charlie’s handmade business card was clenched tightly in your hand, as your eyes read the address one last time before taking a deep, reassuring breath.

The hotel didn’t look too bad, in your opinion. An honest fixer-upper that would look really beautiful if done correctly. The colors were a little odd, not to mention the structure of the building was weird. Jagged even, as different parts jutted out from the center, your eyes traced the outline of what seemed to be… a boat? One that was nestled tightly against the outer walls of the hotel. The building seemed refined, like the owner before the apple-cheeked woman had good taste. Overall, if you did choose to stay here, it wouldn't be too bad of a place.

Except… why did it have to be on top of a hill?! Just the sight of the trek you were going to have to endure made your ankles start to ache, and you groaned, head thrown up in the air as your feet dragged up the cracked concrete path.

‘Did these guys ever think of investing in a ramp?’ you groaned internally, wiping sweat from your brow as you continued the strenuous hike. If this were the kind of difficulties you were going to face throughout your pregnancy, you would have taken more laps around the block in preparation for this moment.

Sputtering for breath, and only halfway up, you rested for a moment with a huff. How many steps have you taken? To keep your shame, you refrained from counting as you continued the climb. Another two months, and this would be impossible, which made you deflate even more.

You hated feeling so… helpless, useless, weak. People looked at you differently, as if you were the child, incapable of being able to support your own weight. Which was another reason you were resistant to the idea of moving here, you didn’t want to feel like a charity case–or a burden–to Charlie and her friends. Hopefully, you’d prove to them today there was more to you than the baby in your womb.

The final step up to the front doors was a hefty one, and you fought the urge to roll over in defeat on their doormat. You shot the cement path the finger, before turning towards the large oak doors. You squinted, trying to get a peek through the stained glass windows as you leaned in slightly.

‘Stop being so creepy and knock,’ you growled at yourself, before lifting a closed fist and rapping it against the sturdy, wood frame of the entryway.

Knock Knock

No response, but you waited patiently with clasped hands and a bright smile ready to go.

Knock Knock

You thought you heard shuffling behind the door, but still no response. You rolled your eyes in irritation, crossing your arms. It was getting hot out here and you needed somewhere to sit down. What kind of a hotel doesn’t greet their gues–

The large door opened slowly with a loud creak, revealing a tall, red demon. He was dressed rather formally, with a nice red tuxedo that hugged his figure perfectly. Large ears sat above his head, small antlers poking from bright red hair that framed his face. His lips were curved into a wide, toothy grin that made the hair at the back of your neck stand on end as you met his ruby-like eyes. They stared intensely into your gaze, as if reading every thought behind those wide eyes, partially shaded by that equally red monocle resting atop his cheek.

What was up with this guy and the color red?

“Can I help you?” He finally asked sweetly, static dripping from his voice, paired with a strange overlay that seemed to pour from his tongue as you watched him speak. It sounded as if he was speaking right through an aging microphone. With the door only partially cracked, you didn’t see much behind that large, charming smile of his.

“Hello, uhm, good sir! I’m looking for Charlie? She and I talked yesterday and–”

“Ohmygoshitsyoucomein!!” The words rolled off Charlie’s tongue just as she popped up right beside the smiling demon. She wrapped her hands around your forearms and pulled you through the threshold with a squeal. A gasp left your lips as you were dragged gleefully inside, and the door shut softly behind you.

For the next few hours, Charlie gave you a tour of the hotel while sharing her visions for the future. Dreams of happy days in Hell, and a second chance for the sinful. Sinners being redeemed and going to Heaven? Was that even possible? You didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter if they could, seeing as you weren’t one of them.

You got better introductions to the residents, including new faces. Alastor, the demon from the front door, who welcomed you with that exotic voice and a humble demeanor that made you feel somewhat at ease. His voice seemed familiar though, reminiscent of horrible, violent rumors of a powerful demon on the prowl. One that scooped up Overlords and sent them to their doom.

Why were people afraid of you being dangerous, when demons like Alastor resided under the same roof? He may have not looked at you with that same hunger he showed his enemies, but he still could send you six feet under in an instant. Which made your unease grow a little more, as you thought about the safety of your child.

Then, there was Niffty, the freaky little cleaning lady who had a constant itch to stab things. When she saw your baby bump, she lit up, rushing towards you with a skip in her step. You froze, watching the tiny woman approach you with a bashful grin.

“Can I touch the baby?” She sent you a puppy-dog stare through one large, glittering eye. Her arms were behind her back as she twirled innocently, a small, toothy smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, I don’t really mind,” you said softly, lowering yourself slightly so she could reach a hand up and place a warm palm on the fabric lying against your abdomen. She giggled softly as she rubbed your stomach tenderly for a few moments, as if she was petting your child directly through her soft touches.

“Do you have a name for it?” Nifty asked, lowering her arm back to her side.

“Not yet, but I’ll figure it out,” you had said, before turning your attention back to Charlie. Finally, the last stop of your little tour was getting a peek at one of the rooms you’d be staying in. Crossing a single hallway, the two of you stood in front of a dark, wooden door. With a twist of the handle, the apple-cheeked woman pushed open the door, and your breath stilled as you leaned through the threshold.

It was a rather large room, fully furnished to replicate a master bedroom. A bed, two dressers, a large wardrobe, even a small dining table with matching chairs on the other side of the room. You stepped into a white-tiled bathroom, taking in the large maroon bathtub and matching colored sinks. Everything looked clean, and honestly, the rooms didn't match the exterior of the hotel. There wasn’t much to complain about, other than some aging upholstery and building cobwebs.

You stepped back into the large bedroom, Charlie following your figure with a hitched breath as you circled the room again, inspecting it closely. You halted, silent for a few moments, before you pivoted to face the demon woman.

“So, this is free? No strings attached?”

“Yep!” Charlie beamed.

“No secret legally binding agreement that I’m about to shake on?”

“Of course not!”

“Well…” you started, brows furrowing in thought as you looked around the room. Charlie stared at you with apprehensive eyes, unable to read your expression as you considered your options, “I’d have to find a place closer to work, or figure out transportation from Alma’s”

“Work?” Charlie inquired.

“How else am I supposed to afford food and other necessities? I can’t just sit around all day waiting to pop!” You raised an eyebrow at the woman,

“The point is you’re supposed to take it nice and easy until you’ve had your baby! Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of food to go around. Plus, I’m sure we can find a place to buy some baby essentials, like diapers and a crib. Whatever you want!” Charlie argued, that smile never faltering as she tried to win you over with charm.

“You’re just going to spend money like that on me?”

“That’s right! Like I’ve said, I’m willing to do anything to support my people.”

“But… how can you afford that? Who are you?”

“I guess I haven’t told you, huh?” Charlie laughed nervously, before rubbing her neck with a sigh, “I’m not a big fan of telling people right off the bat, but my full name is Charlie Morningstar.”

Morningstar? As in the royal family? Charlie was the daughter of the king of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar? Oh dear. This was a joke, right?

You felt your heart beat rapidly, and you placed a hand on your chest to calm its racing pace. The Princess of Hell was standing right in front of you like she was any normal demon, which was crazy. The fact you were standing in front

“Your Majesty!” You lowered your head quickly, averting your gaze respectfully.

“Please don’t!” Charlie shook her head, walking up to you, “I don’t want you to regard me any differently just because I'm royal and all. I just want to help you.”

Slowly, she lifted a hand, lacing her fingers gently with yours as she stared at you with pleading eyes. You could feel the truth in her words practically radiating from her as she waited for your answer, her tone the complete opposite of manipulative, and you bit your lip in thought.

‘Please, live here,’ you read through her glistening gaze.

“Okay,” you finally said softly, a smile slowly creeping onto your lips as you looked up at her.

“Really?” Charlie asked, her eyes lighting up as you nodded in response, and she bounced giddily in place, “This is great! I can’t wait to tell everyone! Oh, I am so happy you said yes. We’ll need a day to prepare, but you probably need a day to pack anyway. Oh! I almost forgot…”

Charlie filled your head with more chatter about what was in store now that you were studying, and you listened intently as the two of you strolled down the hallway back into the lobby. By the time you made it to the front door, your feet were sore from all the walking, and your eyes were tired and droopy as you munched on a sandwich Sir. Pentious had kindly made for you as you left the hotel.

When you passed through the open front doors, you turned back to Charlie, and a few other demons behind her.

“Thank you for being so kind to open up your home to me,” you said softly to the small group, “I’ll be back tomorrow with my things. Have a good day!”

“Bye!”

“See ya, momma!”

“Ssssstay hydrated!”

By the time you walked the block and a half to the dark purple store on the corner, the air had cooled considerably, and the walk wasn’t so bad this time. The fans were silent, hibernating for their next use as you walked across the cracked tile of the shop, your boss fussing with change behind the checkout counter as you approached.

“Leaving?” Alma had asked slowly when you finally dared to inform her of your decision. The demon was mid-count of the register, her long neck lifting so she could meet your gaze with a curious expression.

“Yes, someone offered me a place to stay until I have the baby,” you nodded, rubbing your arm soothingly as you spoke, watching her expression carefully, “I believe it would be in my best interest to take that opportunity. I’m sorry for the short notice, so you can keep my paycheck if you want. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow, probably.”

Alma squinted at you, deep in thought as one claw tapped absentmindedly against the cracked, wooden countertop. The turtle demon grunted, before lowering herself to reach underneath the register, pulling out a long piece of paper and setting it onto the counter.

Dipping a claw in ink, Alma scribbled some numbers onto the paper, before signing her name below. Carefully, she lifted the parchment towards you, quirking a scaly brow at your hesitation. Extending a hand, you took the paper from her hold and turned it over. It was a check, with the remainder of your pay. Eyes widening, your head lifts to meet the old demon’s calm gaze.

“Take care of yourself, then,” Alma croaked, nodding her head slightly at you as she continued to count the cash register. A smile bloomed across your lips, and you quietly turned towards your room, excitement to be out of that cramped little room making you move a little faster as you began to pack your things.

“Alright, everyone. My dad is going to be here in… one hour.” Charlie smiled awkwardly, eye twitching slightly as her disheveled figure addressed the small group of demons inside the lobby of the hotel.

You sat on the couch, munching on a morning snack as she spoke. The small bowl filled with goodies rested atop your swollen belly, now larger since you moved in a while ago. Apart from the sudden dizziness and aching back, some good things came with being pregnant, like your personal little dining table in the shape of a watermelon.

Sometimes, you’d practice balancing different items atop the growing swell. Cups, books, anything that gave you some entertainment now that were limited in physical activities–mostly declared by Charlie, but you didn’t complain too much–and stuck inside most days. To an outsider, what you were doing may have seemed weird or strange. But, seeing as they weren’t the ones lugging around a whole nother being, no one had room to talk about what you did for amusement.

Once, you even let Niffty build Jenga on top of your bump, as you lay comfortably out on the sofa in the lobby. The little structure tipped slightly on the unlevel surface, and you did your best to control your breathing to keep it from toppling over as she gingerly placed each rectangular block. Angel Dust had walked into the lobby, adorned in revealing clothes and cat-eye sunglasses. His features were exhausted and drained as he halted in his tracks at the sight.

“What are you two doin’?” He slowly asked, lifting the shades from his face as he watched with a perplexed expression.

“Angel~,” you called, lifting your head with a smile to meet his gaze, “Fancy playing a little bit of risky Jenga? We were just about to start.”

The spider demon seemed to want to reject the offer, before his eyes flitted across the empty room–save for the familiar bartender cleaning glasses–to the clock. It was about eight o'clock at night, a Friday, and the pornstar was trying to find any possible reason to stay inside tonight. For once, Angel Dust was party-pooped.

“Huska’, pour me a tall one, won’tcha? I gotta get in my zone,” He had called towards the bar, his golden tooth glinting as he shot you a sly, toothy grin.

The next rounds encompassed you trying desperately not to laugh at the sensations of the game. After each block was expelled, it tumbled down your tummy and tickled at your skin. You clasped a hand over your mouth, holding in your laugh as your stomach twitched, and the small structure began to teeter.

“Hey! Watch it, mama,” Angel laughed, grimacing slightly as the Jenga tower jiggled again, “I’m about to win!”

Niffty giggled beside him as you kept your mouth covered, unable to say a word with the fear that your laughter would bubble up past your lips given the chance. You stilled yourself and regained composure, the blocks settled back into place.

“What if…” Niffty said, a mischievous grin on her face as she lifted a claw towards you. Your eyes followed her finger right as it reached your abdomen, and you tensed, trying to prepare for the inevitable.

“Niff!” Angel gasped with a glare, right as the small white finger poked you in the side. Even with her claw, the touch was like a feather against your skin and you had no control as you reacted to the ticklish feeling.

“Nif—HA!” You had blurted with a snort, your body pitching forward slightly at the sensation. Your lips quivered into a clasped smile just as the blocks tumbled over, losing their balance on top of your bump. They slid across the floor, and you sat up quickly.

“That’s it, missy!” Angel Dust rose to his full height, pointing an accusatory finger at Niffty’s innocent expression, “You sabotaged me on purpose! You did this at UNO last night, and I won’t have it no longer!”

Pivoting abruptly on his heels, Angel adjusted his tight outfit and pulled back his hair, before he turned his head towards the two of you.

“Goodnight, ladies! This star needs his beauty sleep!” He waved as he strutted away, leaving Niffty to clean up the mess and you to return Angel’s empty drink to the bar.

That day had tested your limits on how useful the bun in your oven was as a food rest, and you stuck to small items after that. Such as the bowl in front of you that you were tiredly nibbling on as you watched Charlie pace in place, anxiety obvious on her features as she muttered to herself.

The others around you tensed, before they dashed off in different directions, breathing heavily as if whatever was to be done was extremely important. You turned your head, watching them flee in confusion.

Then, Charlie’s words finally computed in your head, the morning brain fog waning as you slowly sat up. Blinking, you rubbed a hand down your face, rubbing the sleepiness from your features as you processed the information.

Charlie’s father, Lucifer Morningstar, was coming to the hotel? In one hour?

The king of Hell, the most powerful man in the realm. Whose face had long since disappeared from the public eye, when before it adorned every magazine and cover photo that one could buy.

What was he to think of you, a nobody with a boring story and a baby on the way?

You felt a slight nudge inside your stomach, your child softly prodding your side, maybe in an attempt to get you moving as you shot up from the couch.

“Your dad is coming here right now?” You asked approaching Charlie, and she stopped in her tracks to face you.

“Yes,” she nodded, biting her lip, “I haven’t seen him in years, and his opinion of the hotel isn’t the most optimistic.”

It seemed like it was difficult for Charlie to speak about her father, as if her—as husk had put it—‘daddy issues’ made the topic of her familial relationships sour on her tongue.

“He’s just going to come and visit? That doesn’t seem too bad, I’m sure the place will grow on him after a quick tour.”

“He’s my only ticket to Heaven,” Charlie sighed, using a hand to rake her unkempt hair back, “Everything has to be perfect. We just need to clean a little, put some balloons up,

“What does your dad like to eat?” You said after a few moments.

“What?” Charlie stared at you with perplexity, tilting her head slightly with a quirked brow.

“Well, as you know I’ve been practicing in the kitchen a lot, learning to bake and all that, and I believe it would be a nice idea if we made something your dad enjoys. That way, he feels welcome and less apprehensive.”

That was true, you had started working in the kitchen daily ever since you moved to the hotel. With Charlie being so kind and offering for you to live there for free until your baby was born, and the fact your large bump made it difficult to do many physical activities, you decided to stick to something more hands-on and less strenuous.

Surprisingly, it was actually quite fun. Most days, you’d flip through pages of recipes from a cookbook Alastor had loaned to you, looking for that one treat that made your mouth water and the little bean inside of you flip around in excitement. The kitchen inside the hotel was actually quite large, with multiple fridges and ovens with wide counters that wrapped around the room.

You’d gather all the different ingredients, following the directions closely as you worked. Sometimes, your feet would be so sore you’d pull up a chair and listen to some music while you quietly cut cookies into various cute little shapes, before decorating them and handing them out to all the residents inside the large building.

Except Alastor, who claimed to hate anything sweet when you stood before him in the lobby one afternoon.

“Thank you for the kind gift, my dear, but I seem to have been born without that fabled sweet tooth. Chocolates are not my cup of tea.” The charming demon had told you, politely waving off your outreached hand as you held a small brownie with a frown.

“So… what do you like?” Your arm lowered, and you stared at the brownie for a moment. The thought of putting it in your mouth instead was very tempting.

“Have you ever tried Jambalaya?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head.

“Hm. Well, perhaps you can add that to your list of recipes to try? With all that work you’ve been putting into cooking, I'm sure it’ll be no difficulty for you to concoct.” Alastor had tilted his head thoughtfully at you, hand resting leisurely against his cane as he leaned against the bar’s counter.

You had sent him a warm smile, slightly surprised by his good words. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to give others praise over himself unless it benefited him.

Conquering the kitchen was a little more difficult than you previously imagined, and the two charred ovens on the other side of the room were a testament to that.

At first, the confidence in your work was pretty poor. Whenever Niffty or Charlie would ask what you were making, you’d simply smile bashfully and quietly state you were making treats. One time, you let Sir. Pentious take a bite out of your chocolate cheesecake, which ended in the snake demon lying splayed out on the floor from a sugar crash after he devoured the entire pan of it.

Needless to say, after most of your new friends begged for more delicacies from your hand, you let your ego swell a bit at all the praise. Now, the Egg Bois were deemed your official taste testers and would huddle around your area as you let them lick the extra dough from your used bowl.

“More!” They’d cry happily, indicating another successful batch of sugar cookies.

Now, you hoped your skills had improved enough to sweep the king of Hell off his feet.

“What does my dad like…” Charlie said after a moment, pulling you back to reality as she squinted her gaze, rubbing her chin in thought.

You stood there silently, waiting for a response. For some reason, Charlie was having trouble recalling anything of value at first, muttering this and that. Does she really not know what kind of things her own father liked? How long has it been exactly since they had a proper conversation?

“Apples!” Charlie finally proclaimed, nodding at herself in approval, “My dad loves apples, can’t get enough of them, it’s even on the royal seal.”

Apples, the only earthly fruit to find itself all the way down in the pits of Hell. Even the harmless produce got the heavenly treatment by the big guys upstairs, and would never be allowed through the pearly gates since The Fall.

Being born in Hell, you never got to experience life like humanity above, but at least the one good thing was that Heaven didn’t get to enjoy the savory goodness that was the red fruit.

They seemed to be a cultural treat back on the living plane and came in all kinds of varieties. Pie, cake, chips, juice, alcohol, syrup, cereal? Humans couldn’t get enough of the fruit! Was there even a combination left to create with the crisp, tarty goodness?

Wait… that’s it!

“Apple tarts!” You blurted excitedly, clapping your hands.

“What?” Charlie asked as you moved forward, taking her hand in glee.

“I’ll make him some apple tarts! I’m sure that’ll improve his mood and be more agreeable to you! I’ve got to get to the kitchen though, see you in an hour!” You spoke quickly as you hurried off, Charlie trailing your figure with wide eyes.

As you slid into the kitchen, your hand immediately dug for your phone, as you quickly pulled up any five-star recipe for the tarted treat. Then, there was frantic mumbling coming from your left, and you lifted your head to see a large figure rummaging through a fridge. The demon’s tail lashed nervously behind him as he stuffed more ingredients into his arms.

“Sir. Pentious?”

The figure pulled his head out of the fridge in surprise, hitting his head on the way out with a grunt before pivoting to face you.

“Itssss you!” He breathed out in relief, holding a clawed hand to his chest as he regained composure.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why, I am baking cookies for His Majessssty!” He held out the small pile of items towards you, before slithering to a corner of the kitchen on the opposite side of you, “What about you?”

“Apple tarts! I guess we’ll see who’s he prefers, huh?” You called playfully as you bent down with a grunt to collect utensils and mixing bowls hastily.

“Ah, yesssss. Nothing like a friendly competition in the heat of the kitchen.” Sir. Pentious chuckled nervously, as he continued to pull ingredients from the cabinets, just as you were doing the same.

You grimaced at the cooking time of the apple tarts, it was going to be very close, but you were set on this delicious goodness and a little apprehension wasn’t going to stop you yet.

As you worked, you heard the remnants of your friends preparing outside of the kitchen, somewhere in the lobby. Heavy footsteps reverberated across the tile as they hurried about, and the sounds of plastic stretching, like balloons being blown up and the soft screeching of tables being moved around followed soon after.

You did your best to ignore the background chatter, as you sat upon your cushioned stool, a knife in your hand as you began to thinly slice a few apples in front of you. The recipe was simple, some apple slices atop the pie crust smothered in honey, cinnamon, and sugar. You weren’t sure what kind of apples they–you assumed it was Alastor who did the shopping–had stored, but hopefully Lucifer would enjoy it nonetheless.

Thankfully, you already had a few pans of pie crust premade for another recipe, and began to slather the sugary syrup onto the crust, your mouth watering as you arranged the apple crisps on top. Sir. Pentious fussed with an appliance across the room from you, hopefully, the poor guy hadn’t forgotten to preheat the oven while he was prepping.

After throwing the tarts into the oven you set the timer, watching the apples begin to sizzle and shrink slightly against the pounding heat. Taking a large swig of water, you grabbed a small spoon from the counter before sweeping it against the side of a used mixing bowl and turning towards your friend cleaning the dishes.

“Sir. Pentious!” You called, holding out a small spoon towards him. That honeyed goodness oozed slightly from the edge as you presented the snake demon with some of your cooking. He slithered forward, his eyes wide with interest as he stared at the mixture on the spoon, before gingerly taking it from your grip and inspecting it.

The demon didn't hesitate to part his lips and swipe his tongue across the sugary batter, before letting it swirl on his taste buds for a few moments. Slowly, his eyes lit up, and his lips curled into a large, fanged grin.

“Mmm! It iss deliciousness!” Sir. Pentious melted in front of you, before placing the entire end of the spoon in his mouth and sucking on it like a lollipop. The snake turned, before plucking out a chunk of dough at the bottom of his used mixing bowl.

“Ssssalmonella free!” He smiled, the doughy ball held out between two long claws extended towards you. Right, he probably doesn’t use eggs in his cooking. Especially so close to the Egg Bois, who worked near the sink to quickly wash the dirty utensils spread about Sir. Pentious’ station. You even noticed one or two running over to your work area, and grabbing used dishes to clean. You would have to thank them for that later.

Reaching out, you gingerly took the cookie dough before placing it between your lips and chewing softly. The flavors hit your tongue, and you perked at the intense, sugary taste of the dessert. Sir. Pentious had taken the classic route and baked some very delicious sugar cookies, and you licked your lips of any remaining dough.

“Very good! Save one for me after the party, hm?”

“I sssuppose we are an even match, then!” Sir. Pentious declared, sending you a large smile before turning away to watch over his Egg Bois.

You turned away, your eyes darting up to the clock as it ticked closer and closer to the new hour. Soon, Lucifer Morningstar would be here, and hopefully, your apple tarts would please the most powerful man in Hell. Was he as handsome as the magazines made him out to be? Your eyes had always traveled to his porcelain figure in the supermarkets, that sultry, playful gaze he shot the camera that practically beckoned you with a hot, invisible finger.

The ethereal radiance he exuded even trapped inside that paper cover already made your cheeks warm and your skin tingle, you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel when he was standing right in front of you. Especially when it came to your recent increase in… passionate perspectives.

You shook yourself, attempting to rid your mind of such thoughts as you groaned into your hands. You sat on your stool, waiting quietly in the dimly lit kitchen for your treats to finish. The lobby had quieted down since you had begun, now more casual discussion along with rustlings of party decor being adjusted and preps of introductions. You paid the others' conversations no mind, deep in thought as you brushed a thumb across your stomach softly.

The timer suddenly rang loudly in your hands, and you jumped from your seat slightly at the noise in your palm. The small, white clock vibrated in your grip, and you rushed to reset the mechanism to end its cry. You looked up at the clock hanging on the wall once more, how long had you just been sitting there thinking about gorgeous men? Lucifer could show up any minute!

Settling the timer gently atop the marble counter, you slid off the seat and reached for the oven mitts next to the sink. Striding to the oven, you pulled its door open, the rush of hot air hitting your cheeks.

‘Imagine being late to greet the king of Hell,’ you growled to yourself as your eyes snapped to the clock on the wall, the new hour finally arriving, ‘A great first impression, good going.’

The yummy goodness in your grasp sizzled as you pulled the pan from the oven, breathing in the delicious scents deeply before placing the metal dish on the top of the stove. Steam billowed off the golden-brown apple slices, the cinnamon mixture oozing slightly underneath the thin crisps of fruit.

Hurriedly, you cut into the tart, slicing the pie-like treat into smaller slices before placing them gently onto a separate tray. By the time you threw the remaining dirty dishes in the sink and made your way to the door of the kitchen, you heard those familiar rasps against the hotel’s front door.

Knock Knock

You halted in your tracks right when Charlie swung open the front door to reveal a handsome, pearlescent figure bursting in to wrap his arms around his daughter. Those platinum blonde locks bounced softly underneath his tall brim hat, as he settled beside his daughter as they chatted. You were unprepared for those soft, yellow eyes that swept across the room with a playful glint in their gaze, or the confident, charming smirk that seemed so natural on the fallen angel’s features.

That air of superiority radiated from Lucifer’s figure, with every demon in the room aware of the raw power he possessed. Those tantalizing stories of a ruthless and blood-thirsty ruler of Hell who crushed anyone who so much as sent him a heated glance refreshed in everyone’s memories as they smiled widely. The fallen angel hadn’t stayed in such a sought-after position since Hell’s creation for no reason, as only Heaven could match his strength.

Lucifer made no show of the deadly undertones in his proximity, however, as he strolled farther into the lobby with a relaxed grin as Charlie introduced him to Angel and Sir. Pentious. The king’s looks were only improving every step he took closer towards your spot hiding behind the kitchen door, your breath hitching as you traced his figure from the cracked doorway. The tarts weren’t the only thing in the room making your mouth water anymore.

Should you just stay in here until he goes away? Mail the tarts to him, instead? Surely, meeting you wasn’t that important, and there was always a next time to introduce yourself. Inhaling a sharp breath, you shook your head to ease your nerves and expel those anxious thoughts. You were no coward, and even the prettiest face in Hell wouldn’t stop you from handing Lucifer the bakery sweets.

“I guess that’s why they called it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” You heard Lucifer laugh from across the room, and you poked your head out from the doorway.

Eavesdropping into the conversation for a few more moments, you gripped the small tray in your hands tightly as you waited for the perfect time to make your sneaky entrance. Right when his eyes left the place near Husk you were planning on scooching into, you took your chance and hurried across the lobby.

Everyone’s eyes were on Lucifer and Alastor bickering, and it didn’t seem like anyone noticed as you slipped next to the shorter feline. That was until you felt the side of your stomach connect with the table's edge, and it slid slightly with a sickening screech. You clamped your mouth shut to stop a frustrated curse from leaving your lips as you tensed.

Curious gazes locked onto your figure, and the tray in your hands slowly lowered onto the table as you felt sweat bead down your forehead from the unwanted attention. The plan was to be as low-key as possible when you joined the group, not be thrust into the spotlight!

Lucifer turned, his gaze landing on your stomach before anything else, and your breath hitched as his eyes lit up with an unreadable gleam. The king traveled up your figure, before resting on your face, and his eyes seemed to widen even more as he stared for a moment.

Gosh, how embarrassing. If he decided to burst out laughing at your clumsiness or make a public spectacle of your interruption, maybe it’s something you deserve—

“Woah!” Lucifer suddenly perked, before leaning backward, squinting his eyes as if he just got hit by a harsh ray of angelic light, “Someone tell Heaven they dropped one of their halos down here….”

A pair of sunglasses materialized between his fingers as the fallen angel shimmied past Charlie, and you watched with wide eyes as he practically leaped over the table to reach your figure at the other end.

“Because you are glowing, mama!” The king slid right up next to you, lifting the shades from his face as he waggled his eyebrows with a devilish smirk. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully at his antics. Lucifer Morningstar was right next to you, and even so, up close you couldn’t find a single imperfection on his features.

The demons around you blurred as you and Lucifer locked eyes for a few moments longer, the expressions flicking through your gazes enough to cover the silence. Lucifer’s smirk turned into a soft smile as his eyes flicked to your stomach then back to you with an adoring glimmer, his features gentle as he lifted a hand out towards you.

“Please,” you laughed softly, tilting your head away to try and hide the heat that was practically pouring off your face as you slid your fingers into his palm, “That’s just a fairytale, I’d say the truth of my appearance is the opposite right about now.”

The warmth radiating off of Lucifer’s porcelain skin made you want to melt like butter. You felt the ache in your joints subside softly, along with the feeling of bliss from his touch that made goosebumps ripple across your skin.

“No, seriously,” Lucifer’s grin widened, patting your hand softly, “Even I am envious of your glow, sweetheart. You look great.”

You resisted the urge to scream into your hands like some kind of lovesick teenager at his words. Geez, you barely said a few sentences to this guy and he’s already trying to rizz you up. And it was working!

“Thank you,” your voice cracked softly, and Lucifer gripped your hand tighter as he lowered himself slightly in a bow.

“Lucifer Morningstar!” He smiled as he met your graze once more, tipping his hat slightly as he spoke, “I’m sure you already know who I am, though, as do most who see my face. The question is, who are you?”

That soothing warmth on your skin disappeared as Lucifer slowly released your hand and took a step back. You lowered your arm back to your side, silently pining for his soft touch against the fallen angel.

“Oh, enough about me!” You wave off his question with a large grin, attempting to change the conversation, “You’re the special man we’re all gathered here for today!”

Averting your gaze, you reach down towards a slice of apple tart on the tray nearby. The dessert is still slightly hot, and the heat that greets your skin followed by an itch of pain helps keep your focus in front of such a tasty snack. You were not talking about the tart.

Lucifer looks at it for a few moments, steam still slightly wafting from the golden-brown crisps of apples as you hold it towards him. The scents of cinnamon and honey hit the fallen angel’s nostrils, and he licked his lips subconsciously, eyes still locked onto your hand.

“What is this?” He quirked a brow, gaze flicking to the warm smile on your lips then back to the dessert.

“An apple tart,” you reply, your arm stretching farther towards him, “I heard a rumor that our ruler fancied red fruits, so I thought I’d welcome him with a snack.”

Slowly, Lucifer lifted a hand and took the tart from your grasp. He turned it in his hands for a moment, before lifting it to his lips and taking a deep breath. The fallen angel sent you one last unreadable look before he placed the tart into his mouth.

You licked at the crumbs on your fingers, savoring the little bit of flavor you received. Indulging yourself in food in front of the guy you were currently ogling over wasn’t on the top of your to-do list. You’d stick to satisfying your cravings in the privacy of your room.

Lucifer chewed for a few moments, before he squinted in thought. He swallowed slowly, and then his eyes lit up with a surprised, but joyful, gleam. A smile bloomed across his lips as he reached over next to you to grab another of the pie-like treats.

“Okay, wow. I’m impressed. I might hire you as my personal baker from now on,” another tart was consumed by the king, as he licked hungrily at the cinnamon mixture that was dribbling down his chin.

He seemed to be really enjoying them, which made you giddy inside. One, because Lucifer was enjoying your food, and two, because that would mean he was in a good enough mood for Charlie to convince him to get an audience with Heaven.

“Dad,” Charlie finally broke the conversation between the two of you, before settling at your side. She put a gentle hand on your shoulder as she continued to speak, “This lovely lady was having a rough time with her living situation, so I offered her a place to stay while she was still expecting. She’s been a great addition to our little Hazbin family. Now, she’s taking it easy until the baby comes.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lucifer nodded in agreement through the apple tart he was stuffing his face with.

“I’m not completely useless,” you quickly interjected, clasping your hands together, “I help out around the hotel in any way I can, or however Alastor can use my assistance.”

“Right…” Lucifer shot Alastor, who was watching the three of you with interest a few feet away, a sharp glare as he spoke, “Your… manager over there isn’t pushing you too hard, is he?”

What was that? It sounded like Lucifer had held in a growl when he asked that, you could feel the reverberations from his throat underneath his tone.

“Alastor has been nothing but kind to me, everyone here has. His Majesty is too kind to care for me like this. Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything that could affect me or the baby.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Lucifer said, as picked up the last tart from the tray.

The king’s gaze rested on you as you looked at the tart longingly, your stomach growling softly as you imagined the treat between your teeth. You had eaten breakfast, had a snack before Lucifer’s arrival, and had some cookie dough from Sir. Pentious, yet you were still hungry? Where was your self-respect in front of the most important figure in the realm?

Lucifer must have noticed your hungry gaze, as he split the tart apart and handed a small piece towards you. You stared at it for a moment, before shaking your head and gesturing silently for him to eat it while you heard Charlie conversing quickly with Vaggie nearby.

The king didn’t let you refuse, when he squinted his eyes at you with a stern look and pushed the tart closer to your face, to where it was almost grazing your lips.

With a sigh, you send him a warm smile in thanks and reach for the tart. It crumbled slightly in your hand and you quickly shoved the whole thing into your mouth, lifting a hand to shield your immodesty as you chewed softly.

Fuck, that tasted so good. Your time in the kitchen has improved your skill as you happily continued chewing down the dessert, a content smile on your lips as you stood next to Lucifer.

“Just make sure not to let that creep over there make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Lucifer held a hand up to hide his mouth from the onlookers, shielding the quiet words that left his lips, “If you ever need me to smite him…”

“Dad!” Charlie gasped, shooting her father a stern glare.

“A joke, a joke,” Lucifer chuckled, elbowing his daughter softly in the side before turning away from you.

It was then that the chandelier above everyone’s heads swayed dangerously, the rusting bolts loosening slowly from their hold against the thick plaster. You heard a soft creaking sound before your head shot up just as the bolts dislodged from their place and the large light fixture came crashing down.

It landed a few feet away from you, as glass shattered and splayed across the floor. You jumped in surprise, your hand automatically coming up to shield your stomach and Lucifer’s head snapped towards you in concern. You hadn’t been hurt, but his eyes still traced your figure for any injuries before he gave the chandelier a stink eye.

“Alright then,” Lucifer chuckled, and you watched with wide eyes as he slid from your side the floor beneath your feet shifted as he began to… sing? You backed away to the edge of the wall just as the fallen angel began to address his daughter, showcasing his magical talent as different objects poofed in and out of existence.

You had watched with wide, awe-struck eyes during the sudden musical number, your thoughts still on Lucifer's warm, gentle touch and his praise only moments before. Why was he so kind and out of the gate, was it because of your pregnancy?

Did the king of Hell have a soft spot for babies, or did he take pity on your exhausted, worn figure? Even baking was becoming a chore, and standing on your feet for so long was beginning to wear down on you. Thankfully, the attention was finally off you now that Lucifer and Alastor were practically at each other's throats again.

Did it matter what Lucifer thought of you? His attention alone made your thighs ache, and staring into those pretty eyes for too long made your lips dry and cracked and needed someone to wet them with their own.

Jesus, get it together! You just met the man, stop being such a weirdo!

When you finally were pulled back into reality, blinking away the stars of hot emotions that were dancing on the edge of your vision, the music had ended and a strange, short woman had burst through the front doors of the hotel.

Mimzy, that was her name, and apparently a friend of Alastor’s back from their living days on Earth. You didn’t know Alastor had friends outside of the hotel, let alone friendly enough to embrace the woman. Even with all those nasty rumors about the red demon, Mimzy only looked at him with a playful glimmer in her eyes as she turned to get a look at the rest of the group.

When she approached you with giddy steps and batted eyelashes as she grinned at your figure relaxing on the bar stool across the room.

"Aw, suga, that baby bump of yours is just precious! I’ve neva’ seen one so adorable before! Who’s the lucky man?” Her eyes quickly scanned across the room, as if your baby daddy was hiding somewhere among the few pieces of furniture inside the large room.

“Not here,” you replied with a sigh, “Never will be, unfortunately. He and I had some… disagreements a while ago. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Lucifer watched you carefully, drinking in your words with an unreadable expression from a distance before Charlie dragged him away to continue the tour around the hotel.

"Aw, darlin', that's a tough break. But forget that fella! You're better off without him, sweetheart. Plenty of strong mamas out there held their own just fine. Down here in Hell, it's rough, but you don't need no man to look after you! Keep on keepin' on, hun."

You averted Mimzy’s gaze at her words with a bashful smile. Doubt had always itched at the back of your scalp, doubts of whether you were doing everything right and when you had the baby if you could be okay on your own. Now, you felt a surge of renewed confidence in how good of a mother you could be. The strange woman was right of course, you didn’t need a man to have a stable life.

But, you still yearned for someone to caress you softly late at night, or whisper sweet words of adoration and care when you desperately needed it most. A man to kiss and cherish for the rest of your life, and someone who would love your baby as their own.

Mimzy was loud and obnoxious as you sat next to her at the bar, but you assumed that’s what she did for a living, drawing people in with her charm to stay for drinks and watch her dance. Her job was to wow the crowd enough for them to give her and her flapping sisters big tips and lots of company.

She wasn’t too bad of a story-teller either, and as you and a few others listened to her story of Alastor’s interactions with previous overlords, you caught the way Husk growled when he spoke to her and how he’d shoot her icy glares whenever nearby. As if she was a rattlesnake ready to bring trouble, and only he could hear the warnings from her tail.

You understood the suspicion the feline bartender was holding towards Mimzy when a large hole suddenly blew through the wall opposite from the bar, and harsh, angry voices snarled the flapper’s name.

Adrenaline shot through your veins as you jumped from the bar stool, your first thought instantly going towards your baby. That maternal, animalistic urge to protect your child’s wellbeing at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing some of your own.

As your friends rushed around the room in a panic, and Alastor met the murderous loan sharks head-on outside, you locked eyes with Mimzy cowering underneath one of the bar stools.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to get them off my back!” She grimaced as another explosion rocked the lobby, and you stumbled backward as debris from the ceiling fell across your shoulders.

Your head snapped across the room, and you saw Alastor’s large demonic figure taking the brunt of the loan shark’s attacks. Tentacles whipped around him as they smashed a few snarling demons into a pulp against the ground. The thug’s aims weren’t very accurate, and some grenades bounced right past the giant demon’s figure and straight toward the hotel.

Luckily, nothing had reached the inside of the building yet, but you weren’t going to take any chance as you turned on your heel towards the closed door of the kitchen. It was on the farthest side of the lobby and provided a large catalog of items you could use for self-defense.

If the time came when you had to cheese-grater a man across the face or make a kabob out of his eye, you had the tools to do so.

As you moved, you turned your head to scan for the others still in the room. Sir. Pentious was slithering to cover behind a couch, Niffty tight in his hold as she lowered his head out of sight. Husk was somewhere behind the bar no doubt, and Angel Dust was poking his head out behind the large gap in the wall, cheering on Alastor’s bloodlust.

Lucifer, Charlie, and Vaggie were still unaccounted for, most likely somewhere on the opposite side of the hotel by now. There wasn’t a doubt that the three of them heard all the chaos, but would they get here fast enough to lend a hand? Alastor was powerful, but he couldn’t be in two places at once if one or two thugs decided to take the fight inside.

Right now seemed to be a really nice time to put that pure angelic power to good use!

Your ears rang loudly, heart pounding, right as you reached the kitchen door. You wrapped your fingers around the handle and pulled on it harshly. Except, the door didn’t budge. Again, you pulled on the handle, grunting with effort right as the floor shook beneath you. Your side harshly hit the door as you stumbled forward, before inhaling a sharp breath.

You were stuck, the door behind you locked tight.

Had the door locked from the inside when you had left earlier? You didn’t remember closing it, but perhaps the musical shenanigans from before blew a strong enough gust of wind to shut it tight.

Your eyes darted across the room, looking for any other place to run that could give you even an ounce of protection. Unfortunately, you weren’t flexible nor small enough to actually fit inside or behind anything for cover at the moment, which limited your options.

A loan shark cried out for help right outside the gap in the wall, a tentacle wrapped around his meaty legs as he harshly yanked him backward. The demon’s high-pitched scream faded as he was flung over the black gates and off into the distance.

Your gaze lowered, catching sight of a grenade from one of the few remaining thugs bouncing right off Alastor’s back, and colliding with a large boom against the hotel’s roof. The ceiling shook, pieces of plaster falling from the sky as you ducked to try to avoid them. Angel Dust dove behind the bar, beckoning you from across the room to join him and Husk as they lay low against the tile.

Did they think you could actually run across the room before another explosion hit the hotel?

You didn’t have a chance to join them anyway, as a large support beam above your head shook violently, before the wall crumbled around the long, wooden post and it began to dislodge from its fasteners.

Before one could blink, the beam began to fall from its place against the ceiling, its trajectory aimed right on top of you. Angel gasped and placed a pair of hands on his face, shielding his eyes from your doom. Husk only stared in horror, mouth agape as the large object descended upon you.

Backing against the kitchen door, you shielded your head and curled your legs against your stomach.

‘This is it, I'm a goner,’ you thought as you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, waiting for the blow.

Except, it never came. Nothing happened, actually. The deafening sounds of chaos and war around you faded slightly, as if you placed a pair of headphones over your head. You didn’t feel the sting of pain, or the sound of the large beam crashing to the floor.

You were still alive, that was for sure with how hard your heart pounded against your chest.

Slowly, you lifted your head and cracked an eye open, a golden light blinding you for a moment as your pupils adjusted to the ethereal glow. A dome of energy crackled around you, casting a mesmerizing golden hue across your figure. The thick walls of energy around you aren’t completely opaque, and you can see the lobby in shambles, but your little area under the bowl is completely intact.

Taking a deep breath, you relax slightly and slowly stand from the door, the sounds of chaos still audible as you hear another explosion and screaming thugs.

“Look, Charlie,” Lucifer’s chastising voice rose above the chaos, his head turning from you to his daughter as another support beam crashed beside them, “What did I tell you? This is what happens when you invite people in and be kind to them… nothing but trouble! You should still stick to helping people that actually need it.”

Your head turned, watching Lucifer lean lazily against his cane as Charlie scrambled around the room trying to help the others. His back was turned to you, but seeing you were sealed in a practically indestructible barrier while he continued to yap, your safety was guaranteed now.

Finally, Alastor swallowed up the last of the thugs, the large demon licked his blood-stained chops before slowly shrinking back into his original form. Dust still swirled around the lobby, but the explosions had ceased, and anything that was in danger of falling had already done so.

The dome of energy surrounding you flickered out of existence, any trace of its magical essence vanishing as you took a tentative step forward. The intensity of the light made your head ache, and you rubbed your temple with a groan.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asked softly, coming up to stand beside you, his fingers wrapped around your arm tight as you steadied yourself.

“Yes, just a little dizzy, I’m fine now,” you turned to stare at the fallen angel with an assuring smile, right as his eyes scanned across your face, only for his brows to furrow at the sight.

“Wait, you’re bleeding,” Lucifer tensed, before his cane dropped beside him and his fingers slid down to your wrist, and he turned your hand over palm-up. On your index finger was a small cut, which oozed with a thin trail of black blood, before dripping onto the carpet below.

Lucifer dug into a pocket inside his white overcoat, before pulling out a hand-embroidered handkerchief. He reached up to your forehead, gently brushing the fabric against your skin to clean it.

You must have smeared some blood on your face when you had previously rubbed it, that’s why he was so worried. There was no pain from the wound, and you had no idea where it had even come from.

“It’s just a scratch,” you assured, not pulling away from Lucifer’s hold on your hand as he dabbed softly at your forehead.

That warmth bloomed from his touch again, sending a shiver up your spine and your eyes to droop placidly. It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t exhausted from everything that had happened today, and that energy he exuded only feeding the urge to cozy up on the sofa a few feet away.

“Better safe than sorry” he retorted, worry dripping from his voice as he tore off a clean piece of his handkerchief, wrapping it around your finger before tying it taut against your skin. His fingers still lingered against your palm, as the two of you stood there around the demons trying to pick up the place a little.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that put that barrier around me, hm?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Well, I didn’t expect to walk into the room with you about to be impaled by a giant wooden stake. It was pretty crazy for a moment there… is the baby okay?”

The fact he was also worried about your child made you gush silently, swooning harder for the fallen angel than before.

“Fine,” you nodded, reaching a free hand to gently caress your bump, “I felt them moving a bit when you came over.”

The baby had been quite active recently. Doing backflips, karate kicks, and whatever else there was for entertainment inside your womb. Earlier, when you were baking, you took a painful jab to the side by the little one, and that wasn’t the first time today.

It was then that you felt it, a kick against your inner walls, causing you to jerk slightly from the surprise of it. Lucifer jumped from your reaction, and you sent him a large grin with wide eyes as you curled your fingers around his hand.

“They’re moving right now, even!” You perked, gently tugging his arm towards you with giddiness. Nobody has ever felt your baby kick before, a privilege usually reserved for parents or the child’s father. You had neither of those now, so if it meant showing a stranger the same feelings of softness you experienced? So be it.

Lucifer tensed, frozen in silence from your bold actions as you placed his hand against the fabric of your outfit. You still for a few seconds, the fallen angel’s warmth on your stomach welcoming as you waited for the baby to move again.

Luckily, they did, right against the king’s hand against your bump. He hitched a breath as soon as he felt the sensation of your little one’s movements, his eyes widening with fondness.

You smiled widely, your bump growing ticklish at the feeling of your child’s restlessness. Then, you felt something odd going on against your abdomen, and you lowered your head with wide eyes as the tip of Lucifer’s finger began to glow. A soft, golden light that sizzled at your fabric, before it seemed to seep underneath and into your skin.

It felt like someone was pouring caffeine directly into your bloodstream, the exhaustion dissipating from your mind in an instant and your heartbeat quickening. The painful throbbing in your ankles subsided, and you felt renewed energy even deep in your bones.

The light seemed to grow across your bump, and the strange magic that was flooding your senses suddenly had your mind racing. Could it be hurting your child?

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, taking a nervous step backward away from his touch.

“What..? Oh!” Lucifer’s hand retracted to his side in an instant, his lips curving into an apologetic smile as he averted his gaze. He seemed nervous all of a sudden, eyes darting across the room before they landed on Charlie brushing dust off of Vaggie’s hair across the room.

“My apologies, have a wonderful rest of your night,” The king of Hell tipped his hat to you, refusing to meet your gaze as he backpedaled and pivoted sharply away from you, and began strolling towards his daughter who turned to him with a frown.

Your stomach twisted at his sudden exit, regret bubbling in you. Did your question come off as too confrontational? Lucifer didn’t exactly ask for your permission to do… whatever he did, so it wasn’t wrong to react the way you had.

Watching Lucifer leave for a few moments, you sighed softly, hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Looking around the room, you searched for something to busy yourself with as your mind continued to race.

That was the last time you had spoken to Lucifer for the rest of the night, his sudden departure after reconciling with Charlie leaving you to stew silently with your thoughts.

Would you meet the king again? You desperately hoped so.

Your thoughts stayed on Lucifer even after you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. Thoughts of his gentle touch, his strange behavior, and the way his magic had filled you with such strength.

You felt renewed vigor after that sweet encounter with the king. It was like getting shot with a dose of ibuprofen and adrenaline all at once. The soreness in your ankles subsided, the strain on your back lessened, and you felt, dare you say… lighter on your feet?

Was that what angelic magic was capable of? Lucifer’s touch felt like nothing you had ever experienced before, at least compared to some of the other demons in the hotel.

Alastor’s magic was freezing to the touch, and whenever he was visibly displaying his power in the vicinity, you began to notice how your breath fell from your lips like fog. The Radio Demon’s aura played with your fight or flight instincts, putting you on the edge whenever his smile sharpened, those spots in your vision filled with strange symbols as he shot predatory eyes towards enemies of the hotel.

Fear was the driving force behind Alastor’s power, the elixir to spur that blood-lust in his veins. A similar feeling itched at the back of your scalp anytime Angel Dust returned from Valentino’s studio, the stench of an emotionally driven display of dominance that always led to someone curling against the cold, hard floor in anguish. While you held no reservations for the pleasant-speaking, red demon, you still regarded him with caution at the amount of trouble he could bring into your life at any moment.

Charlie had a lot of potential for being half-angel, the same magical essence that flowed through Heaven also flowed through her veins, mixed with the demonic presence imbued into her parents when they fell. It made you feel uneasy, being surrounded by such powerful forces with a child on the way.

Except, Lucifer’s aura was much different. It made you feel… grounded, and safe, like you could conquer the world. A boost of confidence with a hint of child-like giddiness that made a soft smile grace your lips the entire rest of the day.

That soft, golden magic that spread across your skin made warmth bloom through your body and sent pleasurable tingles up your spine. It eased the strain in your muscles and settled your nerves like a refreshing sip of red wine after a long day, making you dizzy for more. Even though you were the one to pull away first, that desire to get closer to Lucifer again didn't fade the rest of his visit. Which only made you frustrated at your own chaotic emotions.

Growling, you inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror, steam coiling around your face as the plush fabric of the towel soothed your soaked, heated skin as it dried the water dripping from your figure.

Curse these pregnancy hormones, for making you think such disrespectful thoughts! He was the king of Hell, not some pretty dilf with a thing for babies that made heat creep across your cheeks–and in between your thighs–without a second thought.

“I blame you for this,” you shot a glare down to your bump, before exiting the bathroom with a huff and reaching your dresser.

You began to change in an outfit for the day, which was taking much longer than usual now that your stomach was growing rounder by the day. It was obvious you were close to your due date, and that filled you with joy and anxiety.

Joy, to be finally holding your baby into your arms and letting them snuggle against your warm chest. Communicating through soft lullabies and whispers with the only response being kicked to your bladder wasn’t exactly the thrills of your pregnancy. When you finally had the little bean in your life, you’d do everything you could to spoil them rotten.

Your baby wasn’t exactly a ‘little bean’ anymore, but until you settled on a name, that was what you would continue to call them.

Thoughts about your baby always made your anxiety spike, thinking about what you would have to do to bring your child into the world. Labor wasn’t pretty in any realm, and the exhaustion and pain that would come with it wasn’t something you liked to think about too often.

What would happen if something went horribly wrong? Who… who would take care of your child?

You only sighed as you finished dressing, slipping on comfortable footwear as you crossed your room towards the hallway door. The trek from your room to the lobby had become quite a strenuous one, since you slept across the hotel from everyone else.

When you had first arrived, you still dealt with the occasional twisted stomach, especially after your nose began to identify once delicious smells as revolting to the point you were gagging just smelling a once beloved candle.

At your request, Alastor had found you a room with a small balcony that faced away from the city. It was the cleanest air, and smelled the least sulfury as that side of the hotel was hit with large drafts of fresh—or whatever was close enough in a place like Hell—air that you welcomed on days where you felt like emptying your last meal constantly.

Now, the long walk was killing your ankles, and the staircase conveniently placed between you and the lobby made your path even longer when you had to slowly waddle down the stairs. You haven’t come close to slipping yet, but seeing as you couldn’t see your feet any longer, it would surely happen eventually.

As the door to your room shut softly behind you, the plush carpet beneath your feet felt refreshing to your swollen appendages as you began strolling down the hallway. Yawning, you rubbed the remaining sleep from your eyes as you closed in on the staircase. Since waking up, an exhaustion deep in your bones had been plaguing you. Today, the only thing on the to-do list was to watch the newest episodes of ‘Hell’s Greatest Bachelor’ and sleep.

“What are you doing up there?” A familiar voice called from the bottom of the staircase, sending you a stern stare as he leaned against his cane.

You stopped, one foot hovering just above the first step as your head shot up and eyes widened as Lucifer stared at you with furrowed brows. What was he doing here? When did he get here, and why did you choose today to wear something comfy and casual?

Was he still upset about what happened last time?

“My King? W-what are you doing here?”

“I believe I asked you first. What are you doing all the way up on those steps?”

“Does His Majesty now quarrel with the stairs?” You teased, trying to contain a playful smile. Whenever you were in the fallen angel’s presence, you almost caught your lips curving into a goofy grin that was paired with heated cheeks.

It seemed Lucifer was in much better spirits today, his demeanor more playful than stern, and you sighed softly with relief.

“No!” The king huffed, before placing his black-heeled boots onto the plush, red carpet of the staircase and slowly made his way up to you, “What I quarrel with is someone trying to kill themselves! Do you know how dangerous this kinda thing is in your condition?”

There’s that word again, ‘Condition’. As if it is some illness that has befallen you and taken the use of your legs and critical thinking skills. Maybe it was just your emotions getting the best of you, but you really hated that word.

“I asked Alastor to put me over here, these windows have the best airflow” you shrugged, taking another step down the staircase which Lucifer only grimaced at.

“Stop moving, let me get to you,” Lucifer growled softly, watching you with unease before leaping up the final steps to your waiting figure.

He halted at a step just above you, and for the first time, you had to look up to meet the king’s gaze.

“I’m pregnant,” you squinted slightly, sending Lucifer a small glare as you frowned, “Not handicapped.”

“I know, I know…” Lucifer lifted an elbow to you, a gentle beckon for you to take his arm as he spoke, “But it’s always good to be a little extra careful! It’s not like I'm bothered doing this kind of thing for you, anyway.”

“You’re the king,” you take his gesture, sliding your arm around his as you lock elbows, warmth radiates from his touch and you relax slightly, “It’s demons like me who should be waiting on you like this.”

“I’m Lucifer Morningstar,” he puffed his chest slightly, quirking a playful brow at you, “I don’t need anyone to wait on me, because I can do it all with a snap of a finger.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he guided you down the stairs, silence following his proclamation. It was quite a long staircase and stole your breath most times you tried to climb it. Hopefully, this daily exercise would mean your next match with the cracked concrete path down the hill outside would be in your favor.

Lucifer’s hold on you was gentle but firm, as he used his other hand to softly tap his cane against each step. It was rhythmic, with purpose, and you thought in the silence of the large room you could hear him humming a soft tune, as he stared off in the distance.

“What are you singing?”

“I was singing something?” Lucifer perked, before he sent you an apologetic smile.

“I don’t mind it,” you replied with a soft smile, turning your head to meet his gaze, “Your voice is very… pretty.”

His eyes widened, face flushing slightly at the words that left your lips, which also caught you in surprise. Sure, you had gushed about his voice for the past three days, but you didn’t expect to be so blunt about it. Especially, when it was to the adult crush’s face!

“You think so?”

“Yes,” you batted your lashes at him, hold tightening around his arm as you continued down the steps, “You have a very velvety, soft voice, even when you’re humming. Like a lullaby, something I'd sing to my baby before bed.”

You felt Lucifer puff his chest slightly, his posture straightening beside you and you could only smile in delight. It was obvious Lucifer liked your compliments, and you had no problem reminding him of how gorgeous he was.

You imagined that the fallen angel was carved from the smoothest marble with the most precise hands, a perfect sculpture of a man that humans could only envy.

“I used to do the same for Charlie,” Lucifer replied after a few moments, a content smile on his lips as if he was replaying the memories with fondness, “I like to think she got her musical talent from all the nights I sang her to sleep.”

“That’s so funny, Charlie seems like she was a wild baby,” you laughed softly as the two of you continued walking down the steps, halfway there now. Envy itched at the back of your scalp as you imagined what it would be like to have someone else doting over you and your baby like that.

“She was,” Lucifer gushed, just as your feet hit the hallway flooring of the hallway. The happiness Lucifer displayed talking about his daughter only made your heart swell.

If your ex had stayed around, would he have shown the same care Lucifer had in the short amount of time since you had met him? Probably not. At least you had done the right thing and dropped him the moment he chose his dick over a family, there were no regrets anymore about your past actions regarding that asshole of a demon.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for helping me with that difficult task,” You slowly began to slip your arm out of Lucifer’s hold, and he hesitated slightly, but released his hold after a moment, “Now I believe it's your turn to tell me what you’re doing here so soon.”

“I felt I’d come in person to tell Charlie about the meeting with Heaven. I got in contact with them and arranged a date for her. I just wanted to run through some rules she should keep in mind when she’s up there,” Lucifer replied.

You titled your head, smiling softly at his worried expression. His daughter is going someplace potentially dangerous where he couldn’t protect her, and that obviously made him uneasy. You’d feel the same if it was your child, the thought causing your hand to lift and brush a gentle thumb underneath your bump.

“Also, to apologize again,” Lucifer deflated slightly, rotating the apple-tipped cane between his fingers, “I overstepped my boundaries the last time we interacted, it was rude of me and I won't let it happen again.”

“Are you talking about that magic stuff you did to me?” You asked, tilting your head with a quirked brow.

“Yes… I didn’t realize I was doing it until you reacted. It’s just kind of an instinct for me, blessing babies. I mean–well, I can’t bless anymore, but it's still the same kind of magic. I understand if it made you uncomfortable and everything…”

“I liked it.”

“You did?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his cane freezing in his grip as he stared at you.

“Yes! I was just taken aback is all, I’m sorry. Whatever you did, it felt very invigorating, like I could climb a mountain!” you nodded your head vigorously, eyes sparkling as you sent Lucifer a playful smile.

“Oh… well, I’m glad I could be of use to you,” he averted his gaze with a bashful grin, adjusting his long collar with flustered fingers.

“Would you do it again?” You asked with a raised brow, puckering your lips slightly as you batted your lashes towards Lucifer. Whatever he did felt like some kind of drug you craved, boosting your mood and energy like nothing ever has.

“Uh huh…” Lucifer’s gaze drifted to your lips momentarily, before you unpuckered them and they curved into a pleased grin.

“Great! Here, you can even touch my bump again, if that makes things easier,” you beamed, lacing your fingers with Lucifer’sm who tensed at your bold touch. Gently, you pulled his arm towards the underside of your bump, lifting the fabric slightly so his finger could softly graze against soft skin.

Lucifer was deathly still, his hand obediently limp in your hold as you adjusted closer to the baby’s position. They had been very active this morning, playing patty cake with your bladder and parkouring against the walls of your womb. Even now, you could feel a slight nudging against the side of your stomach, and you pressed Lucifer’s hand gently into your skin.

“...There! Can you feel it?”

Right on cue, your baby roughly nudged you, your skin shifting slightly against their jab, and Lucifer’s hand tensed at the feeling. That soft smile of his widened, that glimmer of adoration returning to his gaze as his index finger extended, a soft golden glow emanating from the skin Lucifer’s hand was softly pressed against.

Just like last time, a soothing burst of energy flowed through your limbs. The ache in your feet ebbed, that weight in your back lessening, along with the similar sensation of experiencing a sugar rush. The urge to do a few laps around the hotel, if that was even possible at this point.

And then, something strange happened. Something… different from the last time. You felt pulsing against your skin where Lucifer's fingers lay.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump. Fast and rhythmic, beating with life. As your skin seemed to glow with the angelic light, the noise only got louder as it echoed around the room. Your fingers still wrapped delicately around Lucifer’s hand tightened slightly, as the pulsing grew stronger.

“Can you hear that?” Lucifer whispered softly, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he met your gaze.

“Is that…?”

“Their heartbeat,” he replied with a smile, “It sounds very strong, too. A perfect, healthy baby.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened for a few more moments, the sounds of your child’s beating heart like music to your ears.

After a few more moments, Lucifer slowly slid his hand out of your grip and away from your stomach. With his touch went the warmth and that magical, golden glow. The room fell silent again, that musical rhythm fading with the light.

You wiped your eyes with a free hand, holding in a sniffle as you smoothed the fabric of your outfit back into place with the other.

“Better?”

“Very much,” you nodded, your posture straightening that made relief bloom down your aching spine, “Enough to go for a walk outside, even!”

“Alone?”

“Well, who else?” You quirked a brow, turning towards the long hallway on the other end of the room, one hand resting on your bump as you walked, “Angel is working, Sir. Pentious sleeps until noon, and Charlie and Vaggie always spend their mornings together. Unless you are suggesting that I ask Alastor, who actually might be around here somewher—“

“—It's almost like, ” Lucifer slid up right beside you, arm softly brushing against yours as he sent you a charming grin, keeping pace with your slight amble, “There is a demon very close by that is perfectly capable of lending assistance. One that has done a fantastic job so far providing both protection and entertainment, don’t you agree?

“Doesn’t this demon have plans with his daughter this fine morning?”

“Apparently his daughter has plans with someone else, and I’d hate to interrupt the two lovebirds doing whatever it is that young kids do these days.”

“And you’d rather spend your free time with me?” You questioned with a soft, disbelieving laugh. Why would someone that could go anywhere he pleased and do anything he wanted, spend time with a random demon from the streets like you?

“If the lady allows me,” Lucifer hummed with a grin.

What was so bad about letting him join you? It was only a quick walk, and you didn’t mind his company one bit. He was the king of Hell anyway, he could join you even without your consent. He was giving you a choice in the matter, and that just proved his character was more than that egotistical, powerful grin he displayed to his people on the covers of magazines.

“His Majesty may join my stroll if he wishes,” you grinned, sending him a playful glance as the hallway opened up slightly as you neared the front of the building.

Lucifer seemed to have a little more pep in his step the rest of the way to the lobby, which was unusually empty as the two of you passed through the large room towards the front entrance. The fallen angel slid right past you to reach the doors first, before he opened one wide for you with a courteous tip of his hat as you passed by.

“What a gentleman,” you teased with a giggle, patting him softly on the shoulder as you passed by, before stepping into the morning light. Basked in light red hues, you stepped onto the grass.

“There’s a dirt path that goes around the building, just a lap is all I needed to burn some energy.” You turned to him with a smile.

Before you even got to take a step in that direction, your stomach rumbled loudly, and Lucifer’s head snapped in your direction, before he quirked a brow at your averted gaze.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

“No, it's still early. I get sick if I eat right away in the morning, ” you explained. Another addition to the list of pregnancy symptoms that liked to torment you.

“Something light, at least,” Lucifer suggested, his eyes landing on a rickety old picnic table before turning to you with a pleading look.

You don’t argue with the fallen angel, instead brushing past him to take a seat on one of the benches. With all the extra weight in your middle, sitting was also becoming a nuance, and the muscles in your legs were probably twice the size now with all the exercising you were doing lately.

“What’s on the menu today?” Lucifer asked from the other side of the table, rubbing his hands with a playful smile as he removed his hat and coat to lay gently beside him.

After a few moments of thought, you indulged him on your latest food fix.

“The lady is as cultured as ever,” the king responded with a grin, before snapping his fingers and lifting his hand palm-up to catch a plate of your desire and lowering it gently onto the table, before catching a tall glass of water in the other.

Digging into your gourmet breakfast, Lucifer watched you with a small smile, pleased that you were eating something at least. His thoughts pulled him away for a few moments as you hungrily devoured the food on the table.

You both sat there in comfortable silence, drinking in the morning peace.

“What are your plans after you have the baby?” Lucifer finally spoke, his chin resting against his knuckles as he stared at you softly. The gentle breeze tousled his silky blonde strands, as you took a sip from your glass.

“Probably find somewhere deeper in the city, where the jobs are. I’m sure there’s somewhere hiring that will take my skills. Maybe I’ll actually become a baker this time.”

“You don’t plan on staying?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you shook your head, pausing to take another large sip of your water, “Charlie’s already been accommodating enough, I can’t ask for more”

“Did he think you were a bother?” Lucifer suddenly blurted.

He?

“Who?”

“You’re… previous partner,” he slowly replied, stepping carefully to the subject of your ex-boyfriend. Someone who you had desperately tried to forget these past few months, to no avail.

You blinked, tilting your head. Had Lucifer heard your conversation with Mimzy from when you first met? Had he been letting whatever thoughts stew until it drove him mad enough to ask you about it now?

“I think he was more bothered by the fact he was going to be a father, than just me,” you laughed dryly, tracing the thin lines in the wood absently as you further exposed the shortcomings in your life.

Lucifer clenched his fist, pupils narrowing in irritation at your words. A soft growl resonated from his throat, and you lifted your head in concern at his emotional display.

“I’m sorry,” he shrunk slightly under your questioning star, averting his gaze to control his outburst. “It’s just hard to believe that anyone would treat someone like you with such disregard.”

Your mouth parted slightly, but no words left your lips as you processed his statement, heart fluttering at his reaction. Guilt and regret crossed his features for bringing up the topic, as if you were a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the mention of your old lover.

Was Lucifer angry for you?

You found yourself overwhelmed by Lucifer's unexpected display of protectiveness and concern. His reaction stirred a mixture of emotions within you, ranging from surprise to gratitude. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you only glimpsed before—a side that cared deeply about your well-being.

“Lucifer I—“

“Let’s not dwell on the past,” the fallen angel interrupted you, rising from the bench suddenly as the empty dishes around you vanished with a burst of red smoke.

He slipped on his overcoat and hat, before moving around the table to stand by your side. You looked up at him with a questioning stare once more.

“Shall we continue?” Lucifer asked softly, before lifting an elbow offering it to you.

You frowned at his change in the conversation, before lowering your gaze to his arm and slowly reaching up to grasp it with a small smile. Fine, you’d drop his sudden interest in your past and future.

Using his angelic strength, Lucifer helped you rise from your seat, a show of support you accepted gratefully. You locked elbows with him again, before turning towards the dirt pathway that wrapped around the hotel.

For now, you’d let him dote on you without fuss. One day, though, you’d figure out what made the fallen angel so interested in you.

After that, Lucifer came to visit the hotel more often, which also meant paying a visit on your end too. It always started with a soft knock on your door, before he greeted you with that charming grin that instantly sent butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

Then, he’d pull out an item from the inside of his coat, lifting it towards you like an offering. Usually, it was food that the fallen angel had noticed you taking a liking to. He’d lift a diverse array of mouth-watering goodies to your face, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as you hungrily accepted them.

Your cravings seemed to change by the week, so the poor guy began keeping a list of them all on the door of his fridge as a daily reminder of what could win your heart. Cravings weren’t the only things he kept an eye on, every interest you spoke of during those long conversations were memorized.

As time went on, the gifts he offered you grew bigger, and so did your reactions to seeing them.

One day, Lucifer had walked you back to the staircase in an odd silence. He had never been so quiet before, and his demeanor was more anxious than usual. You didn’t have time to ponder that thought for long when the king cleared his throat to grab your attention.

“So…. I was a little bored last night,” Lucifer started, adjusting his long collar nervously as you regarded him with a quirked brow, “and, well, seeing as you didn’t have much for the baby, I thought I could give you a hand, soooo I made you this!”

His arm quickly lifted towards you, and you leaned forward to get a look at the small object in his hand.

Nestled in Lucifer’s palm, was a small, yellow rubber ducky. Your eyes widened, breath hitched, as your gaze flicked from the toy to Lucifer, then back to the ducky adorned with a small, white hat. He watched your reaction intensely, and at your silence, he cracked an awkward grin.

“For the little one, in case you didn’t have anything for them. It’s even got a little baker's hat, since I know that’s kind of your thing.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you took the duck gingerly from his hand, turning it over as you traced the outline of the beak, the cute little hat, and finally its adorable tail feathers curled at the back. It stirred something in you, your stomach swimming with emotions that were threatening to bubble up and consume you while staring at the toy.

He made this… for your baby? As a gift to you?

That was so sweet of him, and not even Charlie had given you something so thoughtful. Sure, she paid for a majority of your baby necessities—which you owed her your life for, no matter how much the girl disagreed—but she never presented you with something made from the heart like this.

Lucifer did, though. Even if he made a million matching yellow duckies beforehand, he still made this one specifically for you. Had your ex ever cared enough to do something like this for you? You couldn’t recall. And yet, a man who was practically a stranger before you was the one to care enough.

Fuck, you were about to cry. You tried to steel yourself, holding back tears.

You met Lucifer’s gaze after a few moments, as you softly stroked the little toy with your thumb. The fallen angel only grimaced at your reaction, his smile faltering slightly as he watched your eyes well with tears and your lip start to quiver.

“Do you hate it?” He asked slowly, and you realized you were beginning to sniffle softly, hiccups building in your chest as you blinked in confusion.

“Hate—hic—It? Why would you think…?” You started, before you felt tears welling up underneath your chin, and dripping softly onto the ducky close to your chest.

You mentally slapped yourself, of course Lucifer would think you disliked it because of how emotional you were being. Shame ate at you after that. Here the king of Hell was, thinking about you and your baby and making something in his own free time, only for you to reward him with tears.

Curse these hormones!

Now, the quiet sniffles that escaped you were from both sadness and delight, as you clutched the rubber ducky closer to your chest. The tears spilled faster from your cheeks, wetting the ground beneath you. A few droplets landed on your exposed arm, and its cool touch was a welcome sensation from the heat boiling underneath your skin.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” you finally breathed, rubbing a hand across your face to get rid of the tears, before you inhaled a sharp breath to calm yourself, “I’m sorry for being such a… such a—”

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to rope in the last bit of control you had over your emotions that were threatening to come undone. You sucked in a large, sputtering breath and Lucifer leaned back, just as your lips quivered violently.

“—a wreck!” you wailed after that, placing your free hand to your mouth to try and hold in your sobs.

Lucifer jumped slightly, closing in the distance between the two of you as he rushed to your side. He bit his lip, what could he possibly do to make you feel better? If he would have known this was how you were going to react

“Wait, no! You’re not a wreck, you’re completely fine. Perfect, even! Oh, please don’t cry…”

The man was starting to pace as you held a hand to your mouth, slowly but surely clamping down on your outburst of emotion.

“Here, have another one!” A second rubber ducky appeared with a red burst of smoke, landing softly into his palm as he lifted it towards your face, “Don’t worry I have a lot more at home!”

The duckie's cute little apron, displaying a cookie and two tiny wooden spoons in the shape of an X, only made your lip quiver more violently. Lucifer slowly pulled the third ducky away from your view behind his back, staring with concern as you tried to catch your breath.

“It’s so cute!” you gasped through the tears, before rubbing your eyes once more.

“You think so?” He replied in disbelief.

You nodded your head vigorously, smiling through the tears as you clutched both ducks to your chest. Lucifer slowly caught on, before breathing a large sigh of relief like he just avoided doomsday.

“Are… you two okay?” Came a familiar voice from the edge of the room. You turned your head to see Charlie standing with a confused expression as she watched Lucifer fuss over your disheveled figure.

“Charlie!” Lucifer perked, shooting her an awkward grin as he stood beside you, “I didn’t expect to see you here! I just thought I'd swing by and give our friend here a little something for their child.”

You held out your hands to the princess, who leaned in to get a better look at the yellow toys. The familiar body shape, orange beak, and beady little eyes had her immediately recognizing the objects and the reason behind your emotional outburst.

“Awe, that’s so sweet, Dad!” Charlie clutched her chest, swooning at the sight of the small rubber ducks in your hands, “To make something for her baby like that, so thoughtful of you!”

She walked closer towards you and Lucifer, passing right by a few feet away to a hallway on the other end of the room.

“Well, I won’t interrupt the two of you any longer, comfortable in each other's company already” Charlie waggled her eyebrows at you, throwing her dad an encouraging thumbs up before walking around a corner and out of sight.

That had been a very embarrassing moment for you, but after the initial upsetting reaction, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind the changes pregnancy had forcefully placed upon you. Emotionally or physically, he seemed to adore traits that you had acquired during these past few months.

The fallen angel had been helping you in the kitchen one afternoon, as you made apple empanadas at his subtle request.

Since you had first introduced Lucifer to your cooking, he couldn’t get enough of it. Anytime you mentioned using the kitchen, his head would snap towards you, licking his lips with hunger. The fallen angel had never asked outright for you to make anything for him, but dropping hints like ‘I thought I'd drop off some more apples for your pantry, since I know you like to use them in your baking and all.’

You’d simply shake your head and pull out Alastor’s recipe book, flipping through the pages for anything that used the red fruit. Thankfully, there was more than just tarts and pie that you could try your hand at.

Thankfully, Lucifer ate up your dishes with the ferocity of a starving child every time.

“If you can just materialize any food you want, why not just make these yourself?” You had asked him once, as you took small balls of dough into round, flattened pieces against the kitchen countertop.

“Your food is just much better,” he had shrugged next to you, folding the dough-wrapped apple stuffing into dumpling-like shapes, before setting them neatly on a cookie sheet to be baked. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms, his red-and-white-striped waistcoat covered by a tall red apron.

Heat crept across your cheeks at Lucifer’s words and you averted your gaze to hide your flustered expression. With his help, you’d never fuss about making him sweet treats. Especially if you got to indulge in them as well.

Picking up a light stack of dishes you walked around the counter towards the sink. Your walk wasn’t really a walk anymore, your gait altered to adjust for the weight of what was basically a watermelon strapped to your stomach.

You were also much slower, and you hated it.

Right as you reached the sink, a soft chuckle reverberated behind you. Lucifer’s gaze had followed your figure, his eyes glinting with amusement as you moved.

“What are you laughing at?” You shot him a playful, suspicious glance as you placed the dishes gently into the sink.

“Your walk, it reminds me of a waddle,” Lucifer teased with a soft smile, "Like a duck, adorable without even trying.”

That only sent you into another flustered mess, cheeks heating in embarrassment that it was quite obvious you were struggling with the growing baby weight so far into your pregnancy.

Even with the multitude of compliments given to you by the king, your self-esteem had greatly deflated as the months passed.

“I look rather unsightly now,” you had sighed, adjusting your outfit in the tall mirror near your room’s dresser.

Lucifer was leaning against the frame of your doorway, arms crossed as he watched you analyze yourself meticulously.

“What? Who told you that?” Lucifer questioned with a soft growl, brows furrowing.

“Nobody,” you replied with a frown, crossing your arms, “Nobody needs to tell me I look terrible. It’s clear as day, just look at me!”

“I am,” he smiled softly, shooting you casual bedroom eyes, “And I am very tempted to show you just how wrong you are, but my daughter demands my presence, and who am I to deny my little girl’s call?”

“Looks like I’ll just have to see you later,” you replied as he strolled up to you with a cheeky smile.

“Of course,” he had purred, his fingers lacing with yours before he lifted your hand to his face. Lowering his head, Lucifer brushed his lips softly against your knuckles, heat radiating from his touch. Your heart fluttered, breath hitching as you resisted the urge to melt right then and there.

Lucifer had tipped his hat to you, releasing your fingers slowly before turning away and walking out the door. You had smiled like a dumb teenager then, your mood instantly brightening at his flirtatious demeanor.

However long this… bond between you and Lucifer lasted, you prayed it was full of nothing but soft memories. Only time would tell whether the king would get bored of you and simply turn the other cheek at your presence, no indication that the two of you had ever held a conversation.

‘Stop being so paranoid,’ you growled to yourself, shaking your head, ‘He’s only ever been kind to you. Caring, thoughtful, funny. What more do you want?’

With the last month of your pregnancy just around the corner, you were determined to make this last, mostly peaceful period a pleasant one with the people you cared about.

Hopefully, things will stay peaceful until then.

But, as Extermination Day closed in, so did your due date. You were giddy for the arrival of the latter, ready for the freedoms that came with having total control of your body once more.

‘I can’t wait until you’re outta me, kiddo,” you patted your round stomach affectionately, before waddling out of your room. Which was about five doors down from the lobby now, closer to the rest of the residents. It was noisier now, but at least you didn’t have to walk a mile to get decent food.

It was Charlie who had initially convinced you to move, citing the fact that if you were to go into labor during the night or somewhere too far from the others, it may pose a risk to your baby in the case of an emergency.

She was right, and Lucifer had no qualms with the change, as expected.

The only downside to being close to your due date was the many false alarms signaling you of labor. False alarms that only heightened everyone’s unease that you were a water balloon waiting to burst at any moment's notice.

Lucifer’s anxiety especially spiked whenever you’d suddenly wince, hissing in pain as you put a shaky hand on your stomach. He’d come rushing to your side, and you responded to his concern with an assuring smile and a pat on your stomach.

“I’m fine, just Braxton-Hicks contractions, nothing serious… I think.”

The king would sigh in relief at your words, relaxing slightly before offering you water or something to snack on.

In the final month of your pregnancy, you were under strict orders by the royal family to refrain from lifting a finger until the baby came. You found that when the two Morningstar’s weren’t busy, they were finding ways to entertain you and soothe the natural pains that came with being on the very last leg of your pregnancy.

Seeing as Extermination Day was just around the corner, the two weren’t around much as the days went on. Charlie was disappearing more often to try and gather support against Adam’s forces, and Lucifer was slowly regressing into another one of his depressive episodes.

Lucifer’s woes weren’t magically solved simply because he was finding purpose in caring for you and the hotel, mental health was unfortunately not that smoothly paved of a road to traverse. The king still had days where he retreated into the darkness of his mansion, barely a word to you or Charlie during that time. Only to reappear with tired, sunken eyes and a handful of freshly crafted rubber ducks for your growing collection.

You always gave him the space he needed, it just was terrible timing seeing his daughter was preparing to fight an army of murderous angels.

Until one day Lucifer appeared in front of the door of your room, knocking so softly you almost missed it if you weren’t right next to the wooden frame. Extermination Day was only a week away.

“You should get somewhere safe,” He had started right as you appeared in the doorway, “This hotel is full of targets for Heaven, you shouldn't be in such a stressful environment with the risk of an attack.”

“I thought they can’t go after my kind?” You had questioned, head tilting in confusion.

“The contract explicitly states they can’t, but that doesn’t mean one idiot can’t point the spear at the wrong demon in the chaos. I just don’t want to risk anything.” Lucifer pleaded silently for your agreement, his eyes soft with concern.

“If that’s what you think is best,” you had replied softly, heart fluttering at the level of worry and care the fallen angel displayed towards you and your child.

There was a small villa nestled on the outskirts of the city Lucifer owned, quiet and peaceful with its own butler that you’d rely on while you stayed there during the extermination. Lucifer had nudged at the idea of you staying there for more than just a couple of days, insisting how much better equipped it was to house a baby and away from any danger.

You had considered it, but your answer wasn’t finalized by the time Extermination Day rolled around, and you awoke with packed bags and a twisting stomach. You had been feeling… off all morning. Your bump felt heavier as you completed your early routine, your baby a little more active than usual. Sleep was a rarity the past few days, and you tried to rid your mind of drowsiness as you stood in front of Charlie with

“Okay, so there is a limo coming to pick you and your things up soon. I made sure to have them pull up at the top of the hill for you,” The princess spoke as Vaggie tightened her outfit from the back, adjusting it slightly against her skin.

It was a red suit that stuck to her figure perfectly, providing ample flexibility and movement during battle. You had never imagined Charlie in this kind of scenario, someone who strongly opposed violence walking straight into it? A surprising sight, but the princess was set on being on the frontlines with the rest of her people when Adam arrived.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, before wincing at a ripple of pain that hit your from your lower abdomen.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I've just been feeling a little under the weather lately. Nothing to be worried about.” You smiled reassuringly to the princess. She had much bigger things to fuss about then you.

“Okay, just let me know if something changes,” She nodded, adjusting her red suit as she spoke, “I haven’t been able to get ahold of my dad this morning… I hope he didn’t forget today was when the big army was coming down to try and kill us all.”

You had chuckled nervously along with Charlie at her own words. As much as it seemed like a simple tease, you had a sneaking feeling Lucifer would actually lose track of time and show up to the battle halfway through.

Charlie had turned away from you with a quick farewell, continuing preparations for the coming battle as you stood at the entrance to the hotel, waiting for the private car to arrive.

Then, you were hit with a cramp that had an intensity you hadn't experienced yet. It was followed by a sharp pinch deep inside your abdomen, before liquid began to pool at your feet. You froze, heart pounding as you stood deathly silent.

Was that your water breaking? Were you going into labor now?!

“Charlie!” Your voice cracked painfully as you called for the woman, who was adjusting a heart-shaped shield against her arm. The princess turned around to meet your gaze with confusion, before it morphed into concern as she scanned your figure, looking for what had you looking so shell-shocked.

“Oh!” Charlie gasped, her expression a mixture of panic and delight as the dots connected, “Oh my! It's happening! Hold on, hold on, I’m going to grab my phone!”

Another contraction hit you as Charlie dashed off, causing you to double over in pain and Vaggie to rush to your side with concern etched on her features. The next few minutes turned into a blur as the limo pulled up, and you were slowly moved to its waiting frame.

This was it, it was time to have this baby. A relieving thought as you reached the vehicle’s side, your heart beating rapidly and mind racing with a million thoughts at once.

Your mind was still racing by the time you arrived inside the hospital and assigned a room.

“You got this, boss!” An Egg Boi cheered atop a stool right beside your hospital bed, your hand clenched dangerously tight around his stick arm as you inhaled a sharp breath of pain.

“Thank you, Frank,” You grimaced, adjusting your posture atop the mattress as you tried to find any amount of relief during this naturally uncomfortable chapter of becoming a mother. The contractions were getting closer together, and were increasing in l; length and intensity since you first started keeping track.

Immediately after telling Charlie the badly-timed news, she had you rushed off to a nearby maternity ward. At arrival, you were forced to change into a thin and revealing hospital gown, before being strapped to machines that read your baby’s vitals and recorded your contractions.

Apparently, the small hospital you were in was the best medical facility in all of Hell, paid for and used by the Morningstar family and the rest of the realm’s royalty.

The employees signed strict NDAs on what transpires during their shift, to prevent them from spilling to the press if a tragedy were to strike among the highest nobility.

You had been here for the past few hours, the warning sirens outside had gone off a while ago, signaling Heaven’s attack on Pentagram City. The shades were drawn in your little room, preventing the witness of any gruesome sights right outside your window.

You couldn’t stomach watching the live footage of the extermination on your teeny hospital TV, not right now. Instead, you had some childish cartoon playing for Frank, who Sir. Pentious had insisted on going with you since everyone else was needed in the fight.

The drawback of not knowing the status of the hotel only made your anxiety worsen, though.

Was everyone okay? Was Lucifer with them? Did he know you were here? Maybe, they won already… or lost. A hundred unwanted thoughts sped through your mind concerning your friends, but when another contraction hit you and you grimaced against the feeling of your insides being squeezed silly, the matters concerning anything outside of this room were not on your mind any longer.

That’s right, focus on the baby. They were your priority right now, their well-being depended on how you handled the next few hours. Soon, you’d finally get to welcome your child to the realm and in your arms. Every change and ache you’ve experienced for the past few months won’t have been for nothing, and you’d be cool with not experiencing this again for a long while afterward.

Right as your head settled exhaustively against the cool, sterile pillow and Frank soothingly patted your hand, the door to your room opened and a small bunny-faced woman quietly slipped into the room.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Smith, just coming in to check up on you. How are you feeling?” The sandy-colored demon asked with a pleasant smile, her black heels clicking softly against the tile floor as she moved to your bedside.

“I feel like we’re getting closer,” you croaked softly, lips cracked with thirst. Unfortunately, if you wanted a much less painful delivery, water was a no-no until your epidural. Your contractions had been manageable, but as the hour began to change, they were coming in more intense and closer waves.

“Let’s check, shall we?” Her long ears perked, as she moved towards the monitors displaying your child’s heart rate and other information, including how dilated your cervix was.

“Oh, it looks like you’re dilated about 9 centimeters. I think we’re ready to meet the little one! I’ll call the other nurses, and the anesthesiologist for the epidural.”

“Thank god,” You breathed with relief, the numbing liquid would be your saving grace in these trying times.

The nurse left the room to fetch the rest of the delivery team, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as you took deep, shaky breaths to calm your nerves. It wasn’t really working, and while you understood the need for all hands on deck to fight a horde of trained angelic killers, the lack of familiar, comforting faces inside the building.

Frank was a nice little addition, but he could only offer you so much support with eyes glued to the screen of dancing, animated fruit with baby features.

When the anesthesiologist arrived, surrounded by a multitude of demons dressed in white medical attire, he had greeted you softly before lifting a long, thin needle to your view.

Gulping quietly, you rose to face your back towards the doctor, and he began poking uncomfortably down your spine. When it seemed like he had found the perfect spot, you felt a sharp pinch in your back before faint warmth slowly crept from the spot the demon had injected.

When that was finished, and you reclined back against your mattress, the staff around you were prepping the baby cleaning station and fussing around at the end of the bed near your legs.

Then, a tall woman with lion-like features strolled into the room, her commanding presence told you she was the head honcho of the small crew of white-clad women who were busy around you.

“Hello, I’m the OB that’s going to help deliver your baby today,” she walked up to the side of your bed, pulling light blue latex gloves onto her paws as her eyes landed on the egg-shaped demon beside you with an odd expression, “Is he the…?”

“No!” You gasped, releasing Frank's arm and scooching over an inch from the short demon, before raising a brow to the doctor with a gaze that silently questioned ‘Seriously? You think I’d bang an egg?’

She only shrugged, before turning away from you to speak quietly to a few nurses washing their hands. With a sigh, you twisted your head to face your innocent companion, tapping his shell softly to get his attention. Another contraction hit you, but the high-quality numbing agent had you barely reacting.

“Frank, sweetie, can you please wait outside until I get done with my… business here?”

“Sure thing!” The egg replied happily, his eyes moving from the cartoons to you with a thumbs up, before the demon tipped his little black hat in a bid of farewell and hopped off the stool beside your bed.

As the nurses scurried around your legs, before lifting them with care and slipping your ankles snugly inside. You felt bare and exposed—which you were—and while the room was much more comfortable and dimly lit than other hospitals you had been to, constant beeping equipment paired with the faint smell of the beach only heightened your anxiety at the fact you were about to give birth.

“Deep breaths for me, dear,” the OB spoke softly, before slipping a surgical mask onto her face, and retreating to in between your legs, two nurses at the ready beside her. Her figure became obscured as she bent down below the sheet that was covering the sight before your lifted knees.

Following her instructions obediently, you regained control of your breathing. Deep inhale, long exhale. Another, and another, then another, until you could feel your heart beginning to slow its racing pace.

“Alright, it’s time. On my count, I want you to start pushing when you feel your contractions, okay?” The OB piped up from underneath the sheet, and your fingers gripped the rails on the side of your bed with deadly force as you mentally prepared yourself.

“1…”

Deep breaths, you’ve got this.

“2…”

Please let this be a smooth delivery.

“3…”

I wish Lucifer were here.

“Alright, mama, push!”

Straining against the stirrups slightly, you inhaled a deep breath and poured all your strength into your lower abdomen with a grunt as you followed the doctor’s command. After a few moments of heavy exertion, you felt the contraction begin to ebb. Your head hit the pillow with a gasp for breath, sweat beginning to down your forehead.

A contraction slowly builds in your abdomen, cueing you into gathering your strength once. As you readied for another round of pushing, you turned towards a nurse who was standing supportively on the left side of the bed.

“I’m never having sex with a man again,” you groaned, lifting your head from the pillow with effort..

“Oh, sweetie,” the much older woman laughed, patting your hand soothingly, “That’s what they all say.”

Lucifer stood proudly in front of the newly rebuilt hotel, the strobe of lights flashing rhythmically, lighting up the building’s tall figure with a tempting glow to wide-eyed onlookers. The small, misfit army of Hell had defeated Adam and sent killer angels back to Heaven.

There were casualties on both sides, but thankfully only one demon that resided inside the hotel was taken from the realm. Sir. Pentious, an inventor, leader, and friend. Lucifer may have not known the snake demon for very long, but the respect he held for the brave captain was immense.

“What a beauty! And it only took us one musical number to get it all done, that has got to be a record!” The fallen angel nodded his head approvingly, crossing his arms as he twisted his head to observe the small crowd of demons.

The princess stood a few feet away, handing Cherry Bomb a small medical kit as she leaned against a bench. The cyclops woman sent Charlie a small appreciative smile as she took the metal case from her hands.

Turning, she strolled up to her father with tired eyes, exhaustion evident on her features, both mentally and physically from everything she had just experienced in the short span of a few hours.

“We did good, if I do say so myself,” Lucifer grinned pridefully to his daughter, blonde hair swaying softly in the breeze as he met her halfway.

“Yeah. That's for doing most of the work, Dad. We wouldn't have gotten it done so fast without your magic.” Charlie nodded, smiling softly.

“Pfft, it was no biggie. Anything for my little girl,” Lucifer brushed off her compliment with a wave of his hand, before pulling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

Charlie and Lucifer stood next to each other in comfortable silence, as the princess absently rubbed the bruise on her throat. Adam’s grip had been suffocating, the intention of harm evident on his expressive mask before it was split in two by Lucifer’s powerful retaliation.

“I think she’ll really like this place, If she hasn't already seen it on TV at the villa.” Her father finally spoke after a few moments.

She. Charlie didn’t need her dad to say your name to know who he was talking about. You were one of the few women that was on Lucifer’s mind these days, and it was obvious the two of you had grown closer these past few months. She was sure if you were at the hotel during the battle the king would have been a raging mess to keep both you and his daughter safe. Fortunately, you were far from anyone who would want to lay a hand on you.

“I think she’s a little busy right now, since she’s..”

It suddenly occurred, the cloud of exhaustion parting just enough for the recollection of where exactly you had gone to smack Charlie square in the face. The princess had been so busy getting thrown around in battle, mourning her friend, and helping rebuild the hotel she almost forgot why you had left so suddenly.

“She’s having her baby!” Charlie suddenly gasped, eyes widening before she threw her hands up to hold her head in realization.

“She’s what?” Lucifer whispered, his face paling to an even whiter shade as he froze in place.

“She went into labor this morning, so I had her taken to that hospital you liked,” Charlie explained breathlessly, a few demons around them eavesdropping on their conversation as Vaggie walked over with a mirrored expression of realization.

“Alone?” The fallen angel replied, mouth slightly agape as panic began to set into his features.

“One of Pentious’ eggs is with her,” Cherry Bomb answered softly from her spot on the bench with a melancholy gaze, as she re-wrapped a nasty wound with gauze.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded.

“I was kind of in the middle of a battle!” Charlie replied defensively, her mind racing now as she worried about you and how you were faring during such a stressful time. What about the baby?

Lucifer didn’t respond, turning away from the gathering group of demons as he snapped his fingers. In an instant, his long overcoat materialized atop his shoulders, and his hat floated down gracefully to rest upon the king’s head as golden magic circled his figure, before disappearing without a word.

“Why couldn't he have done that for the rest of us?” Angel Dust grumbled from beside Cherry, before standing with a sigh and cracking his back. Husk strolled up to stand beside him, mouth opening in a large yawn as he itched his chin with a claw.

“I’ll call a cab,” Vaggie replied, rushing off in search of a phone as Charlie began to bite her nail to try and relieve some of the stress that was beginning to bubble up in her stomach. A million unwanted thoughts of scenarios where something terrible happened to you or the baby eating at her mind.

The apple-cheeked woman’s nail was still at the mercy of her nervous chewing as she rocked self-soothingly in the chair next to Vaggie, who rubbed her shoulder softly in support.

Five battered demons sat in cushioned armchairs arranged in neat rows across a small waiting room right outside of the maternity ward.

Alastor had disappeared again sometime after the hotel had been finished, with no word of his whereabouts. Cherry Bomb had been too disheveled to join, tears brimming from her large eye as the rest of the demons squished into one taxi and sped off.

When they arrived, Lucifer was already inside the hospital, foot tapping impatiently in the front lobby as he pointed a commanding finger down towards a white, oval-shaped figure standing agape before him.

“You, talking egg,” The fallen angel began, voice deepening to display his superior authority as Charlie approached from behind, “You were sent here today to keep watch over someone very important. Now lead them to me… please”

Frank had stated wide-eyed for a few more moments, before saluting his king and marching off into a hallway on the right.

Now, the king of Hell was displaying anything but the traits of an imposing leader. Hunched slightly, head lowered, an obvious nervous wreck as Lucifer paced along a wide pane of glass overlooking a more residential side of the city.

One pink, fuzzy demon stared intently at the anxious figure with a large smile of amusement.

“Ten bucks she’s handling everything much better actually popping out the kid than this poor fella is over here,” Angel teased as he gestured towards Lucifer, before meeting Husk’s eyes from the chair next to him.

The feline’s gaze moved to follow the king’s continuous back-and-forth trail in front of the window across the room, the apple-tipped cane twisting between his fingers impatiently as he waited for news on your condition. Lucifer raked a hand through his hair, pulling back the tousled strands as he mumbled something incoherent.

It was obvious Lucifer and Charlie were related by much more than just their looks, one being how badly they handled stressful situations. You were being cared for by the best doctors in Hell, what could go wrong?

“Nah, you’re probably right,” Husk finally replied with a chuckle, before his eyelids slowly lowered and he drifted off into a light, cat-like sleep.

A quiet purr resonated from his chest as he napped, and Angel smiled before lifting the pink phone in his hands and taking a selfie, Husk’s peaceful expression slightly visible from behind the spider’s figure.

Somehow, Niffty had gotten hold of a handful of markers and was demonstrating her artistry on a living canvas for amusement. Frank sat on the floor near Vaggie’s feet while the tiny cyclops doodled across his shell, he didn’t move an inch.

When the door to the waiting room opened, a nurse clad in white slipped inside, and everyone froze to stare at the approaching demon. She lowered her gaze respectfully in Lucifer's presence, and halted right in front of the first row of chairs.

“Huska’, wake up!” Angel Dust whispered sternly into the feline’s ear and a poke to the cheek, who popped a disgruntled eye open in response to the interruption.

Husk turned to shoot Angel a glare before his eyes landed on the demon woman standing in front, his ears perking in interest.

“The delivery went smoothly,” she smiled shyly, and everyone in the room exhaled a shared sigh of relief, “You’re welcome to visit now, just follow me.”

Everyone rose from their seats, Lucifer adjusting his appearance to look more presentable for you as he walked toward the nurse. Charlie turned to lace her fingers with Vaggie’s before following behind her dad.

“Maybe I should stay back, I don’t do well with kids…” Husk started, still leaning back in his seat.

“Don’t be a pussy, pussy cat,” Angel teased, not looking backward as he joined the rest of the group by the door.

Husk growled softly, before lifting himself from the chair with a huff and exiting out of the door, his feathered tail swishing with anticipation as he crossed the hall and stood with the others at the last doorway on the end.

‘Shh, The Baby Is Sleeping!’ sign was hanging against its frame, before the nurse knocked on the door softly and turned back to the groups

“Whenever you’re ready,” the nurse hummed, before backpedaling and pivoting on her heel to check in on another room nearby.

Lucifer stood frozen in place, one hand reaching for the door handle as he hesitated. Eyes stared expectantly at their king, who only backed up from the room and allowed Charlie to take the lead.

“I think it would be best if you go first, I’m sure she’s anxious to see you all safe and sound,” Lucifer said with a nervous grin, taking a step backward and slipping past the figures of your friends.

Charlie only stared at him with a curious expression, as if she was going to argue with her father, before turning back to the door and slowly turning the handle to reveal the room inside.

“Hi, everyone” he heard you greet them tiredly from the other side of the room before they responded with a mixture of soft words for the new mother.

Lucifer couldn’t see past the looming bodies of the demons in front of him, and that gave him time to pull out a thin, delicate object from his coat and turn it between his fingers in thought. His mind racing with what he could possibly say to you in a moment like this.

“How are you doing?” Charlie asked as the small group of friends filed into the room.

“Much better now that you’re here,” you replied with a small, relieved laugh, “Although, I did expect Sir. Pentious to join, too.”

Radio silence, not a peep from anyone. How were they supposed to tell you that your baking buddy had sacrificed himself for all his friends? It was such a happy moment for you, they couldn’t dare ruin

“Yeah, bummer…” Angel Dust murmured quietly, rubbing his arm awkwardly as everyone else tried to keep their lips from curving downward and find a topic to change to.

Then, the king heard Charlie gasp softly, her head turning to another obscured side of the room. The rest of the group turned their heads to follow their gaze, eyes widening at the sight.

“Is that…?” She whispered in excitement.

“Yes, would you like to meet my daughter?”

Lucifer’s heart fluttered at that. Daughter. You had delivered a healthy baby girl, and he was not going to wait around a moment longer to congratulate you.

Finally, the king inhaled a deep, reassuring breath before he strode forward and stepped into the dimly lit room. The crowd parted, revealing your relaxed form on the bed across from him. Lucifer finally met your siren-like gaze and your lips curved into a delighted smile.

“Lucifer,” you sighed happily, eyes drinking in the fallen angel’s perfect figure.

“Glad to lose some of that water weight?” He teased with that signature charming grin, taking a few steps closer to your bed.

Across the room, was a transparent bassinet nestled in the darkest area of the large space. Every demon in the room had their attention on the bundle of blankets lying still inside.

Slowly, Charlie scooted closer and closer to the cradle, before she leaned over with a smile. She stared in awe at the tiny figure sleeping soundly, before turning her head to meet your gaze.

“I trust you, Charlie,” you smiled softly at the wide-eyed woman, “You can take her if you want, just be careful.”

With a joyous smile, the princess turned back to look down at the little bundle of joy, before reaching down and carefully lifting the baby out of the bassinet.

She looked just like you, all cozy wrapped up in the thick blankets around her small body as Charlie held her tight, slowly lowering into a cushioned chair near the shaded windows of the room. The rest of the attendees in the room—save for Lucifer, who couldn’t take his eyes off you—gazed at your twin with adoration. Even Husk wanted a peak, nose twitching as he got a good look at the child with interest.

“Look at her nose! It’s so tiny and adorable!” Charlie whispered and Vaggie leaned over the chair to get a closer look.

You watched the small group huddle around your daughter, their gazes tender as they fawned over the sleeping child. Smiling softly, you turn your head to see Lucifer coming closer, his arm leaning against your bed's railing as he lifts a mesmerizing flower into view.

It was a beautiful red rose. Not the hellish roses that rarely grew around the outskirts of Pentagram City, but the classic Earthly version, which you recognized from one of Angel’s descriptions of life in the living realm.

“I hope everything wasn’t too difficult,” Lucifer responded to your surprised stare at his gift.

There were no thorns present, designed specifically by pale hands just for you to enjoy without the fear of pain. Reaching an arm forward, you took the flower gently from Lucifer’s hold, your fingers brushing softly against his as you lifted it to your nose and inhaled a deep breath.

The scent of the rose made your lips curve into a soft grin, as you met Lucifer's gaze again.

“Thank you, it’s so pretty,”

“Not in comparison to you,” he replied without hesitation.

You sent him a doubtful quirk of a brow. Having just delivered a baby, you weren’t exactly runway-ready, but Lucifer didn’t seem to care as he stared at you softly.

Charlie walked forward, interrupting the tender moment as she offered your daughter for you to hold once more. Lucifer finally got a glimpse of your child as he stilled, eyes lighting with interest as he traced the familiar lines on their little features that mirrored so closely to your own.

He hitched a breath, right as you leaned forward and pulled your daughter into your grasp, pulling her flush against your chest.

Pivoting slightly to face Lucifer, you beckoned the pale face closer to greet the new addition. Slowly, he sidled closer, leaning forward as his eyes traced over the tiny being all bundled up.

“Hi there,” he spoke quietly to the child, whose features mimicked yours almost to the T. It was definitely your baby, and that only made Lucifer sigh with fondness as he lifted a tentative figure toward the bundle.

His claw delicately grazed against plump, soft cheeks which earned him an adorable coo from your daughter, and that only made the king’s lip wobble more.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Lucifer whispered, gently caressing the baby’s cheek as you watched with a warm smile.

Then, the king lifted his head to meet your gaze, tears in his eyes as he stared at you affectionately. You had to stop yourself from rising from the bed and comforting him.

“Sorry,” he rubbed away the wet trails on his cheeks, “Moments like these get me pretty emotional.”

Slowly, you reached a free hand towards Lucifer’s, lacing your fingers with his comfortingly as you laughed softly, tugging him farther past the railings of your bed. Your daughter was nestled against your chest, her warm cheek pressed against your skin only made your smile curve wider.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help, or anyone else’s here. I’m glad I had that kind of support all these months.”

“Don’t worry, mama” he tenderly lifted your hand, placing his lips to your knuckles for a few moments, drinking in your scent that always had him dizzy for more, “We’ll keep that streak going for a long, long time.”

Tears began to well up in your own eyes, as they traveled over to the smiling faces watching you and your baby with fondness. Had you known this is what your life would have looked like all those months ago, you wouldn’t have been so anxious about the future.

Finally, you weren’t so alone anymore. Not with Lucifer, and the obvious care he held for your daughter already, promising you a comfortable life.

Perhaps, happy days in Hell really did exist.

holy shit guys i basically wrote y’all a novella about a baby-loving king wtffff somebody take my laptop away before i do it again 😏

Let me know what you think <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #luci loves babies #obviously #don’t mind some of my cartoon logic #it’s part of the fun 😉#tons of hazbin crew love

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evansbby · 4 months

Text

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, dd/lg vibes, choking, spanking, anal play, fingering, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You never thought you'd be stuck between two beefy basketball players who have it out for each other - but which one do you choose?

𝐀/𝐍: This is part 3 of my fic, Wicked Games. I'm literally so nervous about posting this. This is 21k words long. I hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes!

“I told you, Wanda. I barely remember anything from last night,” you say, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you manoeuvre the vacuum cleaner around your room. You’d woken up feeling like shit – hungover and with a terrible headache to boot. But a warm shower and some skincare later, you’d decided to do some chores in order to clear your mind. “I do remember you ditching me though.”

“I didn’t ditch you!” Wanda screeches from the other end of the line, and you wrinkle your nose, holding the phone away from your ear before she speaks again. “Curtis told me you’d left, and then he took me back to his place! I left you a message and everything, but maybe it didn’t send because the service was so shitty.”

You hadn’t received her message until you got home last night, along with about a dozen more from Ari which you also still hadn’t looked at, let alone responded to.

“Wait, you went home with Curtis?”

Wanda giggles, “Yeah. I didn’t think someone as popular as him would ever be interested in me but he was! And he was so good, and gentle too, and–”

You stay quiet, letting her gush on and on about her magical night with the basketball player, ooh-ing and aah-ing and gasping at all the right places. The truth was, the moment she’d mentioned Curtis’ name, the memory of him cornering you on the dancefloor and giving you drink after drink had all come back to you. How he’d offered to take you upstairs before Ari had interrupted… Oh, but what did that matter? It’s not like you didn’t already have your hands full with a basketball player of your own…

“So, what about you?” Wanda finally asks, “Do you really not remember anything?”

You inhale deeply, “I remember talking to Ari.”

No. You remembered more than that. You remembered the thumping music, the flashing lights, the crowd surging around you. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck. His words in your ear. How he’d fucked you right there in front of everyone… All of that had come back to you in the shower this morning, but you’d been trying not to think about it ever since. All you could really do was persuade yourself that it was too dark and crowded for anyone to have seen that.

“Ew. Not that two-timer. Please tell me you didn’t fold.”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you bite your lip, “We hooked up.” You weren’t going to delve into the details of where you’d hooked up with him, though.

“OH MY GOD, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!” Wanda screeches again, and you press your lips together. It was a valid question, but you just weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You ditched me and went home with Curtis. Please spare me the lecture, Wanda.”

She’s silent for a handful of seconds, “Okay fine. But how did you get home? Did Ari give you a lift?”

You frown, “He must have. I don’t really remember–”

At that moment, your eyes land on a blue and white varsity jacket draped over your desk chair, and your heart jolts all the way up to the roof of your mouth. Wanda’s voice prattles on, but the phone falls slightly from your hand.

Steve. You’d met a guy called Steve last night. It was slowly coming back to you now. How Ari had broken your heart in that bathroom, how you’d felt so alone and heartbroken the rest of the night. Blurred bits and pieces slowly join together like a jigsaw puzzle in your mind… Steve had found you, and you’d talked to him. And then…? Ari and Steve had faced off, and you’d chosen to leave with Steve…

You couldn’t remember anything after that. But surely Steve had called a cab and dropped you home, right? You had no recollection of what happened in the cab, however. You just have a vague memory of feeling cold and Steve giving you his jacket while you were both in the backseat. But that was the gentlemanly thing to do, as was dropping you home after the terrible night you’d had thanks to Ari.

“Hello? You still there??”

You blink, pressing the phone back against your ear, “Uh, yeah, I’m here. I don’t know what happened after that, but I got home safely so I guess that’s a win, right?”

Wanda agrees, before launching into a detailed account of how Curtis had let her sleep over and he’d even gotten her coffee in the morning after allowing her to sleep in. You sit there, half listening and half staring at Steve’s varsity jacket on your chair. Inexplicably, your fingers itch to touch the soft material, to hold it against your nose and see if you can detect a scent to try and remember more of what had happened last night. You have a vague memory of how heavy and secure it felt around your shoulders, but you can’t recall anything else no matter how hard you try.

A distinct rattling against your doorknob distracts you momentarily, and before you know what’s happening, your door flies open, and Ari appears. The spare key you’d given him clenched tightly in his fist, and a scowl on his handsome face.

“Why the fuck have you been ignoring my messages?” He snarls.

Seeing him now, seeing his devastatingly handsome face, his hair which is slightly wet at the ends, as if he just showered. His grey tank that clung to his body and showed off those incredible, tanned biceps. Oh God, seeing him now just makes you feel all weird, hurt and angry and helpless and yet so attracted to him all in one. And you wonder if all these conflicting emotions show on your own face as you stare him down.

You sniff in what you hope is a dismissive way, “I’m on the phone with Wanda right now.”

It takes him two seconds to cross the room, snatching the phone from your hands before speaking into it gruffly: “Fuck off, Carla.” He hangs up while you gape at him in shock and annoyance, before throwing your phone to the other end of your bed. “Answer me. I won’t repeat myself.”

He’d been messaging you nonstop all night and even this morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Not after how much he’d hurt you last night in the bathroom.

“Why would I reply to your messages when I have nothing left to say to you?” You say, priding yourself on keeping your voice level and calm.

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair like he usually does when he feels insulted or frustrated, “Watch your tone. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s been worried sick about you since you let that asshole abduct you last night.”

Your jaw drops open, “Worried sick? Are you for real, Ari? You weren’t worried sick when you left me in that bathroom even after I begged you to stay with me.”

Ari blinks, crossing his arms over his chest, “You remember that?”

You side-step your vacuum and square up to him (as well as you could possible square up to someone who is almost double your height). “I remember how heartbroken I felt, how hopeless and drunk I was. And you… you didn’t even care! Not even a little bit…” Your voice breaks, and you hate it and you wish you were stronger but you feel your shoulders crumple and your eyes well with tears.

“Aww, baby…” Ari’s strong arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his solid chest. And he smells so good, like fresh soap and aftershave, and his embrace is so familiar, so safe, and you hate him for that. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate it when you cry. Look, I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to. Sharon was making a scene and multiple people were looking for me.”

At the mention of her name, you push him away immediately and take a few steps backwards to create some distance between the two of you. No, you wouldn’t let him sweet-talk you this time, you wouldn’t fall victim to his manipulations. You were going to stand your ground.

“Don’t, okay? You don’t need to make all these excuses because you basically laid it all out on the table last night, Ari. I remember everything.”

“Baby, listen–”

“No, you listen! You strung me along for weeks, telling me you’d make me your girlfriend one day. I told you I’d do anything for you. I let you fuck me wherever, however you wanted! I begged you to stay, but you told me you already had a girlfriend, and now I know that if it came down to it, you’d always pick her over me. So, I’m done.”

You swallow back your tears and stand with your head held high, heart pounding at everything you’ve just said. But you also feel exhilarated, liberated because you’ve never voiced your thoughts to him like this before. And he just stands there, eyes narrowed as he stares you down and yet he says nothing, and you wonder if you’ve finally rendered someone like him speechless.

With triumph, you turn on your heel, walking past him and into your bathroom. You have nothing to do in there but you busy yourself with rearranging your lotions and creams, determined to ignore him until he leaves.

“I could take you out tonight,” he calls from the bedroom, “Like a real date. We could go to one of those Italian restaurants downtown. And we could stay at a hotel after that, I can easily get us a penthouse suite at the Hilton, I know you’d like that.”

You would like that. In fact, your heart lurches in excitement. A romantic, public date with Ari? Oh, that would be incredible! But your happiness is short-lived when you realise that none of it meant anything if he was still with Sharon. That meant this date would probably take place in the shadows of the night, with him on edge over someone spotting the two of you together. And you refused to be his second-choice, his dirty little secret, any longer.

“I’m not interested, Ari,” you mutter, pretending to read the label of your shampoo bottle. A minute passes before you look up, disappointed when he doesn’t answer. Had he left? Oh, you were hoping he would’ve stayed longer and grovelled a bit more. Or even grovelled at all because he still hadn’t apologised. You resist the urge to call his name as you stare hard at your shampoo bottle, so hard that the label blurs. Still nothing. You sigh before leaving the bathroom, heart sinking that he left.

But Ari’s still there, standing in the middle of your room. Deathly still, and in his hands is Steve’s blue and white varsity jacket. Shit. You’d completely forgotten it was there.

“This is his.” Ari says softly.

You don’t say anything.

His blue eyes meet yours, narrowed and accusatory, his jaw tense with contained anger. He holds the jacket up as if it’s a piece of damning evidence in a murder case, and you’re the convict on trial. You see a glimmer of betrayal on his face, and his lips press into a thin line.

“Why is this here?”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. It’s like his demeanour has completely changed in the past thirty seconds. You’d never seen him so calmly angry before. It’s almost eery.

“I asked you a question.”

You chew on your lower lip, “I-I was feeling cold, so he–”

Again, he closes the gap between you with just two long strides. But this time, he pushes you against the wall, his hand going around your throat and giving you the strangest sense of dejavu.

“Was he in here? Did you let him fuck you?”

He shakes you when you don’t answer, and his fingers squeeze your throat threateningly.

“No, okay!” You say, feeling your windpipes close. Of course, you and Steve hadn’t slept together – all he’d done was give you a ride home, right??

“Did you let him touch you? Did you!?” He shakes you again, “Did you hook up with him? Tell me the fucking truth.”

“NO! Get the fuck off me!” You cry, pushing at him feebly.

“Do you remember everything? Tell me right fucking now, because if you don’t remember then that means that asshole took advantage of you while you were drunk.”

“I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, OKAY?!” You lie, “Nothing happened. H-He gave me his jacket because I felt cold, then he dropped me home. Nothing else happened, just let me go!”

Ari does let your throat go, but his menacing eyes never leave yours. You’ve never seen him so… affected before. He was always so cool, collected, so nonchalant… but right now, he almost looks frenzied. The sneer never leaves his face as his hand slips up to grab your jaw instead.

“Are you sure?” His every word is enunciated slowly, in a frighteningly level manner as he stares you down. “You better be fucking sure, because I know guys like him. He’s a fucking slimeball who would’ve been happy to touch you even if you were unconscious.”

Your heart sinks at that, but you know Ari’s just speaking out of anger. Steve had been so sweet, and he’d never do that. You were sure of it…

“All he did was give me a lift home!” You try to wiggle out of Ari’s grip but he holds you firmly against the wall, his huge body pinning you flat against it similar to how he had last night when he’d fucked you. Out of nowhere, a wave of anger surges through you, the memory of him using you and disposing of you flashing through your mind once again. And now he had the audacity to get mad at you for going home with someone else? The next words out of your mouth are spiteful:

“But it wouldn’t be a problem if I did hook up with Steve, would it? I mean, it’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

Quick as a wink, Ari flips you around, till your cheek is rammed up against the cold wall, and you can practically hear the angry rumble from his throat. He roughly yanks your shorts down your legs, along with your panties too. You struggle against him, but your protests die as his palm cracks down on your bare ass hard.

“Don’t you fucking even think about that.” Ari hisses, smacking your ass four times in quick succession.

“Stop!” You squeal, pushing back against him but he’s too big and strong, “Stop, you jerk! It hurts!”

“Don’t you ever even entertain the idea of hooking up with someone else.” Ari growls in your ear, his unforgiving hand raining slaps down on your poor, ass which already feels raw, “You’re mine. I own your whole fucking body and nobody else can touch you. Say it.”

You sob in pain, fighting against him, “No! You don’t respect me, you don’t–”

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he says through clenched teeth. Roughly, he pulls your pyjama shorts down, and your panties are quick to follow. His palm collides with your ass over and over again, alternating between your two bare cheeks with unforgiving slaps whilst ignoring your cries of protest. “I had you first. That means you’re mine, and he can’t have you. No one can have you unless I fucking say so.”

Your eyes widen, his words chilling you down to the bone. Never before has Ari ever sounded so serious, so scary. You swallow harshly, before gasping when he pinches your ass meanly. It hurts, you feel like your ass is on fire as he resumes slapping it over and over again. His other hand holds you tightly by the hip to keep you in place – otherwise, with the force of his smacks, you’d have gone flying across the room.

“Stop it, Ari! Fucking stop it!” You beg, trying to keep resilient despite the fact that your backside is stinging so bad. The last thing you want to do right now is start crying and fall into a submissive stupor that has you begging for his forgiveness and approval. And you know that very well could happen, because that’s what’s always happened in the past when he’s punished you.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“No! Fuck you!” You weren’t gonna give in to him. Not this time.

You squeal when his hand presses against your lower back, bending you over slightly. He spreads your glowing ass cheeks, swiping his finger up your slit. You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear him smirk at your wetness. Your body can’t help but respond to his touch… but it’s your mind and willpower that you need to keep strong right now.

“You won’t say it, huh? What, you decided to develop a mind of your own overnight?” He gathers your wetness on his finger, steering clear of your clit completely as his finger moves upwards instead. You clench involuntarily when you feel his digit probe your asshole, “I make all your decisions, you got that, sweetheart? I own you. I decide what you do, who you talk to, all of that shit.”

Oh, how was he so possessive over you when he couldn’t even call you his girlfriend? You just couldn’t understand him…

He forces his pointer finger into your asshole, making you scream out loud at the intrusion. He’s fingered your ass before, but never as roughly as now. You bite down on your lower lip – you’ve already screamed once but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing it again. His other hand leaves your hip to grab your hair, pulling your head back.

“Say you’re mine, or I’ll add another finger.”

“How can I be yours when you’re the one who doesn’t want me to be your girlfriend!?”

Ari scowls, and yet he doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to spank your ass. And his finger continues to pump in and out of you, and you find yourself biting your lip now to suppress your moans.

There was just something so carnal, so raw, about him finger-fucking your ass. He was stoic and angry right now, but in the past Ari would always tell you how obsessed he was with your butt. How cute and round it was, how it drove him crazy when you bent down in your cute little skirts. How you had the type of ass that was always just begging for a smack. And he’d always find reasons to “punish” you, insisting on spanking you for the smallest of offences. He’d told you that he loved how needy you got when he spanked you, and how he knew it got you horny when he fingered your butt.

But right now, it seemed like Ari was more fuelled by anger and jealousy than lust. And a part of you, despite everything, the neediest and most insecure part of you is happy that he’s so jealous. That he’s so affected by the prospect of you getting with Steve. And yet… Yet it clearly isn’t enough to get him to leave Sharon for you…

“I own you.” He grunts in your ear, “I don’t fucking care if you say it or not. But you’re not gonna speak to Steve Rogers again. Do I make myself clear?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, probably because he knows you won’t right now. There’s a shift in energy, you both can feel it. You know he can sense your mind fighting against him harder than ever before. It’s in the way you keep your mouth clamped shut, despite inwardly wanting to moan in pleasure.

Ari slips his hand down your front, cupping your mound as he continues to finger your butt with his other hand. You suppress another gasp, fighting the urge to press against his palm. You hear him smirk again from behind you, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. You exhale loudly, thrill shooting straight down to your core.

“Don’t think I give a fuck about you giving me the silent treatment,” he says into your ear, “Daddy can still make you cum harder than anyone else ever could, and you’ll cry like a fucking baby while you do it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and you clench hard. Your hips move on their own accord, thrusting forward to hump straight into his hand before you still them. But it feels so sinfully good, your clit rubbing against the hard heel of his palm. And it doesn’t help that he knows exactly how to move his hand against your bundle of nerves, circling and pressing and rubbing at you.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“There she is,” Ari murmurs cockily, “There’s my girl. I guess the little baby didn’t lose her voice after all…”

“I mean, fuck you.”

He snorts, rapidly pressing his finger in and out of your puckered hole with such force that he rocks you forward, making your pussy press deliciously against his hand.

“You’ll listen to me,” he says beguilingly, licking the shell of your ear, “you’ll do exactly what I say. I don’t care if you want to throw a tantrum right now and act out and pretend you don’t want me anymore. I own your pussy, and I decide when we’re done. Not you. Me.”

You drop your head in shame, the pleasure in your tummy making you almost dizzy. Your body sags, surrendering to him physically as he mauls you. The tight walls of your ass swallow his finger up each time he thrusts into you with it, the force jolting you forward, making you dry hump his hand. Your ass burns and yet it feels so sexy, and you know you’re losing yourself; you know you’re losing the battle…

“Say it. Say who’s making you feel this good,” Ari breathes, rubbing your clit sensually, coaxing you to rut against his hand, to chase your pleasure while he dangles it in front of you like a carrot. “Nobody else will ever make you feel like this, you got that? Just me. So, say it.”

“Ari,” his name falls past your lips in a choked whisper, and you scrunch your eyes shut as you cum violently. You spasm in his arms, pussy walls clenching and releasing over and over again as you squirt all over his hand.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, holding you up because your legs feel like jelly, and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. “It’s okay, you can be mad at daddy all you want. But I know what’s best for you, and I lo–” He pauses, clearing his throat and pressing his lips down on your neck, kissing and licking at your skin, “I own you, you got that?”

You don’t answer, and he walks backwards with you in his arms. He lays you down on the bed before making a show of licking your cream off his fingers. You lie there, watching him and trying to catch your breath. Coming down from that orgasmic high, a dark feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach. You’d let him get to you…again.

“We’ll go out tonight,” Ari announces, “I’ll pick you up around nine, and we’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“No.”

His eyes narrow, “What?”

It takes you a second to gather up your strength to sit up. Your orgasm has weakened you – or maybe it’s the emotional weight of what you’re about to say next.

“I said no, Ari. I don’t want to go out with you.”

He blinks, but doesn’t say anything. You take that as your cue to continue.

“I’m done, okay? I’m serious this time. I don’t wanna be with you if you’re still with her.” You suck in your breath, looking somewhere beyond his shoulder because it’s too intimidating to meet his gaze. “I don’t wanna go on a date that starts at nine in the evening when it’s pitch-black outside, just because you can’t risk being seen with me. I deserve better than that.”

Ari crosses his arms over his chest, regarding you carefully and yet he still doesn’t say anything.

“A-And I deserved better last night. I didn’t deserve to be left alone in that bathroom. I was high, and drunk, and I begged you to stay with me,” you bow your head, “I-I deserve someone who isn’t embarrassed of being with me in public, Ari.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you, I just can’t–”

“You can’t risk it, I know. You have a girlfriend. And I wish to God it was me, but it’s not. So, I’m done trying to persuade you.”

He scoffs, “You don’t mean that. You’re just in a mood, but you’ll come crawling back to me the moment you start feeling needy again.”

You shake your head sadly, “Think whatever you want to think, Ari. I’m done.”

Sighing lowly, you keep your head bowed as you pick at a loose thread on your quilt. You can’t bare to look at him, because a part of you knows that looking at him would make you melt and then he’d have you back eating out of the palm of his hand. But you were done this time, you were so exponentially done, and–

“Listen to me,” In a flash, Ari grips your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Forcing you to look into his menacing eyes that flash with indignation and anger. “If you end this now, then that’s it. We’re done. I won’t ever speak to you again.”

Your heart jolts, stunned by his harsh words. But that was what you’d decided you’d wanted, right? For you and him to be done? Or had you wanted him to grovel, apologise, break up with Sharon and shack up with you? Nevertheless, you try to remain strong.

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m serious. I know you think this is some kind of game and you’re playing hard to get, but I swear to God, I will leave this room and never even look at you again. Is that what you fucking want?”

His face is inches from yours, and you try to read his eyes. Try to understand him on any level, try to detect if there’s an inkling of care behind those eyes, even an iota of love or adoration for you. A desperation to stay with you, be with you. But you can’t. His face is unreadable, like a mask. And so a lone tear breaks free and meanders down your cheek, and you speak in a broken whisper:

“Maybe it’s for the best…”

He backs away as if you’ve stung him, or flung a vial of poison right in his face. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, chest rising and falling with each breath as he glares daggers at you. And a large part of you just wants to take it all back, to jump into his arms and burst out crying like you always do, and he’d make you feel better for the night and then leave before you woke up tomorrow. No, you had to stay strong.

Easily, like he’s slipping on that damned mask once more, Ari’s features morph from anger to nonchalance, and he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Fine. Then we’re done.”

“Fine.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something else before thinking better of it. Instead, he turns and leaves without a second glance back at you, his fists balled up at his sides.

It’s only when he’s gone, and the door slams shut with a crushing finality, that you allow yourself to burst into tears. Loud, wracking, sobbing tears, and one word falls past your lips in a choked whisper:

“Bye.”

***

Heartbreak felt strange. For one thing, it was constant. You missed Ari all the time in the days that followed. You thought it would get easier after a few days, but two weeks later and you still felt like your heart had been sawed in half. And every time you’d see him on campus, your heart would jolt.

In the past, he’d always smile at you or give you a wink – even if he was with his girlfriend. Now? You may as well have been invisible for all he cared. He never looked at you, or whenever his eyes did glance in your direction, it was like he’d see right through you or over your head. You didn’t exist to him anymore. And it hurt.

But isn’t this what you had wanted?

Well, yes. And yet, you can’t fathom how it’s actually happened. A large part of you had expected him to come crawling back to you like how he had last time. You’d expected your phone to blow up with texts and calls from him, expected him to show up at your door at midnight for a booty call, even. But nope. Radio silence. You and Ari were well and truly done and he’d moved on.

And often, when you were getting ready in the morning, your gaze would fall on the blue and white varsity jacket still draped on your chair and wonder if it was time for you to move on to someone else too…

But Ari still plagued your mind, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to contact Steve or even if you wanted to. After all, all he’d done was give you a ride home when you were messy drunk and probably at your most unattractive. He probably wasn’t even interested in you like that…

“Oh my Gosh, Curtis is coming this way. Do I look okay? Do I need to powder my nose again?” Wanda hisses at you. The two of you are sat on one of the wooden tables in the campus courtyard. She quickly grabs your compact, not waiting for you to answer as she scrutinises her reflection in the tiny mirror.

Oh, right. Another important advancement in the past two weeks: Wanda and Curtis were now a thing. Which made it even harder to avoid Ari, who was Curtis’ best friend. Even now, as you look beyond Wanda’s shoulder, you can see Curtis walking towards her with Ari right next to him. To your relief, Ari hangs back, getting his phone out instead.

“Hey, babe.” Curtis pulls up behind Wanda, wrapping his arms around her while she throws your compact back at you so she can squeeze his bicep. It hits you in the face and you huff to yourself as you put it away, pointedly trying not to look at the two of them while they start to make out. Watching them be a happy couple especially stung seeing as your own “relationship” had ended in such a disaster.

Looking beyond them proves to be a mistake, however. Ari’s now been joined by Sharon, and the two of them are also wrapped up in a kiss. God, what was with everyone? You scowl and look down at your lap.

“What’s wrong with your friend, sweetie?” Curtis asks Wanda, his voice dripping with smug amusement. You almost scoff out loud at the use of “your friend,” as if this man hadn’t been flirting with you the night of the party two weeks ago. You still haven’t mentioned that to Wanda – not when she’s so happy with him now.

“Oh, nothing. She’s always moody nowadays.” Wanda says flippantly, pulling him down to sit on the bench next to her as the two of them continue to kiss obnoxiously. The buzzcut-haired man squarely grabs her breast and gives it a squeeze – right out in the open! But Wanda only giggles, letting him pull her into his lap and feel her up as their make-out session takes a quick, R-rated turn.

“That’s my cue to leave,” you mutter to yourself, gathering your books and standing up. The happy couple doesn’t even glance your way or even acknowledge you’ve said anything. You sigh, wondering whether this was what the rest of your college experience would be like. You’d had your fun at the start of the year and now you were doomed to be the third wheel to these two…

“Oh my gosh, you’re the girl from that party, aren’t you?”

A high-pitched voice knocks you out of your hole of self-pity, and you almost run smack into… Sharon. She’s standing by your wooden table now, hand in hand with Ari, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“H-Huh?” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. You’ve never spoken to Sharon before – and how could you? How could you even look her in the eye after you’d spent weeks and weeks sleeping with her boyfriend?

“You’re the girl from the party,” Sharon repeats, elegantly raising her voice over the obscene making out sounds coming from Curtis and Wanda. “I was pretty drunk but I remember you! You were in that gorgeous red dress, right?”

Your heart’s racing, and you wish you could disappear. Instead, you nod and force a smile.

“Yeah, that was me. Hi.”

“I thought so! You have to tell me where you got that dress, girl! I honestly couldn’t stop talking about it. I mean, just ask my boyfriend!” She nudges Ari, who is trying his best to appear nonchalant, ignoring her as he texts someone on his phone. Sharon rolls her eyes before continuing, “I was totally off my face drunk, but if I remember anything, it’s that dress.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile. “I was pretty drunk too. And the dress is from this website called White Fox Boutique. Look, I have to go–”

“Did you get home okay?” Sharon interrupts, her face morphing into a look of concern. And God, you hate how kind she’s being. It would have been easier to swallow the fact that you’d slept with her boyfriend had she been a bitch. Not a ray of literal sunshine who was so pretty to boot – with messy blonde hair cascading down her back in perfect waves, and the sparkliest blue eyes. No wonder Ari had chosen her – she was absolutely stunning, and even more so up close.

“Yes, I got a lift home–”

“Oh, that’s right! You were with Steve Rogers, that guy from St. Jude’s!” Sharon says excitedly, clasping her manicured hands together before grabbing Ari’s bicep, “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend now. Although it’s a good thing we both had our boyfriends there that night to get us home safely.”

Ari snorts, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation: “He’s not her boyfriend.”

“Um, okay. And how would you know that, babe?” Sharon smiles sweetly up at him.

The brunet freezes, glancing at you for a nanosecond before he clears his throat. “That guy couldn’t hold down a girl if his life depended on it. He’s too volatile.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. He has this weird rivalry thing with Steve Rogers. They’re both basketball players, you see.”

You nod, trying to pretend like this is all new information to you. “Uh, right. Well, Steve isn’t my boyfriend, actually. I only met him that night and he was kind enough to give me a lift home. Speaking of home, I gotta g–”

“You and Steve would make a cute couple,” Sharon muses, “you guys looked good together that night.”

You smile awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other and not knowing what to say. She clearly had an excellent memory of that night considering she was off her face drunk for the majority of it.

You hear Ari huff while you’re wracking your brain for an excuse to leave. Sneaking a glance at him, you find him frowning, his hands curled up into fists by his side. Oh, he was affected! Did that mean he still cared? A lightbulb goes off in your head…

“M-Maybe I will go out with Steve. We’ve been texting a lot since that night.” Your voice comes out shaky, the lie feeling foreign on your tongue.

Ari glares daggers at you, “That’s a bad idea.”

Sharon slaps his chest lightly, “Don’t be rude! I think that’s a fabulous idea!”

The brunet bristles and looks down at his girlfriend with an annoyed look on his face, “Don’t you have a class you need to be getting to?”

“I do but–”

“Go.”

Your eyes widen at his gruff tone, and you’re even more surprised when Sharon nods at his command. What was it about Ari that made every girl around him bow down to his authority so easily? You’d been guilty of it too in the past…

“Okay, grumpy-pants,” she says easily before turning to you, “it was nice meeting you! I’m Sharon, by the way.”

You tell her your name.

“Cool, I’ll find you on Instagram. You can text me the details of your dress there!” She says happily, and all you can do is nod while Ari continues staring at you with a steely expression on his face. Clearly, he was bothered by the idea of you and Steve texting! So what if it wasn’t even true?

You stare back at him defiantly, finally feeling like you’ve gained the upper hand in the two weeks since you two have been apart.

In response, Ari narrows his eyes, grabbing Sharon as she’s about to walk away. Your heart drops when he kisses her right in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as his lips move against hers. You feel your face grow hot, then cold, then hot again, heart feeling like someone’s shredding it into pieces. How could he? Your eyes well with tears, but you fight to keep them at bay because you can’t cry here, not in front of everyone.

He continues making out with her, being as obscene as possible as his eyes lock with yours, and you just stand there, frozen and gormless, not even able to look away. Finally, after what feels like ten years, they break apart. Sharon giggles, and Ari slaps her ass before sending her on her way. You wish you could gouge your eyes out.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter lowly once Sharon is out of earshot.

“And you’re a liar.”

“What?”

Ari steps closer to you, “I can always tell when you’re lying. You’re not texting Steve.”

You roll your eyes before pushing past him, “It’s none of your business anyways.”

Curtis – you’d forgotten he was even there – breaks a kiss with Wanda to grin up at you. “Don’t mind Ari, he’s just been extremely crabby lately. Not getting laid does that to people.” He goes in for another kiss, adding against Wanda’s lips, “Same can’t be said about you and me, huh, sweetheart?”

Ugh.

“Wanda, I’m leaving. Are you coming?” You ask, doing your best to ignore the two basketball players.

“What? Uh, no, I’m busy,” your friend answers distractedly before Curtis pulls her back in for another kiss.

“You’ll stay away from Steve if you know what’s best for you.” Ari says quietly.

Great. Was he seriously threatening you now?

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you raise your chin up at him defiantly once more.

Ari scowls, running a hand through his hair. You know him well enough to know that he does that when he’s frustrated. “Look, I’m being serious. It’s for your own good–”

“Why do you even care? I thought we were done, Ari.”

“We are done.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, okay!? I’ll date whoever I want to date.”

“Not him.”

“Yes, him.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“We’ll vacate this bench if you two need the space to fuck.” Curtis offers jokingly, but both of you ignore him as you stare each other down.

Finally, you huff, attempting to sidestep him but he’s way too big and easily blocks your path. A second attempt, and he blocks you again – and this time he has the audacity to smirk amusedly. That boils your blood, and you glare up at him. How dare he try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date? When he just made out with Sharon five inches away from your face not even two minutes ago!?

“Just listen to me for once,” Ari grabs your wrist but you’re quick to tug it back. His scowl deepens, but he doesn’t grab you again, “Steve is bad news. He–”

“He can’t be any worse than the guys I already do know.” You cut him off pointedly before turning around and walking away without a second glance.

***

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here.”

You’re all too familiar with the university’s basketball court – you used to come here all the time to watch Ari play. That didn’t mean you wanted to be here now. In fact, it was the last place you wanted to be, and you’d told Wanda that several times but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Curtis is playing, and as his girlfriend, I need to be there for moral support.”

You wrinkle your nose; she’d only been going out with Curtis for a few weeks now and yet she was running around acting like Curtis was the president and she was the first lady or something. She didn’t really have any time to be your best friend anymore. You and Wanda had bonded at the start of the academic year – doing everything from attending society meetings together to having movie nights and sleep overs.

But now, it was all “Curtis wants me to go to this new club with him,” and “Curtis says that it’s okay to bunk lectures once in a while!” and “Oh sorry, I can’t hang out tonight – Curtis’ schedule just got cleared up so he needs me to go to his room.” It made you wonder whether you’d been this insufferable too when you were with Ari.

“Moral support? Wanda, this isn’t even a proper game. It’s just a practice,” you remind her, “and anyways, I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s not like I’m dating Curtis.”

“Of course not, you’re not his type at all. I just couldn’t show up alone, that’s just sad,” says Wanda before she spies Curtis in the corner of the court with a few other teammates, all of them stretching and doing warm-ups. She waves at him like mad, blowing kisses in his direction. He shoots her a quick smile before turning around to talk to a nearby cheerleader.

You spot a familiar figure, tanned, tall and muscular with his long brown hair pushed back with one of those metal wire headbands that men wore, barking out a game plan to the rest of his team. Ari. You freeze.

“Wanda!” You hiss, tugging hard at her sleeve, “You said that Curtis told you that Ari was sick and wouldn’t be at practice today!”

Wanda blinks, “Oh. That was a lie.”

“What!?”

She shrugs, “Come on. I needed you here today and I knew there was no way you’d come if you knew Ari was here. Hey, does my lip gloss look okay, by the way? I’m gonna go say hi to Curtis.”

“Don’t leave me all by myself!”

Wanda rolls her eyes, tugging her arm out of your grasp, “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back anyways. In the meantime, just find us a good spot to sit. Somewhere close to the front where Curtis will be able to see me.”

And she’s gone before you know it. Great. The last thing you needed right now was Ari thinking you’d come here specifically to see him play. And with his big head – that’s exactly what he’d think. You contemplate just leaving – you could tell Wanda that you’d had a medical emergency or something. Or maybe you could just sit somewhere in the back or hide in the bleachers, and Ari would never have to know you were here. He was too busy ordering his team around, he hadn’t noticed you yet anyways, and maybe you could–

“Sweetheart, I was hoping I’d see you here.”

A warm hand grasps your waist, and your first reaction is to jump back and smack whoever’s touching you in such a forward way. But then you turn, being met by a sturdy chest covered by a blue and white St. Jude’s basketball jersey. Golden hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Angelic face.

“Steve!” You exclaim, before realising that you sound way too happy to see someone who is essentially still a stranger to you. You clear your throat, trying to sound more casual. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Our court is being renovated, so we got permission to practice here with your team.” He flashes you a bright smile, his hand still on your waist, his thumb stroking you from over your blouse. His eyes rake over you unabashedly, and you find yourself growing hot under his gaze. “This is a really pretty outfit you got on, sweetheart. Is it for anyone in particular?”

You were wearing a pink blouse and cardigan set, with a matching pink tennis skirt which had unfortunately shrunk in the washing machine. You’d still worn it though, promising yourself you wouldn’t make the mistake of bending over and giving everyone within close vicinity a good eyeful of your panties.

“Oh, uh, no, not for anyone in particular,” you babble. You feel nervous around him, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Thanks for getting me home safely that night, by the way. I, uh, I meant to thank you the next morning but I didn’t have your number or anything.”

Steve nods, shooting you a wink, “That’s alright, princess. I think it’s me who should be thanking you for that night.” His hand slips down to your hip, giving it a warm, meaningful squeeze.

You frown, “Why would you be thanking me? I didn’t do anything.” Your Uber ride home with Steve was still a blur to you, but you doubt anything eventful had happened during it. “Oh, don’t tell me I kept you entertained with all my drunken chatter. I’m sorry, I do that sometimes, and I was so embarrassingly drunk that night.”

He blinks, before a slow smile spreads across his face, “Baby girl, don’t you remember?”

“I remember me being a total embarrassment, and you being a total gentleman. You even gave me your jacket and I still have it now!” You say brightly, picturing his varsity jacket still hung up on your desk chair back in your dorm room. “I wanted to return it to you but you never called, or texted, or…” your eyes widen when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, not that I expected you to call me. I understand that all you did was give me a lift home. I’m not insinuating that you had to call me, or that you’re attracted to me–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve easily grabs your chin before his thumb brushes upwards over your lips, effectively shutting you up. His eyes are intense, and so close, his lashes fanning his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I am attracted to you.” He says squarely, before chuckling, “I thought that much was obvious. I should’ve gotten your number that night, baby girl, but you’d been drinking a lot.” His eyes glint as he licks his lips, “And I’d never take advantage of you when you were drunk.”

Oh, he was such a gentleman! Of course, he’d never take advantage of you while you were drunk! Unlike dumb, stupid Ari! As if on cue, you look beyond Steve’s shoulder, the tiniest part of you hoping that Ari’s watching this interaction between you and the blonde. But the brunet is busy warming up now, grunting as he does his push-ups in the corner of the gym, his tanned, muscular arms bulging. You almost bite your lip before focusing back on Steve.

“Give me your phone,” Steve says suddenly, and you’re obeying him before you’ve even registered what he’s asked. He smirks, taking it from you and typing his number in, saving it before handing it back to you. “You’ll text me tonight, won’t you?”

Was he asking you or was he telling you? Either way, you find yourself nodding.

His eyes bore into yours, “Say it, then. Say you’ll text me tonight.”

Oh, he was so intense! But you don’t seem to mind one bit. Again, you nod. “Y-Yes, Steve. I’ll text you tonight.”

He gives you a relaxed smile, “Good. We can discuss where I’ll take you on our first date.”

A thrill ripples through you. A date?! You’d never been on a date before! Oh wow, this was��

“Hey, you guys!”

Sharon’s bright voice echoes across the gym as she makes her way over towards the two of you. Sharon. Of course. Of course, she’d be here – she was a cheerleader. And she looked beautiful as she always did, with her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun, her cute cheerleading outfit accentuating all her curves perfectly. You’re hit with a sudden wave of insecurity – would Steve forget about you now that she was here? – but you try to keep it at bay.

The truth was, Sharon had requested you on Instagram a few days ago as she’d promised she would. And you’d had to follow her back, which was painful enough seeing as half of her pictures were her with Ari. But she was sweet when she texted you asking about where your red dress was from, and a few more mini-conversations and a bit of small talk later, clearly, she thought the two of you were friends.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sharon squeals, giving you a quick hug which you reciprocate whilst wondering why exactly she’s so happy to see you. She nods at Steve with a humorous twinkle in her eye, “And you’re Steve Rogers, aka Ari’s best friend in the whole world.”

Steve snorts, “Yep. That’s me.”

She giggles, looking from him to you and back to him again, “Let me guess. You guys are a couple now.”

You shake your head, “No, we–”

“–We are.” Steve cuts you off, winking at Sharon before wrapping his arm properly around your waist and pulling you into him. Your eyes widen, cheeks feeling hot. You weren’t at all used to public displays of affection like this, nor were you used to anyone being as forward as Steve was being right now. After all, this was only your second time meeting him- how was he already telling people you were together? And why weren’t you objecting to it?

Sharon clasps her hands together excitedly, “Yay! I told her you guys would make the cutest couple.”

Steve chuckles, and your eyes widen when his hand meanders downward. His palm settles on your ass, cupping it as he casually speaks to Sharon. She’s in front of you, so she can’t see it, but your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you feel his big, warm hand cup your ass through your tennis skirt, even giving it a squeeze.

“Careful, Sharon. You might get in trouble if your boyfriend sees you talking to me.” Steve jokes airily, as if he isn’t kneading your ass cheek at the same time. Your face is on fire, but you also feel your walls clench, turned on by the extra attention he’s giving you as he nonchalantly talks to someone else. It’s hot.

“Pfft, no way. Ari doesn’t care who I talk to, he’s not really the possessive type.”

“Interesting…” Steve murmurs softly, almost to himself.

“Look, there he is now,” Sharon waves across the court, “Hey, babe!”

You follow her gaze, watching Ari as he dribbles the basketball casually. Upon hearing her voice, he looks up. He’s got a disinterested look on his face as he nods in acknowledgement at Sharon, but then his eyes meet yours. And it’s like the whole world freezes over, and your body freezes and your blood freezes.

Ari’s face contorts from disinterest to shock as he drinks in you standing with Steve. You feel your chest tighten, as if your body can’t decide between feeling triumphant that you’re making Ari jealous, or upset that you’re making Ari jealous. Either way, you hear Steve smirk, and then he pulls you closer, giving your ass an even harder squeeze that has you yelping.

The shock on Ari’s face quickly morphs into hatred and disdain. He’s all the way across the court, and yet you can see his knuckles redden as he grips the ball so tightly you fear it may explode. A part of you wants to move away from Steve out of respect for Ari, but you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to. Steve’s grip is like iron around you, his palm glued to your ass as if he owns it.

Almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

You don’t know what to expect from Ari, but you brace yourself nevertheless as he makes his way over. But the dark look on his face has melted away, and by the time he reaches you, he looks cool as a cucumber, almost as if he’s slipped on a mask of nonchalance at the drop of a dime. You always wondered how he did that so easily…

“Why aren’t you out there cheering me on?” He asks Sharon, pulling her into his chest and pointedly kissing her. Your blood starts boiling once more and you subconsciously sidestep closer to Steve, lifting your chin up in defiance in Ari’s direction. The brunette side-eyes you and clutches Sharon closer in return.

Sharon beams up at Ari, “I was talking to Y/N. I’ll go in a second, because the squad is starting a new routine today and I want us to get it down in time for the next big game, and–”

But Ari’s no longer listening to her; him and Steve have now locked gazes much like how they did weeks ago at the party.

“I’m not sure why you even decided to show up today, Steve.” Ari breaks the steely silence first, “No amount of practice could help your godawful team beat mine.”

Steve smirks, undeterred. Pointedly, his arm tightens around you. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Something tells me you’ll be distracted tonight.”

Ari – somehow – looks equally unbothered, never breaking eye contact with Steve. You think you see his lip curl into a snarl for a millisecond, but it’s gone before you can be sure. “Even distracted, I’d still beat your ass.”

The blond snorts, “Your overconfidence is going to cost you, Ari. It’s what made you lose her.”

“Lose who?” asks Sharon, but she quickly grows distracted by the cheerleaders that are in the corner of the court, “Ugh, I gotta go. They’re trying to practice the pyramid and we need six of us to make it work. I’ll catch you later, okay? Please don’t try to kill Steve while I’m gone.” She kisses Ari’s cheek before waving at you and Steve and skipping away.

That just leaves you, standing frozen by Steve’s side while the two men lock eyes in their silent battle. And why does it kind of hurt, the fact that Ari hasn’t looked at you even once throughout it? In a way, you’re relieved that all they seem to be disagreeing over is basketball and who would beat who (aka lame boy stuff). But then that in turn makes you wonder: Is Ari not even affected by Steve’s arm around you? But then why did you even care if he was or wasn’t affected? And how was Steve being so forward, and, and, and–

“I-I gotta go. Wanda’s calling for me.” You lie, slipping out of Steve’s grip and scurrying away. The energy bouncing off both of them made you feel nervous, on edge, almost unsafe. You look back over your shoulder now to see them still staring at each other. Cold, barren stares that seemed to have grown more intense now that you’d left. It makes you gulp, and you wonder if it’s just a basketball rivalry between them after all – or it it’s something more.

“Where the hell have you been? Didn’t I tell you to find us good seats?” Wanda rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and yanking you over to the last remaining front row seats. You try to clear your head of any thoughts of Ari or Steve, instead marvelling over how many people had showed up to watch these two teams play together in what was just a practice match.

“I was, uh, I just saw Steve.”

“Who?”

“He’s the… he gave me a lift home the night of the party.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose, about to say something before she grows distracted, “Look! There’s Curtis! The game’s about to start!!”

You never held much of an interest in basketball, even when you used to watch Ari play. But now, you pay attention carefully as the teams hit the court. Ari’s team have maroon jerseys and Steve’s team are in blue. They huddle on opposite sides of the court before the coach blows a whistle and they start playing.

“Look how good Curtis looks in his jersey,” Wanda gushes.

Ari looks pretty good too, you almost say out loud. And Steve too.

Both Ari and Steve were very similar on the court. Both the respective captains of their own team, you observe them ordering their teammates around, calling out strategies and gameplans, hyping the players up. They moved around similarly too, both so big and beefy and yet so fluid and lithe when dribbling the ball across the court. They were both clearly the most talented players out of everyone, yet you couldn’t tell who was better between the two of them.

“C’mon Rogers, is that the best you can do!?” Ari taunts after shooting an easy three-pointer about a minute into the game.

Steve rolls his eyes before beckoning one of his teammates closer. He’s a brunette with “Barnes” printed on the back of his jersey. The two of them confer for a few seconds while Ari and Curtis laugh and gloat with their own teammates. Then the coach blows the whistle again.

You zone out for a while, the maroon and blue jerseys becoming a blur as they whiz across the court. A bunch more points scored, the roar of the crowd, Wanda shrieking happily every time Curtis scores or jogs close to your seats. You, however, are much more interested in the way Steve had brazenly felt you up just now before this practice match had begun. Or how Ari hadn’t even looked at you when he’d come over to confront Steve. Or how…

“You fucking tripped him.” Steve seethes, the frustration in his voice carrying across the court and making you refocus on the game which has suddenly halted. The blond looks pissed, a borderline lethal look on his face as he kneels down next to his teammate. The brunette, “Barnes” is on the shiny floor, clutching his knee in pain.

Ari shrugs, “No I didn’t.”

Curtis snickers behind him.

Steve gets to his feet and shakes his head, but he barely has time to react before Ari throws the ball at him. Hard. It hits Steve squarely on the chest before he catches it, his jaw twitching as he does.

“C’mon, Rogers. You got a sub for your friend or are we gonna have to call it like last time?” Ari grins.

The brunet called Barnes limps to his feet, “Nah, I can play.”

Ari frowns. But the coach blows the whistle and the game resumes. This time, you pay closer attention. You note how Curtis is playing dirty, shadowing Barnes till he’s nearly on top of him, even trampling on his feet a few times.

And it’s meant to just be a practice game, but Ari and Steve look like they’re playing in the basketball world championships – or whatever it was called, it’s not like you would know. Both look stone-faced and determined, stealing the ball from each other multiple times, blocking each other, not letting each other shoot. They seem to be within a game of their own, one which was mental almost as much as it was physical.

“Is that all you got, Steve?” Ari taunts as he steals the ball from the blonde.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve mutters, stealing the ball straight back.

Back and forth it goes, neither of them letting the other shoot. Taunting and jeering each other every chance they get.

“What’s the deal with them?” You find yourself asking Wanda, your eyes glued to the court, “Why do they hate each other so much? Has Curtis ever told you?”

Wanda shrugs, “All I know is that the last time our team played against Steve’s, he lost it and got a yellow card, making his whole team lose. Curtis told me that. Basketball is a competitive game, Y/N. I thought you knew that.”

This seemed more than just a silly sports rivalry, though…

“I fucking saw that, you bald fuck!” Steve rages at Curtis, halting the game once more. “If you trip another one of my guys one more fucking time–”

“You’ll what? Blow your top off and get another yellow card?” Ari smoothly steps in front of Steve, squaring up to the blond with a smirk on his face, “Not a single person in here would be surprised, pretty boy.”

In a flash, Steve has hold of the front of Ari’s jersey, “Keep fucking talking–”

Ari doesn’t back down, and your heart begins to thud like crazy as you watch them. They’re quite close to where you and Wanda are sat, but you have to lean forward to hear what exactly they’re saying.

“Not so fucking smug now, are you?” The brunet sneers lowly. “Thought you could dangle her in front of my fucking face? But you can’t keep a girl, pretty boy. And you can’t keep your cool either.”

They’re like two Adonises, one as ripped as the other. One every bit as tall and built as the other. One every bit as handsome as the other. And both with an equal look of hatred on their faces, a kind of deep-seated hatred that made you uncomfortable, that chilled you down to your bones as you sit frozen in place, watching it all unfold.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve murmurs threateningly, a blue vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to pop.

Ari smiles coolly, “Or what? Gonna let your team down again, Rogers? Maybe a yellow’s not enough for you, maybe you’re aiming for a red card this time, huh?”

“A red card’s worth splitting your fucking skull–”

“ROGERS, LEVINSON, BREAK IT UP!”

You jump when both the teams’ coaches blow their whistles, making their way over to the two captains. Curtis drags Ari away, and a guy with “Wilson” on his jersey, as well as Barnes both pull Steve in the other direction too. A five-minute recess is called, and you can’t believe what you’ve just seen.

In his team’s respective corner, you watch as Ari snatches up a bottle of water and takes a long swig before pouring the rest of it over his head, as if to cool himself down. Swivelling your eyes, you see Steve in his team’s corner of the court, his hands curled into fists by his side as Barnes and Wilson speak lowly to him. But his blue eyes seem far, far away. And his jaw remains tensed, a dark, almost unreadable look on his face.

The game resumes, but this time it feels different. The dynamic between the two men is completely juxtaposed from what it was the night of the party. Then, Steve seemed in control, laughing as Ari lost his cool. Now, it’s the complete opposite. Ari seems to have recovered from the scuffle, resuming his taunts and insults as he dribbles the ball up and down the court like a pro. But Steve is somewhat out of it, still playing well but almost as if he’s out-of-sync with himself, as if his mind is elsewhere.

And Ari seems to have picked up on it.

“What’s the matter, Rogers? About to lose it again?” Ari snickers after he’s dodged Steve and scored another three-pointer.

Steve says nothing.

St. Andrews (Ari’s team) is up by three points. There’s no scoreboard as it was just a practice and not an official match, but there’s a freshman in the front row – Jake Jensen – who’s acting like a play-by-play commentator.

“Will Steve Rogers lose his marbles and cost his team another match?” Jake speaks into his headset in a suspenseful tone, “Will this all-star athlete crack under the pressure? Will he succumb to the opposition’s tireless taunts? Will the golden boy lose his cool once more? Will he–”

Steve swiftly tosses the ball aside, and the ref barely has time to blow the whistle to call for a time out before the blond grabs Jake Jensen by the collar and hoists him up in the air as if the freshman weighs nothing more than a feather.

“You say one more fucking word, I’ll shove this headset up your fucking ass, got that?” Steve shoves Jensen back in his seat before throwing the poor freshman’s headset at his face, knocking his glasses off. Jake swallows and nods, his mouth clamped shut and a frightened look on his face.

You bite your lip and watch as Steve returns to the game. He’s still got that far-away look in his face, as if he isn’t quite one hundred percent there. He also looks agitated, rattled, unnerved. You feel wary of him, and yet at the same time you also feel a pang of pity, a part of you wanting to go up there and give him a hug despite the fact that you don’t know him like that.

The game starts up again, and quite frankly, you really just want this damned practice to end already. The atmosphere is so intense, so thick, you could practically cut through it with a knife. Steve scores a point, then Ari does, then Steve, then Ari – it’s almost like they’re playing a one-on-one match and everyone else on the court is a paid actor.

“You’re losing your edge, pretty boy,” Ari starts his taunting once more, “Do it. Lose it. Let everyone down, Rogers. Show everyone what a–

“GODDAMIT, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Steve explodes. What happens next happens very quickly. Steve, in a fleeting fit of rage, throws the ball straight at Ari’s face. Hard. Except Ari dodges it just in time. You hardly register what happens after that, and –

THWACK.

The ball hits you right in the face.

Commotion around you. Yelling. Whistles blowing. People talking. Whispers of your name. You think you even hear a snicker from right next to you. And yet you hardly take in any of it, trying your best to catch your breath. Your ears are ringing, your face burning with immediate pain.

Oh god, oh god, oh my god!

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Ari roars at Steve.

You try and find your voice, try to voice that you’re okay, try to grab for Wanda’s hand but it’s like you’re stunned into place. And truth be told, you’re not okay. The whole right side of your face where the basketball hit you hardest throbs in pain. You can even feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Oh, but you can’t cry here, you just can’t! But it hurts! Oh, it hurts so bad!

The next thing you know, you’re being scooped up into someone’s muscular arms.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ari. You blink several times to clear your fuzzy vision. Were you imagining him? No, his arms feel very solid and familiar around you as he lifts you up, carrying you out of the crowd and to the side of the court.

“It hurts!” You can’t help but whimper, feeling like a baby. A disoriented, helpless baby.

“Oh my gosh, is she okay?!” You hear Sharon run up to you two. Shit. Ari wouldn’t be caught dead holding you in his arms in front of his girlfriend, would he? Despite your disoriented state, despite all the pain, you brace yourself for him to drop you.

“Go get some ice,” Ari orders her. “There’s an ice box in the locker room. Go.”

You’re too preoccupied with your throbbing face to really notice Sharon’s reaction, but she dutifully does what he tells her.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry,” Now you hear Steve’s voice, a scuffle which was him probably pushing past people. You try to straighten up in Ari’s arms so you can look at the blond, but dizziness overtakes you. You can still hear him though, despite the ringing in your ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Ari growls.

“Shut the fuck up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m talking to you, asshole. You’ve already done enough.”

Ari walks away with you in his arms. You’re finally able to look over his shoulder as he carries you, and catch one last glimpse of Steve just standing there. He’s staring at his hand, flexing it in front of him as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. But it wasn’t his fault, was it?! You can’t think straight, and your face throbs with pain if you try to touch it.

“I can’t fucking believe him,” Ari fumes, as he walks the two of you into a bathroom off the side of the court. You welcome the privacy, being away from the multiple pairs of eyes that had been ogling you when the basketball had hit your face. He gently sits you down on the sink before grabbing a first aid kit that’s conveniently in one of the drawers. “I told you he was trouble, didn’t I? Now he’s physically attacked you in front of everyone. He’s a fucking psychopath–”

“Ari, it hurts,” you interrupt, your voice all wobbly.

The brunet’s features soften. He’s got an ointment in one hand, but he uses his other one to brush your cheek, coming up to stand between your dangling legs.

“This’ll numb the pain.” He says, his voice soft like a cloud. And you’ve never felt this type of softness from him before. Especially not in the past few weeks whilst he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. He spreads the numbing ointment over and around your eye, and you sigh, feeling a little relief.

“That’s a good girl,” Ari murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your leg and giving it a squeeze, “He got you straight in the eye, that dumb fucking prick. It’s definitely gonna bruise, but you’re doing so good, baby. You’re being such a brave little girl.”

Oh god, the way he was speaking was giving you butterflies! Why was he doing it? Did he still care about you?!

“Why are you being so nice?” You blurt out, the pain on your face making you deliriously bold.

Ari snorts, squeezing your thigh, “Baby, I can be nice. You know that.”

Well, he’d been awful these past few weeks. He’d been awful to you the night of the party, too. And yet… You can feel yourself slipping, getting lost in his blue eyes that seem to be sparkling with earnesty, and– No! No, you weren’t going to let yourself go there. Not this time!

“Y-You weren’t being so nice to Steve tonight.” You accuse, trying to shake off the romantic tension that seems to be creeping up on both of you, trapping you in that bubble of desire that you always seem to find yourself in alone with him.

Ari scoffs. “Don’t defend that asshole, not after he gave you a black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? That he was bad news?” Ari’s hand doesn’t leave your bare thigh, and you’re acutely aware of his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Now he’s gone and hurt you just like I knew he would.”

“You were goading him the whole time, Ari!”

“That doesn’t give him the excuse to physically assault you.”

“That’s not what it was!” You try to frown, but it makes your eye throb with pain, and you wince instead.

“Well, either way, you’re never gonna see him again after tonight.” Ari declares.

Your jaw drops open, “Excuse me?”

He meets your gaze squarely, the hint of an amused smile touching his lips, “You heard me. He’s too volatile, and if you had listened to me, you’d know that.”

“He only blew up like that because you wouldn’t stop insulting him!”

It’s his turn to frown, “He blew up like that because that’s who he is.”

You regard Ari suspiciously, “How do you know him so well?”

Ari sighs, suddenly devoting all his attention to screwing the cap back on to the ointment bottle. He takes his time, carefully placing the bottle back in the first aid kit before he refocuses on you. You expect him to answer your question, but instead he cups your face (the side that hadn’t been hit by a basketball).

“Sweetheart, the bottom line is that he hurt you.” Ari’s voice drops a few octaves, his face suddenly so close to yours, so close that you can see his long lashes flutter as he blinks, “I didn’t like that.”

You bite your lip, goosebumps running up and down your arms. You feel a sudden sense of dejavu – being in a bathroom with Ari alone like you were all those weeks ago at that party. The bathroom where he’d left you. “Wh-Why didn’t you like it?”

“You know why.” He moves even closer, his lips looking so plump and pink…

“No. Tell me.”

“Because I care about you. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night.”

Tenderly, he kisses you. And you don’t even fight it, easily melting into it despite everything. Despite how much you’d coached yourself not to fall for him again. His lips just feel so good, so natural, so him. And he’s holding you so gently, almost like you’re made out of glass. It’s like it’s a different Ari that’s kissing you now, so different from the man you’d gotten to know, from the man who’d hurt you and lied to you countless times.

The two of you pull apart, before instinctively pulling back in for another kiss. And you don’t know if it’s you or him that initiates the second one, but it’s like there’s an invisible string between the two of you, keeping you connected no matter how hard you try to run away.

“Ari,” you whisper against his lips, “Ari, what does this mean?”

He says nothing, continuing to peck at your lips. His hand slips up your skirt, but you quickly grab it to halt him. No, you needed answers this time before you took it any further.

“Y-You said you care about me.”

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

“Are you going to break up with Sharon?”

Silence.

And just like that, the bubble pops. You crash back down to reality. Your black eye throbs, your heart throbs, and now your head’s throbbing too. Sighing sadly, you push Ari away.

“Hey, look, I’ll figure something out.”

You shake your head, “I don’t have time for you to figure something out, Ari. It’s either me or her. Because honestly, Sharon doesn’t deserve this and neither do I. And I’m not going to start sneaking around with you again if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ari doesn’t say anything, but his eyes look torn. He opens his mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut again and sighing. Running a hand through his mane, he leans forward as if to kiss you again, but you turn your head, not wanting to give in to the temptation a second time.

His silence is all the answer you need. With a heavy heart, you sigh.

“We need to pull the plug on this – whatever this is.” You say firmly, “and maybe it’s time for me to see other people so I can properly move on from you.”

Immediately, Ari’s eyes narrow, “What, like Steve? I already told you he’s dangerous.”

“He likes me and he’s not afraid to be seen with me in public!”

“He’s not afraid to physically assault you in public, that’s for sure.”

Round and round the two of you went, in this never-ending circle of fighting then making up then fighting again. It needed to end. You had to end it.

“Steve asked me out earlier today, and I think I’m going to go.” You scoot off the sink, feeling a bit shaky on your feet but overall alright enough to walk away.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Ari blocks your path, looking frustrated beyond belief. “Look, the only reason he even asked you out is because he wants to get back at me.”

Your jaw drops open for the second time in the span of five minutes. Angrily, you push past him, “You’re a fucking dick, Ari.”

“I’m not saying it to hurt you, I–”

“No, just shut up!” You interrupt, “Another guy asks me out and you can’t help but make it about yourself, can you? Because God forbid a guy likes me for me, right? Fuck you.”

He opens his mouth to as if to say something, but the door to the bathroom pushes open at that exact second.

“There you guys are!” Sharon huffs, looking red and out of breath, with a bag of ice in her hands. “It took me ages to find the ice box, are you okay?!”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You answer, but she insists on icing your eye for you. It makes you feel even worse, standing there and allowing her to gently press the ice against your injury. The physical relief is instantaneous, but you feel icky on the inside. Yet again, you’d kissed her boyfriend behind her back. And it was even worse since you and her were kind of friends now.

Ari slips out of the bathroom without another word, and you watch over Sharon’s shoulder as he leaves. As he disappears down the corridor until he’s just a shadow, and only then you allow yourself to let out a long sigh. There. It was done. You and Ari were over now.

Forever.

***

“Sorry again for the black eye,” Steve says, his hand pressing against the small of your back as he leads you up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. “I promise I don’t usually have to resort to violence to get a girl to go out with me.”

It’s been a week since the fateful basketball practice game. Steve had texted you that very night, apologising over and over again for throwing the ball at your face. You were forgiving, naturally. It wasn’t his fault, and it’s not like he was aiming for you anyways. After that, the conversation had quickly flowed over to other things, and you found Steve easy to talk to over text. It wasn’t as intimidating, and he led most of the conversation, telling you how he’d love to take you out that weekend. The two of you had texted all week – and it was a welcome distraction from Ari, anyways.

Now, you giggle, feeling all glowy and special because the day of your date is finally here. You’re outside, the sun is shining and Steve’s confidently taken your hand in his. In comparison, you can’t even remember the last time you’d held hands with Ari – or if you’d ever held hands with Ari for that matter.

“That’s alright, Stevie. Just as long as you promise not to do it again, I don’t think I’d fare well as a battered and abused wife.” You answer before your eyes widen once you’ve realised what you’ve said. Had you just referred to yourself as his… wife? On your very first date? God… What the fuck was wrong with you?

But Steve only smirks, pulling you up the stairs leading to the front door of his house before yanking you into him, taking you by surprise. Your face collides with his hard chest as he kisses the top of your head. Your cheeks immediately go hot – he was so forward sometimes! No. All the time. He was incredibly forward all the time. And you don’t think you mind it in the least.

“Trust me, sweetheart. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t have allowed you to run around in that slutty little outfit at practice in front of so many feral basketball players.” He says, grabbing his keys from his pocket and going to unlock the door.

You bite your lip, “Are you calling yourself feral?”

His gaze is intense as he looks back at you, but then he chuckles, “Baby girl, with you prancing around in that tiny excuse of a skirt, who wouldn’t be feral?”

Your eyes widen and you stare down at the floor again, cheeks forever hot at his way with words. Steve smirks, pulling you inside. You find yourself in a massive foyer. You’d never seen anything like it, because the front door to your family’s house back home simply led into a living room. But this place was all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and grand staircases – like a fairytale palace.

Everything leading up to this moment had felt surreal like a fairytale. Steve had picked you up promptly at 4pm, just like he said he would. And he’d checked every box on the imaginary first date checklist in your mind that you didn’t even know you had. His hair was all windswept and gorgeous, starting to grow longer down his neck. His face was clean-shaven, blue eyes sparkling as he’d kissed you on the cheek when you’d opened your dorm room door to greet him.

With your hand grasped tightly in his, he’d tugged you to his car. Held the door open for you, helped you inside and he’d even secured your seatbelt for you.

“I’m so excited!” you’d blurted out when he’d got into the driver’s seat. And Steve had smiled, leaned over the console and kissed your forehead, murmuring in agreement. And it had made you swoon, your eyes widening at how forward he was, how comfortable he was with you when this was only the first date.

And then he’d grabbed your chin and looked at you with those intense eyes, “Baby girl, you know what would make this date even better?”

Entranced, you’d asked him: “What?”

His features had hardened for a second, and his grip on your chin tightened all of a sudden too, “You don’t mention Levinson tonight. Or ever again. Not when you’re with me. You got that?”

Your jaw would’ve dropped open had he not been holding your chin so hard. But you’d shaken your head hastily, not wanting to do anything to upset him or ruin your first date, “O-Of course, not, Steve, I wouldn’t, I–”

“I’m serious,” Steve had said softly, and yet he sounded almost threatening, “I hear his name come out of your mouth even once, and I’ll be very angry. Got that?”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“And if I find out you’re dating me just to make him jealous, I won’t be happy. Understood?”

You had swallowed harshly. Was that what you were doing? Oh, you didn’t even know! But you decided to focus entirely on Steve after that.

“I understand.”

And then he’d changed, letting go of your chin and shooting you a winning smile. His demeanour relaxed once more as he’d started up the car, and all the tension in the air dissipated. He began complimenting your dress, your hair, telling you how beautiful you looked and how much fun the two of you would have tonight. His warm hand patted your bare leg, and then it stayed there for the duration of the car ride, making you relax, making it seem as if that moment had never happened.

And that’s how you’d ended up at Steve’s house. And sure, it was a bit strange that you were at Steve’s house for your first date with him. But he’d said something about checking on a few things at home before he took you out. It was a casual date anyways, so you didn’t mind. Plus, he looked so handsome and earnest in his pressed white shirt and navy jacket, how could you ever say no?

“This place is huge,” you can’t help but marvel.

Steve shrugs, “I guess. It’s pretty empty nowadays – my parents are both surgeons and they travel overseas a lot to perform big surgeries. And I live on campus at the frat house, so it’s just my little sister here now. I like to check in on her every now and then.”

Oh, he was so sweet! Nothing like Ari, who was looking worse and worse by comparison. Ari, who never took you out on dates. Who only ever wanted you for sex. Whose love language seemed to only consist of lying to you, and the only times he was ever sweet was when he was manipulating you…

And yet… despite everything, your mind flits back to the way he’d carried you off when Steve’s ball had hit your face. How tenderly he had stroked you and tended to you. How sweetly he’d kissed you, making the butterflies in your tummy grow alive with excitement and nerves.

Stop, stop, stop thinking about Ari!

“So, where are we going for our date?” You ask brightly, letting Steve grab your hand again as he pulls you through a large, carpeted corridor.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Steve says vaguely, “But I thought we could hang here for a while. Do you want anything to drink?”

He leads you into a modern yet grandiose looking front room, with luxurious leather couches and a fireplace and an ornate coffee table that looks more expensive than your whole house back home. There’s also an open plan kitchen, also modern and minimalistic, and Steve drags you over, pulling out a chair and pushing you down by the shoulders to sit at the marble island.

“Water is fine.” You answer politely, not wanting to ruin your appetite before the date itself had even begun. Again, you start to wonder what he has planned for you two… A cute café? A posh restaurant? An aesthetically pleasing diner, even? Your heart somersaults excitedly at all of the potential prospects. The closest you’d ever gotten to a date before this was Ari ordering Nobu to your dorm room and the two of you eating on your bed while you forced him to watch Gossip Girl with you on your laptop…

“What’re you smiling about, gorgeous?” Steve interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Nothing.”

He shakes his head and gives you another one of his charming, lop-sided smiles, “You sure you want just water? We’ve got some good bottles of wine down in the cellar. Or I could mix you a drink, although I’ll warn you now, I’ve been told I’m a bit too generous when it comes to measuring out the alcohol.”

Your eyes widen – was it a thing to drink before a first date? You didn’t know, since you’d never been on a date in your whole entire life. Would you look dumb if you just stuck to water? Could he tell how much you were currently overthinking things? It’s not like you were against drinking – it’s just that you had done so much of it on the night of the party that you were looking to steer clear. Plus, you wanted to be completely sober for your first date, and–

Steve chuckles, “Okay then, water it is.” He tosses you a bottle of still water and you catch it gratefully. Unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, you watch him as he moves around the kitchen island, settling down on the seat next to you before grabbing your chair and pulling it over till you’re very close to him.

“I’m really happy you said yes to this date, baby girl,” he says in that intense way that he speaks, all up close and his blue eyes sparkling like a crystalline lake where the sun’s hitting it just right. It reminds you of Ari’s eyes, actually – and it was crazy how both Steve and Ari had the exact same shade of blue eyes.

“Oh, uh, I’m happy too,” you say shyly, gulping as he pulls you even closer, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He strokes your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he fingers the lacy hem of your sundress.

“And I love this little dress you’re wearing,” His voice lowers, and your lips part as you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, his face so close to yours. “I love that you wore it for me today, sweetheart. You did wear it for me, didn’t you? Just me?” His grip on your leg hardens slightly, but you’re too busy focusing on his long lashes to even notice.

“Y-Yes, I thought it would look cute for our date,” you breathe, acutely aware of his fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, lifting it up slowly.

Steve smirks, “You do look cute, in your pretty pink dress that you wore just for me.” He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you forward, his eyes hooded and lips hovering over yours. Just an inch away, and your heartrate quickens, and you move closer–

“Steve! I thought I heard you come in!”

You and Steve spring apart when a girl appears in the doorway of the kitchen. But her wide smile is immediately replaced by a look of embarrassment and even fear the moment she sees that you’re there too.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company…” she stutters, backing out of the room.

“Kira, wait, don’t go,” Steve jumps up and grabs the girl’s arm before she can escape, “Come meet my date. Babe, this is my little sister, Kira.”

For some reason, when Steve had mentioned his little sister living here earlier, you’d automatically just assumed there was a pre-teen running around somewhere in the house with a live-in nanny chasing after her. But Kira looks about the same age as you, and she also looks somewhat petrified. Standing there next to her brother, wringing her hands together and barely being able to make eye contact with you.

“Hey, Kira, it’s nice to meet you.” You say pleasantly, and she returns your smile awkwardly for a nanosecond immediately looking back down at her feet, as if she felt embarrassed in her own skin. She’s pretty, with pale skin and blonde hair just like her brother. But Steve was big, assured and confident, whilst Kira looks extremely shy, with a slight build – much smaller than him. Her hair is scraped back in a tight plait down her back, and her glasses were slightly crooked on her face.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, and she looks at you for a second or two, but seems to grow alarmed when you meet her gaze. Quickly, she looks to the floor again, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

“She’s the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Steve says to his sister.

Your heart swells, and you beam up at him, “You’ve been talking about me?”

He gives you a wink, “Of course. You’re practically a household name, sweetheart.”

Kira clears her throat, backing away slowly, “I-I should go, uh, it was nice meeting you–”

“Stay, Kira, please!” Steve says, “We’re leaving in a second anyways, then you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

The poor girl looked extremely awkward, and a part of you feels sorry for her as she stands there quietly, with Steve beaming next to her.

“I like your sweatshirt.” You say after a few seconds of silence.

“Th-Thank you,” Kira answers, glancing down at her front before shooting you another quick, tight-lipped smile. “I – uh – I thrifted it a while back.”

“I love thrifting! I’m new to the city though, so I don’t know any of the good places.”

“Kira could show you around!” Steve suggests. You nod politely. Kira smiles too, but you can tell she still looks mortified. You try not to make it obvious, but you’ve noticed how her hands are shaking as she keeps them clasped in front of her. A part of you can relate – you still get shy and awkward around people you don’t know, too.

Kira starts backing out of the room again, “I – uh – I’m so sorry, I have a report, I–”

“No, please! You’re good!” you say, “It was really nice to meet you!”

“You too,” she answers, before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

A few beats pass before you speak.

“She seems really nice,” you say, taking another sip of water.

Steve nods, looking distracted as he watches after his sister through the glass pane of the door. His smile from earlier is still plastered on his face, but it no longer seems to reach his eyes. The atmosphere, the air itself, suddenly feels heavier, different in a way, and you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

When Steve finally looks at you, he’s got a dark look suddenly shrouding his face. But he smiles nonetheless, grabs your hand and pulls you up to your feet, “Yeah, she’s great. I know she didn’t talk much but that’s only because she tends to get really anxious around people she doesn’t know. But I promise you, she’s a good kid.”

“I totally understand.”

“No really, if you get to know her, she’s a lot of fun. She doesn’t really go out much…” His voice trails off, but you feel him squeeze your hand tighter as he leads you out of the kitchen and into a spacious corridor.

“I get that,” you answer honestly, wondering if you should say anymore or whether it would be overstepping. But Steve still looks distracted, and you want to show him that you’re present and attentive and interested in what he’s telling you – which you are. “Honestly, I get it. Does she have a good group of friends at her college? I know that friends can be–”

“She went to your college.” Steve interrupts you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “She goes to St. Andrews’? No way, that’s so cool! I don’t think I’ve seen her around but that’s probably ‘cause the campus is so big, but wow, I–”

“No, she used to go there,” he says, stopping in front of what you assume is his bedroom door, and turning to look at you with a peculiar expression. Steve, always so forward with his emotions, but right now his blue eyes gaze at you with a look that’s almost unreadable, and his words come out blunt. “She doesn’t go there anymore. She dropped out.”

Oh.

You can feel his hand clutching yours very tightly, his grip almost crushing. And yet, despite the physical contact, he seems far away. Like he’s lost in his own world, like there’s something brewing inside his head but you can’t seem to read him and figure out what exactly it is. His full lips are pressed into a thin line, and his other hand grips the doorknob tightly for a handful of long seconds before twisting it and pulling you into his room.

“Steve, I…”

He shuts the door before turning to face you once more, and he’s still got that stormy, distant look on his face, a look you’ve never seen before now. It’s almost eery, how quickly his demeanour had changed. Just a minute ago, he was being charming as hell…

But then his face suddenly relaxes, lips twitching into that lop-sided smile of his. The familiarity of it relaxes you too, makes you not fully notice how it still doesn’t reach his eyes as he tugs you into him.

“Why did she drop out?” You breathe.

Steve’s face is so close to yours, his blue eyes blazing and his jaw tensing and untensing almost rhythmically. He sucks in a breath, his charming smile freezing on his face as he looks somewhere beyond your shoulder.

“She just didn’t have the best time there,” his eyes darken, the grip he has on your hand not relenting in the slightest, “There were some people – one person – who just…” He trails off once more, before his gaze suddenly snaps back to you, and he clears his throat, “It was just one of those things where she decided it was best for her to drop out. That was last year, and she’s taking some courses online now.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That must’ve been so tough for her,” you exhale, unaware that you’d been holding your breath in.

He nods, and you watch him closely. His eyes twitch before he smiles once more, pulling you towards his bed, “Yeah, it was.”

He backs up till he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling you on top of him till you’re straddling his lap. Automatically, your arms wind around his neck, and you don’t think you’ve seen a more intense-looking pair of eyes than his in that moment. Neither of you say anything, but his fingers dance up and down your bare legs. Slip up your hips and give them a squeeze, and you bite your lip.

He kisses up your neck, the first few being feather-light before they grow more frenzied. His hand cups your ass through the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze that has you breathing hard.

Wait, what was happening? Just a second ago he was opening up to you about his sister, and now…?

“Steve, what’re you – ah – wh-what about our date–?”

He’s got a glint in his eye when he looks up from kissing your skin, “I didn’t forget about our date, sweetheart. I just thought we’d take a little detour first.”

Oh. Okay. It’s easy to grow distracted when his kisses on your skin are making the butterflies spiral and flutter in your tummy. You want to melt into his arms, let him kiss you all the rest of the day and all night too. Let him take you on this amazing first date that he’d painstakingly planned for you, and in doing so erase the thought and touch of Ari from your mind completely, till your body forgets about the man you’ve been nonstop thinking about for the past month. Maybe this was it, maybe it was time for something new. Someone new. All Ari ever wanted from you was sex, but Steve? Steve was different.

“I wasn’t – ah, Steve – I have to say, I wasn’t planning on kissing you until the end of the date, definitely not before it,” you giggle, pushing at his chest to try and get a word in as he tugs the strap of your dress aside and trails his lips down your shoulder blade.

You feel him smirk against your skin, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be a gentleman and save our first kiss for the end of the date, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things right now.”

You feel your core thrum with excitement at his words, and you look up to beam at him except he’s too busy pushing your dress down to meet your gaze. The sun shines through the open window, making his hair glisten golden, and you wonder if the sunlight makes his eyes glimmer like that too. But he’s not looking at you.

“Steve,” you push at his shoulder, “Steve, won’t we be late for our date?”

His fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and with ease he unfastens it before looking at you, and his eyes are so dark, “Who’s planning this date, sweetheart? Me or you?”

You giggle nervously, “You, of course. But–”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Y-You, but–”

“No, no buts. We’ll go when I say we’re ready to,” he runs his hand down your bare back through the gap created by the open zipper of your dress, his calloused fingers running over your sensitive skin and making your heart skip a beat. His tone is distracted, and yet there’s a finality and authority to it that makes you listen to him.

Before you can think of a response, he grabs you by the waist and pushes you down on the bed before climbing on top of you. You gulp, a huge part of you so turned on by how in control he is, and yet it’s such a contrast from the easy-going Steve’s you’ve gotten to know today. But at the same time, you get a strange sense of dejavu, as if you’ve been in this situation before with him… But that wasn’t possible at all, was it?

“Stevie, please, my hair and makeup’s gonna get ruined!” You laugh, trying to bat him away as he kisses down your chest, pulling your dress down with him, “I worked really hard on it, you know!”

You wait for him to quip back, say something funny or charming to reassure you and make you feel all warm inside. Like how he’s been doing today ever since he picked you up from your dorm room. But he doesn’t reply at all, too focused on tugging your dress off. It’s crazy, almost as if his personality had completely switched since he’d dragged you from the kitchen into his room. He seems distracted, frenzied, unresponsive almost as he licks and nips at your chest.

And a large part of you wants to give in. You know your panties are soaked through, and it would be so easy to just relinquish control completely, till you did that thing where you went all dumb and submissive. But then… what about the date? You’d been looking forward to finally going out with a guy, really going out instead of just hanging out in a bedroom…

Was that all you were worth?

“Steve! Stevie, c’mon. I don’t wanna wrinkle my dress before our date–”

“Then just take it off,” he yanks at the fabric hard, and you hear a rip.

“My dress!” You cry, but he pins your arms above your head with just one of his hands before you can survey the damage. His face is hovering over yours, so close that his nose brushes against yours, and yet despite the closeness, his eyes look so far away. So dark and far away, even the sunlight from the window doesn’t seem to reach into them.

“Steve, please slow down–”

“C’mon, baby girl. The innocent act is cute but everyone knows you’re not exactly a prude…”

“Huh?”

His kiss swallows you whole, and his lips are so soft, so warm. They mould perfectly against yours, and you momentarily forget everything, your arms winding around his neck as you kiss him back. For a few seconds, it’s magical. It’s different from kissing Ari – but not at all in a bad way. When Ari kissed you, it felt like the whole world stopped moving, like everything came to a halt except him and you. But with Steve, it felt like the world was spinning doubly fast, making you feel light and heady and excited, like you were in the midst of a whirlpool, like Steve was consuming you whole.

But only for those precious few seconds, before he bites down on your lower lip, and you feel a jolt of pain. He ruts against you, his movements rough and animalistic. You make a sound of protest, but it’s drowned out by another loud rip, and you feel your dress coming further undone.

“Hey, stop!” you manage to pull away, the metallic taste of blood invading your tastebuds. You wipe your mouth, heart beating faster than a drum. You look down at your dress – the front of which has been ripped down to your waist, and a horrified feeling spreads through your chest. “M-My dress…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries pressing his lips against yours again but you dodge him.

“It is! H-How am I gonna go on our date if my dress is all ripped?”

Steve blinks, “We’ll figure something out, sweetheart.”

“No, wait! Please… I was looking forward to–”

He cuts you off with another rough kiss, his hands spreading the tear of your dress to expose your bra. He palms your breasts through the lacy material, and you don’t know whether to give in to the pleasure or address the sinking feeling in your chest. You’d gotten all dressed up for him, for this date! And now?

“S-Steve, can we please just stop for a second – ah!”

He pulls the cups of your bra down, his mouth latching on to your nipple. And oh, it feels so good! And yet…

You push him off you, “Please, Steve. Slow it down!”

Steve blinks, his eyes looking so deeply stormy, so dark and far away despite the fact that he’s making direct eye contact with you, “That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

He grips your chin roughly with his thumb and forefinger, “Playing hard to get isn’t really your strong suit, so I don’t get why you’re doing it now. You didn’t do it the night we met.”

He’s back on you once more in a flash, when his words haven’t even properly sunk in. His lips brush past your collarbone, kissing back down to your bare breasts. He circles your nipple with his tongue, grabbing your hands and squeezing them before bringing them up to his abs. Your breath hitches, the feel of his mouth on you… and his body, so hard and masculine and big, it’s got your mind clouding over. You almost forget what he’s just said…

You force out another giggle, although you don’t much feel like laughing anymore. “What do you mean? Look – ah! – please just stop for a second –”

“That’s not what you were saying the night of the party,” Steve mutters against your neck, pushing your hand past his waistband, his grip too strong for you to pull away from. “You clearly didn’t have a problem spreading your legs for me then.”

Your blood runs cold. What did he mean by that?

He gets rougher, biting and sucking on your nipples, manhandling your body till he’s got your legs spread and he’s slotted himself between them. Lewdly, he thrusts his clothed dick against your panty-covered pussy, and you suppress the need to moan. Your entire body’s screaming for you to just lay still and let him do what he’s going, because it feels so fucking good. And yet, once more, your palms press hard against his chest to push him off.

“Steve, stop, I don’t think–”

“Shut up.” He bites down on your nipple harshly and you gasp, continuing to push at him. How had his whole demeanour changed in such a short amount of time? Where was the sweetness and the charm he’d shown you less than half an hour ago?

“Wh-What, Steve, I–”

“You heard me. Don’t act like a nun all of a sudden, not when you let Levinson fuck you in the middle of a party in front of the whole fucking world.”

Your heart drops all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Your blood freezes up, making you go deathly still. You feel like there’s poison in your veins all of a sudden, turning all your insides into black tar. Your hands stop pushing him, dropping to your sides like you’ve forgotten how to use them.

Steve stops too, blinking suddenly as if he’s just woken up, as if he’s just been doused by a bucket of ice water.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that–”

“Get off me.” Your voice sounds oddly thick, and you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Steve doesn’t budge, still on his knees on top of you. He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I said I’m sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me. GET OFF ME!”

He does, regarding you carefully as he stands up beside the bed. Watching as you scramble to your feet, feeling disoriented, confused, hurt, used, upset – oh, and so much else! So he knew about what you’d done with Ari the night of the party… But for him to use it against you? After being so charming and perfect all day? You don’t know what to think anymore as your mind feels like it’s moving a hundred miles per second.

Steve sighs, reaching for your hand, “Baby, I didn’t mean–”

“I’m going home.” You say quietly, fixing your bra back into place before reaching behind you to zip your dress back up. Praying to God that you don’t struggle with the zipper just this once. And by some miracle, you get it zipped up in one go. Not that it does anything to rectify the fact that the front of your dress is torn down the top. Another wave of tears threatens to spill from within you.

Steve’s eyes narrow, “Home? Why?”

You stare at him incredulously before quietly making a beeline towards the doorway, holding the front of your dress together almost pitifully. You need to get out of here, get out before he sees you burst into tears.

Steve grabs your arm before you can get to the door.

“Look, let’s just go on our date. We can talk it out, I just said I didn’t mean to say that.”

You shake your head, “I just want to go home.”

His eyes flash dangerously, and you find your heart beating faster than normal as you shrink back, trying to tug out of his grip but to no avail.

“I fucking apologised.” He says sharply, “I’m taking you out now, so stop trying to leave.”

“You never wanted to go on a date with me.” You say shakily, tears welling in your eyes. And that’s when you realise it, like it’s just dawned on you that all of this… him asking you out, picking you up in his car, acting all sweet, introducing you to his sister… All of it was just so he could get you into his bed.

All men were the same. Ari, Steve, all of them…

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I do want to take you out, so let’s just go.”

Steve tugs hard on your arm, making you cry out in protest. His eye twitches, and he reaches down towards your face as if to tuck your hair behind your ear. But you can’t help but flinch, and then another realisation slowly dawns on you. You’re afraid of him.

You tug with all your might, freeing your arm from his and shaking your head profusely.

“I-I-I need to go home. Just, please. I need to–”

“GODDAMIT, I SAID I WANTED TO TAKE YOU ON THE GODDAMNED DATE.”

There’s a loud crack. You duck in fright, hands covering your face. When you peak through the gaps of your fingers, you see Steve breathing hard. His fist, driven straight through the wall, has created a massive hole and several cracks in the plaster.

Silence. Except for the sound of your heartbeat. You don’t even think you breathe; you’re so paralysed with fear. You watch Steve as he slowly removes his hand from the wall, as he examines his fist with an unreadable expression on his face. He flexes his fingers, and his whole hand looks red – as does his face. His jaw is tensed, almost to the point where it’s vibrating.

And then he looks at you.

“Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes I…” his voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if trying to clear his own thoughts. “Let’s just go on the date, okay? Just let me explain–”

“P-Please, just let me go home,” you beg, and it comes out as a broken, scared whisper. You can’t take your eyes off his fist, or the gaping hole in the wall. You’d seen men punch through walls in movies, but never in real life. Your heart still hadn’t calmed down, and now you’re even more sure you have to leave.

“Goddamit, why can’t you just listen to me?” He takes a step towards you and you flinch, cowering back once more as if he’s going to hit you next. Instead, he freezes, taking in your expression. He swallows, blinking several times. “Look, let’s just calm down. This doesn’t have to ruin the date, you can borrow something from Kira and I’ll buy you a new dress, alright?”

“I c-can’t, I…” you don’t even know what to say to him. What could you say? That you felt unsafe? Afraid? Not to mention, betrayed and used too? How could he possibly expect you to forget all that and go out with him?

You take a deep breath, tightly holding the top of your torn dress together with one hand. You dart towards the door, hoping to slip out without him catching you. But he’s too quick, and once again takes hold of your elbow just as you exit his room and come out into the hallway. This time, you can’t help the tears as they spill down your face.

Steve’s blue eyes flash once more, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Borrow something from–”

“Let me go, Steve,” you tug once, before growing more panicked and tugging again, harder. “Let me go, let me go, let me go–”

“I’m sorry you feel scared, I didn’t mean for that. Sometimes I get like that – just stop fucking struggling for one second, okay?”

“Steve, let her go.”

Both of you look up to see Kira standing in her doorway across the hall. Steve’s grip loosens momentarily, and you take his distraction as your opening. You break free, hastily making your way down the stairs. You don’t dare look back, focusing on the steps beneath you because the last thing you want to do right now is fall.

“Let her go, Steve. Just… Just sit down.” You can hear Kira say.

“No, she can’t just leave. I need to–”

“Please, Steve. You’re freaking out again. I’m gonna have to call mom and dad if you don’t sit down right now.”

And that’s all you hear, both Steve and Kira’s voices fading as you descend further down the stairs. Through the kitchen, your shoes pitter-pattering over the marble floors of the lobby. The ornate front door is heavy as you pull it open, escaping to the fresh air outside. You don’t dare look back, too scared to see if Steve has followed you or not.

You’re halfway down the porch steps when you hear the door open behind you. You’re about to break into a run lest Steve grab you again, when–

“H-Here.”

It’s Kira. You turn around and she throws you something soft. A pink hoodie. Despite your frazzled, haphazard, frightened state, you can’t help but feel gratitude. You quickly put it on, and it smells sweet – like candy perfume. It solves the problem of your ripped dress, and yet it does nothing to calm your frenzied heart, or stop the tears that drip past your cheeks. You back away from the town-house quickly.

“Thank you, Kira. I need to go, I need to–”

She nods as if she understands, “W-Will you be okay?”

You bite your lip to stop from bursting into full on tears. All you can think right now is that you need to get away. Far, far away. Somewhere quiet where you can think, where you can straighten your thoughts out, somewhere where you’re alone. Away from Steve, away from Ari, away from boys like them, away from everyone.

You leave, hoping she’ll understand. After all, she’d helped you – and it wasn’t her fault that her brother had been so… so…

Oh, you don’t even know what’s just happened! Your speed walk turns into a slow jog before you all but break into a run, only slowing down once you’re off his street. How had he just said all those things to you? How had he known about Ari fucking you at the party? And what did Steve mean by you spreading your legs for him the night you’d met him?

He thinks you’re a slut, you realise. All he ever wanted from you was sex, and you were stupid, stupid, stupid to think this first date was going to be something special. Or anything at all apart from sex.

You feel like crying, screaming, sobbing, pulling your hair out. But you can’t do that here, not while you’re on some random street so close to Steve’s house. Instead, you take a few deep breaths to gather yourself. Wait until you get home, wait until you’re alone in your room, you coach yourself, desperately holding on to the single thread that’s keeping you together right now. When inside you feel all torn – he’d torn up your heart just like he’d torn up your dress.

You call an Uber, luckily only having to wait a minute or two before it arrives. The ride home is silent, you just stare out the window and try your hardest to keep your tears at bay. Oh, why couldn’t you be like those other girls? The ones who could easily find a boyfriend who loved them for them? Boyfriends who liked to hang out, go on dates, cook together? Why did no boy ever want that with you? Were you only ever worth their time when you spread your legs for them?

You feel numb by the time you reach your dorm building. It feels like you’re wading through cement as you forlornly walk inside, not even noticing the familiar car parked outside. You fish your keys out of your purse only to find your door already unlocked. You swing it open, ready to just burst into tears and sob into your pillow and–

“I broke up with her.”

Ari is sitting on the edge of your bed – you’d forgotten he still had a key to your dorm – with a bouquet of pink roses his hand. Pale pink, delicate, tied together with a pink satin ribbon. But you didn’t care, not anymore.

He stands up as you walk in, slowly shutting the door behind you. You hardly register him, your mind still racing with thoughts of: Steve used you; he didn’t really want you. No man could ever really want you. They all just want one thing. They all just–

“I broke up with Sharon,” Ari repeats. “It’s over between me and her. I told her I wanted to be with someone else.”

You still don’t say anything. He may as well be speaking in gibberish.

“Go away,” you say, but it barely comes out as a whisper.

Ari grabs you by the shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling. And he looks so devastatingly handsome, his hair brushed back, wearing a crisp white button-up as if he’s gotten ready just to tell you all this. “You were right, I should’ve done it a long time ago. But who cares, we can be together now.”

“Go away.”

“I told you I’d make you my girlfriend, didn’t I?” He says cockily, thrusting the pink roses into your hands. And yet the bouquet feels like nothing, like you’re holding on to air. Ari doesn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm as he continues, “And now we can do all that shit you always told me you wanted to do. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, in fact we can go right now, we can–”

“Go away.” You say it much louder this time.

He hears you, his brows etching upwards in a frown as he regards you almost suspiciously. As he looks at you, really looks at you, slowly drinking in your shrunken demeanour, your dishevelled hair, the numb look on your face, the dried tears on your cheeks, how your eyes don’t quite meet his.

He squeezes your shoulders before his hands freeze, and you look up to see him staring at the hoodie you’re wearing. You see a flicker in his eyes, but it’s so fleeting it’s almost like you imagined it. He inhales deeply.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, before he grows distracted when his gaze flits over to your dress. Your poor, torn dress. His frown deepens, slowly turning into a snarl, “Who the fuck did this to you?”

You shrug out of his hold, feeling like you’re a million miles away, “Just go away.”

Ari’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tensed up as he surveys you carefully. His hold on your shoulders never loosens.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“Go away.” You feel like a broken record.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ari’s features harden like stone, his fists curling at his sides as he surveys you. “I knew this would… Fuck, I can’t fucking believe–”

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME!? I SAID GO AWAY!”

You erupt like a fucking volcano, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as if you can’t hold them in anymore. But you feel more rage than sadness: rage at him, at Steve, at yourself. You throw the bouquet of pink roses at his chest. Hard. They bounce off him at fall to the ground in a dejected heap. The look of seething anger on Ari’s face is replaced with one of shock, and then concern. But was it even real? Was it ever real when it came to you?

“Just get out of here, Ari!”

“He’s a piece of shit, and I’ll fucking kill him, alright? I promise he’ll never hurt you again.” Ari says it slowly, trying to step closer to you but you immediately push him back. One shove turns into two before you lose it, your tiny fists landing on his chest over and over again.

“I DON’T CARE, OKAY!? I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!”

You scream it at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure everyone in the building heard you, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything anymore. All you want to do is be left alone.

“Hey, hey, stop. Calm down.” Ari grabs your fists in his hands but all you feel is trapped. Like you did back in Steve’s bedroom. Like Ari’s about to administer his sweet manipulations once more so that you end up in bed with him. It was all you were good for after all, wasn’t it? You jerk away from him, shaking your head fiercely.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Ari looks like he’s at a loss, and yet at the same time he looks livid, “Hey look, you’re okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re okay. Just calm down–”

“Get out!”

You scream it over and over again, till your throat feels hoarse and yet you still don’t stop. You just want him out, want him gone. You push at him again, and then again, and he’s so strong and solid that he doesn’t even budge, and this makes you even more upset. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, but there’s also a softness in his eyes but you don’t know if it’s real or if you even want it to be real anymore.

“Baby, you’re okay. Just calm down, you’re safe now, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He sounds so soft, so kind, so unlike himself. He’s acting, you think to yourself. Acting just like how Steve was acting. He doesn’t really care about you. Neither of them do. You’re the idiot. You’re the fool. You’re the slut.

“GET AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING SCREAM!”

Ari is the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and he never takes orders from you, that much you know. And yet, by some miracle, he backs off. Maybe he sees how broken you look, how there’s nothing he could really do in this moment that wouldn’t just make you angrier, and push him away even more. You also believe there’s a large part of him that wants to genuinely kill Steve – for whatever reason – probably pride – and yet, you don’t care.

And so he does leave, but not before promising once more that he was going to murder Steve Rogers. He says some other things too, but you’re too distraught to even take them in. He tries to touch you again, but you bat him off, screaming even louder. Finally, he just leaves, an unreadable look on his face and his hands still curled into fists, undoubtedly going to find Steve.

And that’s when you collapse to the floor, the tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. You grab the pink roses, and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, you rip them apart. Rip flower from stem, petal from petal, throwing them on the floor with such vitriolic rage and sadness all rolled into one.

Ripped flowers. Ripped dress. Ripped heart.

AHHHHH OMFG OKAY!

I want you guys to know that I literally don't even know if I like this. I do but I also don't... Basically I'm super insecure about it. Nevertheless, please do tell me what you think!!!! ANY SHOCKS?? ANY SURPRISES?!?! OMFGGGG.

I prepared a few questions, although you guys don't have to answer them!! These are just for fun hehehe.

So... whose team are you now on? Team Ari or Team Steve? Hehe.

Why did Steve's mood suddenly change during their date???

IS WANDA A GOOD FRIEND?!?!?!

Any ideas NOW on why Steve and Ari hate each other?? What could it have to do with... I wonder...

ANYWAYS thank you guys so so much for reading! I love you all so so much, please reblog and give me feedback as I live for that and sajdjag IDEK ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

#ari levinson #steve rogers #ari levinson x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

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russellsppttemplates · 1 month

Note

The “she’s busy” prank with lando cuz i reckon it would be funny😭

link to trend- https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGemP92BS/

Note: thank you for attaching a link, anon, you know me and my lack of knowledge of TikTok way too well 😭 I have seen a few posts too, so hopefully it's good enough!

Lando left the track he did his run of the day on, preferring to do it there instead of running in the city like usual. He was thinking you could have some takeout at home, getting his phone from his pocket to ask you what you were fancying.

Hey baby, just finished my run and I thought we could have some takeout! Is there anything tickling your fancy?

Lando sipped some of the water he brought with him as he waited for your reply.

Bro, she's busy

That was weird, who would have your phone? He didn't recall you mentioning someone visiting and he knew you were staying home.

What do you mean? Y/N, are you okay?

I just told you she's busy

That wasn't usual, and Lando was starting to worry

Who is this?

Put Y/N on the phone, please, give it to her

No can do, I told you we're busy

Doing what?

That sounds like none of your business, mate

Lando tried calling you but the call was instantly declined.

That's it, I'm coming home

Lando sent the text and started his car, driving home as he heard a few messages getting through but being wise enough to not text while driving. A call came through as he stopped at a red light, accepting it with the button on his steering wheel, "baby, Y/N, are you okay?", he spoke as he heard wheezing and laughs on the other side of the call, "is everything okay? I'll be home in about five minutes, okay?".

"I'm sorry, baby", you breathed out, "Max and P wanted me to try it! I'm sorry, my love", you explained as your boyfriend's bestfriend took your phone.

"Pietra saw it on TikTok on our way here to surprise you and she knew you'd fall for it", he explained as Lando groaned, "it was funny though!".

"I was worried sick, you asshole!", Lando yelled, "I left my girlfriend at home and changed my usual run routine and I thought someone had broken in!", he said.

"Usually people think they're being cheated on", Pietra chirped in. Lando shook his head and scoffed even though they couldn't see him, "Y/N wouldn't cheat on me", he said confidently. It had been the first thing you promised eachother and you both took it seriously.

"So you thought someone was kidnapping me? And you were coming to get me and save me?", you cooed, "of course I would, baby! I'm parking the car, I'll be up in a bit", he dialled off the call.

Opening the door for him, you jumped in his arms and his your face in his neck, "you'd come to save and protect me?", you cooed again, kissing his face everywhere in hopes he would forgive you, "of course I would, I knock the guy right out", he flexed his muscles.

Max laughed as Lando closed the door with his foot and walked to the living room to meet them, "first you come here unannounced, then proceed to prank e through my girlfriend and you're laughing about my fighting abilities? It sounds like you really want to be offered to sleep in the balcony", Lando tsked, "you wouldn't", Max groaned, "I wouldn't, but it would be good considering what happened", Lando reasoned before kissing your neck when you nuzzled your face in his neck, "also, someone needs to order the takeout now, so I think that's punishment enough".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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thekissofaphrodite · 4 months

Text

Angel Eyes

Luke Castellan X Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Look into his angel eyes, You'll think you're in paradise, and one day, you'll find out he wears a disguise. Don't look too deep into those angel eyes.

Warnings: Explicit scenes *smirks*, angst (Remind me if I missed one!)

Author's note: I was listening to ABBA and realized that Angel Eyes describes Luke PERFECTLY. When Yk yk.

——

You laid on top of Luke's bare chest, still panting heavily, He pressed his nose to your hair and inhaled your scent. His muscular arms wrapped around your breasts.

"Do you love me?"

Luke immediately laughed, His throat bobbing as his laughter echoed through his empty cabin.

"Is that even a question? Of course I do, " He said, His eyes looking deeply at yours, carefully analyzing your reaction.

You didn't answer. Instead, you got up and pulled his blanket to cover your bare chest while trying to search for your clothes.

Luke immediately sensed something was wrong, He sat up and leaned against the headboard, Carefully watching you as you put on your pink bra.

"You're Upset" He said.

"Am I?" You asked sarcastically, You remembered the prophecy perfectly.

Someone who you deeply love lies, manipulating one until your own eyes sees the bright blue skies.

Someone you deeply love.

The oracle felt like it was pointing at Luke, the love of your life. The one who saved you when you were a mess. The one who kissed you every night, The one who wiped your tears when you were crying. The one who held your hand when you were scared.

It's impossible.

He wouldn't do that.

Not Him.

Not Luke.

As soon as you're fully clothed. You looked into his eyes, Searching for any signs of betrayal you might suffer, But instead, He winked and kissed your cheeks before you left.

——

He betrayed you, He really did.

He wasn't Luke anymore, He was now Kronos.

You laid beneath the road. The sun hitting your face as you stared at skies, Rethinking your choices.

You're fatally wounded after ethan nakamura shot you with a deadly arrow, The poison spread slowly inside your body, making you weak. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought his name all over again.

Luke Luke Luke Luke Luke

As if tho his name was a prayer, You were dying. You were about to lose a life, A life you had future plans, a life that you deeply deserve.

Then, You saw someone towering over you, It was Luke, with a scythe in hand, His scar was still on his face, Ever so beautiful. You tried to say his name but was greeted with a pool of blood choking you as soon as you opened your mouth.

"Shh...There there now..." Luke, Or should I say Kronos caressed your hair as you started gasping for hair, Indicating that the poison had spread now.

"Sleep well darling" He whispered as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

You then closed your eyes and stopped struggling, You were now free, The last thing you saw was the blue skies and Luke's angel eyes as Thanatos' silhouette appeared behind you.

A/N: THE BETRAYAL?!?!? I HAVEN'T READ THE BOOKS BUT I KNEW LUKE WAS A TRAITOR. HOW DID I DO?! IM NOT GOOD AT ANGST SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF THIS IS A SHORT ONE 😔😔

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #disney plus #angst

1K notes · View notes

planet-dusk · 9 months

Text

☆ making bad decisions for you ∘ b.c

chan fucked up, and now he's left to deal with the consequences. how does one find someone to help their sweet pup through her heat on such short notice? the first step: call jisung. the second step: stay on the straight path. he has this under control. at least that's what chan thinks, until you throw him a curve...

─── ☆ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

─── ☆ length: 2.3k

─── ☆ warnings: puppy hybrid!reader, sub!reader, perv!chan, big dick chan, pillow humping, corruption, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding (like a lot), dirty talk, praise, pet names: baby, pup, puppy

─── ☆ note: 18+ minors dni. the characters don’t represent real idols; this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. fictional smut is not a reflection of real life ! always communicate with your partner and practice consensual and safe sex ‹33

Chan’s in over his head.

He knew this day would come. He should’ve been prepared. But he’s been so busy lately, and he didn’t keep track of your cycle — fuck, if only he could physically beat himself up for being the world’s shittiest owner.

And of course he can’t find the informational flyers anywhere, and he doesn’t trust the internet, the advice varying so wildly he isn’t sure what to believe. He could call the shelter, but he doesn’t want them to find out he messed up. What if they take you away from him?

So he calls the only experienced person he can think of: Jisung.

“I really don’t know what to do, Han, fuck! Please help…”

“Take a deep breath, it’ll be alright. It’s not your fault there’s a suppressant shortage. You sure you don’t want to…?”

“I can’t, it’s… it’s wrong,” Chan feels the panic rising in his chest again. He takes another gulp of air to calm his shaky nerves.

“Fine, okay, it was just a suggestion! No need to yell at me, lemme look into it. I'll find a stud for her and come over as soon as my shift’s done, okay? You try to stay calm in the meantime and do exactly as I've told you to. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry, it’s - I’m a mess, I should’ve seen it coming, but thank you, Ji. Thank you. I owe you one.”

“No worries, bro. Good luck. Call me if you need any help.”

The call disconnects and Chan is left standing alone in the empty bathroom, his heart galloping in his chest. He failed you. But he needs to be there for you now. He's not proud of what he’s about to do, but you’ll understand. He has no other choice. When this is all over you’ll understand. Please, you have to…

“Please forgive me, Y/N,” he whispers and unlocks the door.

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom Chan’s thrown off balance by your body slamming into his. “Channie, sir, please,” you whimper, pressing yourself tighter against his side and wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan feels a blush rise to his cheeks and turns his head away, swallowing harshly.

“Let’s go to your bedroom, pup.”

You yelp excitedly and dart off, throwing yourself on the bed. Your tail wags against the sheets and Chan can’t help but smile. When he was a little kid he always thought he’d get a wolfdog hybrid, or a big husky, but then he saw you at the shelter: a little cream coloured mutt with soft ears and a fluffy tail, and he knew he had to bring you home.

You’re watching him rummage through his nightstand, head cocked and ears pointed. “‘t hurts, Channie, please hurry,” you roll on your back and stay there, skirt sliding down your thighs and almost exposing your panties. Chan coughs.

“I know, baby, Channie’s here to make it all better,” he mumbles and fishes a pair of padded handcuffs out of the drawer. “Just give me your hands, okay?”

You give him a puzzled look but comply, letting him attach the cuffs to the headboard. “I'm so sorry, puppy, I'm sorry,” he whispers, avoiding your eyes.

Then he turns around and hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft but resolute thud.

Your frustrated howls are loud enough to reach the living room and he flinches. Every noise you make pierces his soul and adds to the pool of guilt in his gut. He had to do it, Jisung told him so — keep her safe, tie her up somewhere, otherwise she might hurt herself. It’s for her best interest.

Chan knows, but why does it hurt him so much? He checks his phone, looking for a distraction. Two hours left until Jisung’s shift is done. Surely he can find a stud before the end of the day, right? Jisung knows so many people. He said everything would be fine. Chan just has to relax and trust him.

He takes another deep breath and turns on the tv, mindlessly going through the channels. He checks his phone again. 5 minutes have passed. Time’s never felt this slow.

Eventually he settles on a documentary about tiger hybrids. He almost succeeds in focusing on the (terrible but entertaining) storyline when he notices your howls have changed into softer, breathier sounds. They almost sound like… moans? Chan thinks. He feels his cock stir. He shifts on the couch and stares at the tv, but the screen is a blur and he doesn’t hear a word the voiceover says.

The noises continue and Chan grows more restless. How…? He looks at his phone again. 90 minutes left.

With growing curiosity, Chan’s feet lead him to your bedroom almost involuntarily. Your noises have grown softer, little moans and whimpers drifting through the door. With a quiet click he opens it and peeks his head around.

You’re sitting on the bed, awkwardly positioned with your hands still chained to the headboard. Somehow you’ve managed to maneuver one of the pillows between your spread knees. You’re grinding down on it, fluffy tail causing your skirt to ride up. From his position in the doorframe Chan catches a glimpse of your white panties hugging your ass.

The noises you’re making range from whiny to plain frustrated, the friction not enough to satisfy you. When you bend over to try and find a better position, Chan sucks in a breath, cock swelling at the sight of your soaked panties. You’re so wet the gusset has become almost see through, clinging to the outline of your pussy.

Chan shouldn’t be here. He should leave before you notice him, before it’s too late. He should go back to the living room, put on his headphones and wait for Jisung to arrive. Let him sort it out. Get you a handsome dog hybrid to help you through your heat.

“Chan?” your voice is soft, halting his train of thought. “Please…”

He’s not sure if it’s your broken plea or something else that compels him to move, but Chan steps into your room. Your tail starts to wag slowly and you drop to your elbows, presenting yourself to him. From this distance Chan can see the tantalizing curve where your thighs meet your ass, the spot he wants to lick and suck and tease…

“‘s okay, puppy, Channie’s here.” There’s still time to leave. But you’re looking back at him with your pretty eyes — how could he say no to his sweet pup? He wants to protect you. Keep you safe. Jisung and his stud be damned.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you, Y/N. I panicked.”

His hand strokes your thigh and you sigh into his touch. “Don’t leave me again, Channie. Promise.”

Chan shakes his head. “It was a mistake, I promise, I’m here with you now pup. Let me help you.”

You mewl when his fingers graze your clothed slit. “Sir, ‘s hurting, don’t make me wait any longer, need you to breed me now, please,” you trail off, grinding back against his hand.

Normally Chan would take his time to explore your body, tease you until you’ve cum at least twice before he’d give you his cock. But he hears the urgency in your voice, your pained little whimpers as you tug at your restraints.

And it’d be a lie to say he hasn’t fantasized about this before. Late at night in his own bedroom while he tried to muffle his moans, unsure of what your sensitive ears could pick up.

Chan slides your panties down your thighs with shaky hands. Your pretty cunt’s all puffy and glossy with your slick and it drips down his fingers when he pushes two inside.

Your reaction is instantaneous, a pleasant gasp as you arch your back for him. “Need more, need your cock, need it now,” you plead again.

“You sure you can take it, puppy?”

Chan rolls his plush bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

“‘Mmm don’t care, make it fit,” you pout and wag your tail for him, “Channie.”

He’ll never tire of hearing his name like this. A broken sound, filled with so much need it goes straight to his head.

He chucks off his pants and his boxers, hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen. He slides the tip over your slit to wet it, holding your hips to keep you still. Then he sheathes himself in your dripping heat inch by inch, whispering soft praises into the air between you.

“Just like that, puppy, don’t move. Gonna fill you up so good baby, let me take care of you.”

Chan knows he’s big, watches your pretty hole stretch to accommodate him. He groans at how wet and warm you feel. It’s even better than he imagined. When you shift forward on your knees he growls, “Where do you think you’re going, pup? I'm not even halfway in yet.”

He pushes in deeper, watches you arch your back even more. “Channie, so full,” you pant when he finally bottoms out, stilling for a moment to catch his breath. The sensation of your soft, velvety cunt around him is overwhelming all his senses.

“Yeah? Is my puppy nice and full?”

“Wanted - wanted this for so long,” you say and his heart makes a little leap. He knows it’s just your heat-clouded mind talking, the hormones making you more susceptible to his presence. But there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re speaking the truth.

“Yah - wanted my sir, my Channie,” you nod when he starts moving, holding tight onto the handcuff’s chain. He briefly considers removing them, but you don’t seem to mind being tied up like this, pushing back on his cock like the neediest little thing he’s ever seen.

My Channie.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he groans and you hum at the sound of your name. “Can’t stay away from you - my pretty baby… knew it from the day I brought you home.”

You’re moaning every time his hips meet yours, soft uh-uh-uh’s like music to his ears. Your pussy is gushing around his length, and Chan’s not sure how long he’s going to last if you keep clenching down on him like this.

“Fuck, puppy - you’re hugging my cock so tight,” he lands a playful smack on your ass, “want me to breed you that bad, huh? Want me to stuff you full with pups?”

He tilts your hips to reach even deeper, fat cock slamming into you with force. You’re slumping against the mattress and he hovers over your back to nip at your ear, eliciting another moan from you. The soft fur of your tail tickles his abs but Chan is too focused on the erratic pulsing of your walls around him.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? I can feel you’re close, just let go. I’ve got you. Channie’s got you. My good girl.”

You sob and he feels your release gush around him, fucking you through your high with renewed vigor. You’re a blabbering mess, unable to form words except for “Channie,” “please,” and “fuck.”

“Did my puppy lose her tongue?” He grins. “Getting all dumb on my cock after one orgasm, and I haven’t even bred you yet, baby.”

“Please…need it,” you whisper into the sheets, “need you to cum inside, please, sir.”

Even with his weight pressing you into the bed you’re still angling your hips up more, and Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. You smell so good, like vanilla and the heady scent of sex. “I always keep my promise, pup, I’m going to breed you so well you’ll feel it dripping out of you for the next three days.”

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes so glossy and fucked-out Chan loses all composure. He ruts into you one, two more times before ropes of thick cum paint your inner walls and tumble you headfirst into another orgasm.

His thighs are shaking, your cunt milking him of every last drop until he’s a panting mess on top of you. For a moment the two of you lay still, breathing heavily, until Chan realizes you’re still chained to the bed. He pulls out and you mumble something when you feel his cum drip out of you, rubbing your thighs together.

Chan unclasps the handcuffs and kisses your wrists, hugs you close and captures your lips with his own. They’re so soft, needy little sounds already escaping you again as you rut against his thigh. “Need more, Channie.”

“Insatiable little thing,” he grins and traces your puffy cunt with his fingers. “Can’t get enough, can you?”

He slips one finger in your sensitive hole just as the doorbell rings. You look up in surprise, eyes wide and ears darting in all directions.

Chan kisses you again. “Ignore the bell, pup. I’m not going anywhere. Made a promise, remember? Need to breed you nice and round. Maybe make you beg a little more for it,” he chuckles, “let me see how needy you can really get.”

You’re grinding down on his thigh now and Chan doesn’t care how long he has to stay here with you, he’ll give you whatever you want. He’ll spend days holed up inside your nest if he has to.

You grab his shirt and pull him closer, and the blaring sound of his ringtone rips him out of his reverie.

He rolls over with a groan and hits the green button, cutting off Jisung’s voice. “It’s already taken care of, Ji. Thank you.”

“Wha —? You sly dog!”

Chan throws his phone into a corner and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your thighs with a smile. “Don’t worry, pup. I won’t let anyone else touch you ever again.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #sub!reader #dom!idol #;skz longfic #tw: perversion

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declareqenius · 2 months

Text

some would sing and some would scream

summary: your girlfriends are two of the best mob bosses in the city. you and natasha were out for a nightly walk, both feeling restless as you awaited wanda’s return from a business trip. it was going well, until someone got the jump on both of you.

pairings: WandaNat x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, knives, being tied up, stabbing, passing out

a/n: hey guys! here’s another one. i have no idea how mobs work, which is probably a good thing, but i hope it makes enough sense. second part, anyone? let me know what you think! wanda is barely here but is mentioned throughout.

Part 1 | Part 2

It’s been days since you and Natasha have seen Wanda. Days, maybe a week, since you were both taken by the henchmen of an enemy family; the Celestials. They have nerve, you’ll give them that, but you know as soon as Wanda and the rest of your family finds your location, they won’t know what hit them.

The metal chair is cold against your legs and the restraints around your wrists are digging uncomfortably into your skin. You know the more you struggle, the worse it will be, but you need to at least try. There are cuts on either cheek and one gash on your thigh- which is exposed because you decided to wear shorts that fated day. You started regretting your decision yesterday because they kept their torture room freezing, and although you reside in New York, the cold has never been- and never will be- your friend.

Natasha sits next you in a chair identical to yours. Her restraints are different, though, and it’s obvious the Celestials know how big of a threat she is. She’s continuously struggled to get out of them and your heart pangs in your chest because part of you knows it’s because she hates seeing you hurt.

Your girlfriend is safe from cuts and gashes and it’s all due to them wanting to get under her skin. They know of the relationship you share with the two powerful mob leaders, and they’re trying to use it to their advantage.

Natasha doesn’t break easily. Neither does Wanda. Everyone knows this, including you, but Nat barely lasted ten minutes when Najma- the leader of the Celestials- started dragging the knife across your thigh. She begged her to take her instead, but Najma was quick to assure that any torture you faced would be dragged out.

“Nat. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Your firm voice cuts through the thick silence and leaves no room for argument. You’d stopped struggling five minutes ago when you realized it wouldn’t help, but Natasha kept it up and the redness around her wrists started to worry you.

“I need to get out before they come in again. Need to get you untied.” Her voice is gravelly and preoccupied, and her plight is obvious. The only thoughts swarming her head are about getting you out of there unharmed.

“And then what? You fight them off with nothing and we die trying to escape? We leave Wanda alone? She’ll never forgive us for that. We have to think about this, Natasha.”

You’re honestly surprised how calm you were, considering the situation. But you know Wanda is on a murderous rampage and Natasha is going through anger induced anxiety at the mere thought of either of you not making it out of this, so you’re left being the reasonable one.

“I am thinking about this, Y/N!”

Her chair clangs to a halt as she stops struggling with a frustrated huff. You know that if the two of you weren’t in the hands of your family’s greatest rival, then your girlfriend would let her tears flow free. The only sign that she had any intent of crying before she remembered where you were was her red nose.

“I’m thinking about it,” she says defeatedly, yet firmly. “Najma is going to come back any minute and she is going to harm you in unimaginable ways and I can’t stop her because I’m tied to this stupid fucking chair.”

“Natty,” you say softly, “look at me, please?”

God, you wish you could reach out and touch her. It takes a moment for her to find some semblance of composure so she can look you in the eyes instead of staring guiltily at the gash in your thigh.

“Listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me,” you start, waiting until Natasha subtly nods her head to continue, “You aren’t going to tell them anything. No matter what they do to me-”

“But-”

“No. Listen. Whatever they do to me, I need you to grin and bear it until Wanda gets here or you have a secure plan to get us out. It’s going to be painful for both of us, but I’m a big girl, I can handle it, okay?”

“Detka, I don’t know if I can-”

“Natalia. I knew what I was getting into the moment you and Wanda told me what you did for a living. I knew it would happen eventually. There’s only so much protecting my knights in shining fedoras,” you give her a gentle grin at your joke, “can do. I need you to promise me. No matter how much pain I’m in. We need to wait it out. That’s all we can do right now, my love.”

Natasha looks like she desperately wants to argue again, but you both know she’s only got so much fight left and she needs to save it for when Najma comes back. You try not to imagine what the leader of the Celestials has in store for you; which ways your body will be bloodied and scarred, but it’s hard when Natasha’s brain is going a mile a minute and the blood from the gash on your leg won’t stop dripping down your thigh.

“Do you remember our very first date?” You ask, a small smile on your face as you look up at your girlfriend.

“Malysh-”

“Nat, please. I can’t sit in silence.”

She sighs and looks away for a moment. To compose herself. You fear that sentence nearly sent her over the edge, but a moment later she nods.

“Like it was yesterday. Wands and I had thirty minutes to clean ourselves up after having gotten back from taking care of something. We were so worried we were going to be late, and so we texted you that work held us up for longer than we anticipated. You were so patient with us. You still are so patient with us.”

“Have to be with you two. Who knows what kind of trouble you got into when it was just the both of you parading around. Someone has to keep you in check, make sure you have something, someone to come home to. Both of you.”

“And we cherish every moment we get to spend with you, detka.”

Natasha says it so sincerely and it pushes you over the edge. Your eyes start watering and while it’s not a full-on sob, your tears do fall because you know where Natasha’s mind has gone. Where it has been this entire time.

Then, it feels as if all the air in the room is sucked out. All the love you felt from Natasha moments ago is gone when you see her face switch to one you had only seen a handful of times. Your girlfriends try to keep you out of the business as much as they can, but you were still privy to some things. Natasha’s expression looked distant and blank, and you hear clapping from the far right corner of the room.

Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you keep your features neutral.

Najma.

“Aw, how sweet. Quite a show you both put on. If this were reality television, my family would be rooting for you. Little lovebirds. It’s a shame your other girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sure it would spice things up.”

“If she were here, you would be dead already,” you snark.

“Dorogoy-” Natasha starts in warning, but Najma is quick to cut her off.

“It’s okay, Ms. Romanova. She won’t be able to... joke around much once I’m done with her. I must say, I have been quite lenient and I am a sucker for a love story, but I fear it is time to get some answers. So, every time you refuse to answer one of my questions, your little girlfriend here will endure some kind of pain. Haven’t decided yet. Won’t decide until that moment. Whatever feels right, I suppose. Nod to let me know you understand.”

Natasha nods.

Your eyes bore holes into the side of her head and you hope she hears your pleas. Your reminders.

“Good. We’ll start off easy, then.” Najma takes her knife out of her boot and slowly walks over to you. She places the tip on your upper arm. The way she’s looking at you, as if you were a turkey to be carved instead of eaten and enjoyed, chills you to the bone.

“What is your name?” Najma directs the question towards Natasha.

“Natasha Romanova-Maximoff.”

“Hm. That’ll do. What is your wife’s name?”

“Wanda Romanova-Maximoff.”

These were all answers that Najma knew already, and you’re unsure of why she’s wasting time. Not that you’re complaining. The more time she takes to interrogate Natasha, the more time Wanda has to find you both. The only name Najma shouldn’t know is yours. Natasha hasn’t once used it since you’ve been kidnapped, and you figure it’s for a reason. Your only family is the one you were welcomed into when you officially became Wanda and Natasha’s girlfriend, but your name not being out there kept you safer.

“And what is your girlfriend’s name?”

There it is.

You glance at Natasha, fully aware of the knife on your arm but deeming it safe enough to move the slightest amount. Natasha’s eyes catch yours and you don’t have to plead with her this time. Her decision was made the moment her green eyes met your own.

Keeping your name a secret gives both of you a better chance when Wanda breaks the both of you out of this place.

So, when Natasha moves her eyes from yours to look at Najma, you prepare yourself for the pain.

The redhead doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Najma knows it isn’t a question she’s going to answer simply by the blank determination written across her face.

“Very well then,” the Celestial leader says, bored as she drags the knife slowly across your upper arm.

You stare at Natasha the entire time.

Natasha stares at your arm, and you know it is her way of punishing herself.

As if being locked in a freezing room with no way out wasn’t punishment enough. Your girlfriend forces herself to watch as one of her foes marks your body with their knife. Their torture.

It makes her angry and she clenches both her jaw and her fists to keep herself from pulling on the restraints, having learned her lesson twenty minutes earlier.

Wanda will never let her live this down.

You’re glad it’s not Wanda with you. She would have been able to kill everyone by now, but if they had put special cuffs on her and made her watch as they tortured you, you know she would have given everything up to ensure you lived.

You appreciate how much your girls love you, but the family wouldn’t have been able to take that kind of hit. So, you’re glad it’s Natasha who is with you, and maybe you’ll get the chance to reiterate that to Wanda someday soon. It will surely keep them from biting each other’s heads off while you’re recovering.

“Next question.”

You can hear the Cheshire Cat-like grin Najma wore as she placed the knife in a different spot on your body. This time, your thigh, about two inches higher than the first gash she gave you.

“Where is the Mind stone?”

Again, Natasha doesn’t answer and you audibly keel over in pain when the knife creates an identical gash to the one that came before it.

Again, Natasha watched the knife slide across your thigh.

“Hard eggs to crack, but I have only just begun.”

Now, Najma is in front of you and you barely have enough time to process the cool metal of the knife being dragged down your face. Your breathing is heavy, but you muster the most spiteful expression you can.

“I would really hate to see this beautiful face marred, Natasha. It would be such a shame. She could pose for those magazines. I hear it is great work, but enough small talk. Maybe I won’t have to mar your beautiful face, my little paaltoo.”

You decide then that you only like Urdu when Kamala speaks it.

“All Natasha has to do is give me the location of the Mind stone and your pretty little face will go unmarked. Don’t worry, it will only hurt a little bit. It’s more of a... reminder for your lovers.”

Even if your girlfriend’s face remains neutral, you can tell she’s seething on the inside. You glance at her for a moment and you know that you need to stall more. Enough for Wanda to find both of you. Nat can’t do anything but not answer Najma’s questions, and eventually Najma will tire of the game she’s playing. Who knows what that would look like? You doubt she would kill you quickly and undermine the work she’s already done on you, but if Najma doesn’t have something to quell her violent hunger, you don’t know what will happen to you or Natasha.

So, you have to keep Najma entertained. Interested. Piece of cake.

When you know that her focus is on Natasha’s expression and not your “pretty little face”, you send a guilty look to your girlfriend. Better to ask for forgiveness later. Then, you muster up all your courage and remember all the times you’ve seen Wanda and Natasha interrogate people, and you speak.

“What makes you think Natasha will talk? You’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t said a word. Maybe she doesn’t care about me as much as you think she does.”

“Mm, you’re not going to get me that easy my little paaltoo, I hear how she speaks to you. How she looks at you. And how she seethes every time my blade runs across your delicate skin. The love this woman holds for you is insurmountable. Don’t think me a fool.”

“You picked the wrong one.”

“Excuse me?”

Blood runs down the side of your arm and thigh and you’ve long forgotten how to feel the searing pain.

“The wrong girlfriend. You should’ve picked Wanda. Natasha is tough to crack but she’s been through a lot. Wanda, though? Wanda has a heart of gold and the sight of me in danger would have had her spilling all of her secrets. Or it would have sent her on a murderous rampage and we’d be out of here already, but you never know. All I’m saying is that Wanda would have given you so much more than Natasha ever will.”

Your nonchalance must have been jarring to both the women in the room, and you’re certain that Yelena, your best friend, would have been proud of you.

“I’m holding a knife to your face and you have the audacity to judge my methods?”

Najma pierces your skin with the point of the blade and it almost makes you laugh.

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You would lose leverage over Wanda and Natasha. You wouldn’t give that up so easily.”

“And what makes you think I couldn’t find something else they hold dear to them?”

“You would be searching for the rest of your life.”

It’s a big statement. Words that probably hold a lot more weight than anything you have ever said before, but you’re aware of what you mean to your girlfriends. How all of you balance each other out in ways that no one expects upon first meeting the three of you. In fact, you’re so certain of your feelings for them and vice versa, that if you make it out of this alive, then you’re going to propose to them.

Wanda would absolutely kill Natasha if you didn’t make it out of this alive. Guilt would eat both of them up, but better one of you makes it out than neither of you.

Another slash of the knife on your cheek and you can feel the sting of the blade as Najma follows all the way through with a flick of her wrist.

“Natasha, tell you girlfriend to shut up.”

“I’ve never listened to Natasha.” You’re a bit of a brat sometimes, it’s true. “Besides, I’m going to bleed out soon anyway. Then my lovely girlfriend won’t have anyone to talk to. That would be such a shame because I’m a gem.”

You decide then that you’ve stalled long enough, and really all you did was give your already gushing wounds time to bleed even more. The light headedness is starting to catch up to you and you sincerely hope that you’ve done enough.

Najma doesn’t pay any mind to your talking, probably realizing what exactly it is that you were doing, and instead she focuses on Natasha again.

“I will ask one more time.”

This time Najma positions the knife in front of your stomach and you don’t know if she’s going to stab you or cut you, but you’re not sure she knows either. Frantic green eyes lock onto yours as you get a good look at Natasha. Your eyes are calm as you try memorize everything from the way her braid sits on the side of her shoulder to the perfect shape of her lips. Fear pulses through you and you know that somehow it is not entirely your own, but you shake your head all the same.

You will not be the reason your family falls. You will not be the reason that Wanda and Natasha have no home to go back to.

“Where. Is. The Mind stone?”

Nat’s eyes are pleading but yours remain blank and you know she has to bring forth years and years of training to look away from you and instead at Najma. So the woman holding the knife can see the defiance in her eyes along with her lips pursed in a straight line. Natasha isn’t going to say a word.

The knife plunges into your left side and you don’t scream, you aren’t going to give your captor that satisfaction, but the sound you do make is enough to have Natasha looking away and a single tear rolling down her cheek. To your confusion, though, Najma doesn’t withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade inside of you and brushes off her hands before grabbing you by the chin so you can look directly in her eyes.

“Don’t breathe too hard, my little paaltoo, otherwise a vital organ will be caught and I would so love to torture you more later.”

With that, she lets go of you and walks out. You think that having to look into that woman’s eyes was worse than any of the torture she’s inflicted on you.

“Natty,” you breathe, voice worn and your eyes wanting to shut already. You’ve never been stabbed before and the pain plus your other wounds is too much.

“Detka, I’m so sorry,” Natasha’s voice breaks and your heart aches for her.

“Shhh. Don’t apologize, my love.” Breathing is starting to get really hard. “Natty I need to tell you something.”

“Anything, malyshka.”

You know Nat is desperate to keep you talking. Keep you awake. Alive. You don’t want to give up just yet. Wands will be here soon, you can feel it.

“I think,” your head lolls to the side for a moment, “I think I only,” you breathe in and out, “like Urdu when Kamala,” you swallow because your mouth feels really dry all of a sudden, “speaks it.”

“Me too, detka. Me too.”

You can feel yourself fading, and you don’t think the knife has hit anything vital yet, but maybe a nap would help lessen the pain. Just a quick one.

Your head lolls forward and it jostles the blade a little. You can hear Natasha’s panic, how her voice wavers and breaks as she addresses you.

“Detka, baby, you’re doing so good for me, love. You’ve done so good. I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little longer. For Wanda. Please, baby. Need you to stay awake.”

You blink your eyes open and muster enough strength to look up at her.

“I’m so tired, Natty.”

“I know, baby. I know, but I need you for just a little longer, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can, Natty.”

Breathing hurts and blood is sticky. Your head once again droops forward.

“Please. Please, Y/N!”

Natasha’s cries are suddenly drowned out by the door opening. You assume it’s Najma, because even in your drowsy state, you didn’t miss the fact that Natasha screamed your name.

But then there’s an explosion and you’re able to open your eyes just enough to see swirls of scarlet red surrounding the room. You can’t hang on any longer, but you hope that Wanda and Natasha will forgive you as you finally let your eyes close all the way and your body slump forward in the metal chair you were tied to.

The last thing you felt was Natasha’s hands on you, trying to wake you up, and the last thing you heard was Wanda’s agonizing screams.

#wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #they're all having a really great time #reader goes through it #wanda is never going to let natasha live this down #wanda will also never let reader out of her sight ever again #natasha won't either

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wordstome · 5 months

Text

kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list...#fic: kosovo maiden

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lymtw · 24 days

Text

When Toji finds out that you get yourself off when he's not around, he's blatantly offended. You recognize jealousy on Toji's face when you see it. It's not always pretty, but sometimes you think it's the most beautiful way you'll ever see him. He looks at you with those eyes. Those merciless, yet disarming, green eyes. You've told him before that they are one of your greatest weaknesses, and since then he uses them to his advantage at any given chance.

Shiu called Toji to notify him about a last minute mission, and though you begged him to stay, he reminded you of how this could be the one that brings both of you out of the struggle to make ends meet.

You were blinded by the amount of time you had spent with him. A week straight, no interruptions until Shiu called. It was one of the best weeks of your life, and that only further devastated you when you couldn't talk him out of leaving.

To make things worse, he wasn't able to reconcile with you and comfort you before he left. Shiu was rushing him, but all he could think about was how you turned your back to him, not even wanting to look at him before he left.

He answered Shiu's phone call for three seconds, an enraged, "I'm going. Jesus, fuck," before hitting the end call button. He stands at your shared bedroom doorway for a few seconds more seconds, still only getting a look at the back of your head. "I'll be back, princess. Gonna make it up to you, so wait up for me."

—

The mission wasn't difficult at all. It was so easy that he even attempted to contact you while he scouted the close quartered area. You didn't pick up a single one of the six calls he made, letting them all go straight to voicemail each time. It was irritating. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted you to listen to him, he wanted to tell you that he was rushing this mission so that he could sprint home to you.

Once he got his dirty work done, he tried your phone again, and again, but you were still letting his calls go to voicemail. So, he decided to text you.

Babe, answer.

I know you're upset, but i'm on my way home now

Baby, please

You read his messages, sighing before throwing your phone across the room. He never says no to Shiu when it's about a job. You've accepted this before, but after spending a whole uninterrupted week with Toji, feeling like things would remain that way for longer than they did, it was hard to remember that life was gonna merge back in again at some point. Your vacation hours would run out and you would have to go back to work, and Toji would be hired to hunt someone down again. It was just disheartening to find out that it would happen so soon, and that Toji would jump back into routine so quickly.

You see one of his shirts at the end of the bed and reach for it. It was flipped inside out and balled up, so you know it was worn by him. Just holding it in your lap, you can smell Toji's scent. You bring it up to your nose, and your heart begins to race. Toji wore this. He's not there with you, so that's the closest you'll get to him until he's physically in front of you again.

You bury your face into the rolled up shirt, inhaling deeply. The scent really works at pushing you to forgive him for leaving. His scent was debiliating. It brought vulnerability to a moment where it was just you on the bed you share with your man. You were missing him and wishing he weren't so obligated to his work. It stirred up feelings that couldn't be contained.

In this whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't reject the feeling that blazed in you the most. Your need for him. Your desire to have him all over you, with those hands that don't quit when you waver between feeling like you've had enough, and wanting more of him than ever.

You crawl back to the top of the bed, Toji's shirt dragging on the sheets beneath your palms. Your shorts are peeled off and tossed to the floor. You grab his pillow from his side of the bed, slipping it between your thighs before laying down flat on your stomach. You spread his shirt out on your pillow, and lay your face on it, allowing your mind to fill with thoughts of Toji. You used this internal shrine to fuel the languid roll of your hips against the pillow.

Toji called one more time. He was two minutes away from the house. Your phone is on silent mode, still on the floor on the other side of the room. Besides, you were too distracted to see your phone screen light up, anyway.

"We're literally here, already. Quit stressing," Shiu says when he sees Toji scoff after putting his phone down, a deadpan expression on the former's face. The second the van stops, Toji hops out, and without another word to Shiu, he slams the door shut.

The door barges open and slams shut behind him. Had you not been in your blissful haze, you would have been concerned. Toji's footsteps echo on the hardwood floor as he looks around in search of you. You're not on the couch, you aren't in the kitchen. Where the hell could you be?

"Ma," Toji calls, walking through the hallway. He peeks into the bathroom, not digging further because the light was off. He hears heavy breathing nearby, so he keeps going down the hall. It's one of two doors. Luckily, he chooses the right one.

He slowly creaks the door open, his shoulders dropping immediately at the sight on the bed. He sighs in awe, leaning against the doorframe.

Your hips rolled a little faster against the pillow now, your arms curled tightly around the pillow for your head. Your face remained buried in Toji's shirt, your moans muffled as you gnawed on the black fabric. You were so close to unraveling, you could feel it building up in your lower abdomen.

Toji really liked the little arch you made everytime you pulled back and then dragged forward to get the longest amount of friction between your legs. He could see your body trembling, and your moans were getting louder.

"Oh, Toji..."

The monster in his pants came to life, prominently bulging through his pants.

"F-Fuck... fuck me, please," you gasped, keeping your rhythm but grinding harder against the pillow. "Oh fuck, oh fuck..." you moaned, higher in pitch as you reached the brink of orgasm. You dragged your panty clad cunt across the pillow one more time before completely falling apart on it. Cries of pleasure shamelessly filled the room as you continued to shakily rut against the pillow through your peak. You whimpered, your abdomen quivering with your shuddered breaths as you kept grinding.

Toji's boxers were drenched with precum, just from watching you go wild on a pillow. You were thinking of him while he was gone. You wanted him. You called his name while you got yourself off to his scent on a shirt he wore yesterday, and now you're just there. A breathless, panting, needy, beautiful mess.

Toji straightens his posture and enters the room. He sees your phone on the floor and picks it up, the screen lighting to show his most recent missed calls. His footsteps pull you out of your climactic trance, a starry-eyed look on your face when you see him approach the bed.

"Couldn't pick up the phone even once?" He presents your phone to you. "Too busy fucking yourself on my pillow?"

"Toji..." you start, waved off immediately by his hand.

"Heard my name in there a couple times, princess. Thought you were upset with me." His eyes rake down your body, focusing on the way your thighs clamp around his pillow. He sees the wet spot on the front of your panties, and for some reason feels envy begin to bubble up in his stomach. His hand reaches for the elastic band of your underwear, simply feeling the material that hugs your hips.

"I was," you mumble.

"Uh-huh. So, instead of waiting for me like the perfect angel I thought you were, you made yourself cum on a pillow?" He scoffs. "Don't know about you, but that's borderline selfish to me." He notices the involuntary pout on your face, your guilty eyes trying to hold eye contact while he scolds you. "I make you cum. I fuck you until your damn claws are digging into my back. Tell me, doll, and be brutally honest, for me. How is it not enough?"

"I missed you..." you say, a last resort. All you can do is back yourself up now.

He laughs in disbelief. You really were ruled by your own desire. "Try again, doll."

"I needed you, Toji, and the closest thing to your presence was your pillow and a stupid shirt you wore yesterday. We have a dirty clothes hamper, you know?" You point at the tall basket in the corner of the room. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had thrown it in there."

"Show me," he says, a twisted grin on his face.

"What are you talking about? Show you what?"

He pulls the pillow through your thighs so that you're centered on it again. "Show me how much you missed me." He sits in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. "Show me how this flimsy replacement for me, made you lose your shit."

You sit there, flustered by his silence as he watches you, waiting patiently for his hands to get gentle friction from your skin.

"Oh, you need some help winding up? I was so sure you were good at this, seeing as though you made yourself spill, but, guess not." He looks down at the front of your panties. The wet patch was growing with no movement from you at all. This made his ego sky rocket, but also reminded him of how unpredictable you could be. "I'm not gonna hold your hand the whole time, baby. You're supposed to be putting on a show for me."

His grip on your hips tightens and he starts assisting you with rolling your hips against the pillow. He watches your face, a bright shade flourishing on your cheeks when you make eye contact with him. It was like he had a spotlight on you, and he was expecting you to perform well for him under the harsh light.

You let out a shaky breath, your palms settling on his thighs. Your head hung low, hiding the bashful look of bliss on your face. It was a gesture that Toji did not approve of.

"Let me look at you," he says, still maneuvering your hips in a constant rhythm. You lift you head but turn away from him. "Keep those eyes on me." He manually turns your head, one hand releasing your hip in favor of forcing you to look at him. His hand returns to its spot when he has your glossy eyes on his. "I'm right in front of you. There's nothing over there that demands your attention, so focus."

"Toji," you whine, humiliation flooding your body.

"Gonna let go in a few seconds, so you better fall into some sort of rhythm, doll."

You try to pretend like he's not there, but it's hard to do so when he's staring straight into your soul. Watching every expression you make, watching every tremble of your lips, every swipe of your tongue. You feel total vulnerability.

His hands are off and you stutter for a second before picking up again.

"There you go," Toji mutters. You took control, and ground yourself harder against the pillow.

"Toji, touch me, please." You pull your shirt off, baring more of yourself to Toji. His lidded eyes take in the newly exposed skin. He can see your breasts rising and falling now as you breathe, and he can't deny how badly he wants to hold them. He gives in, his hands going to your back to unclip your bra. His hands immediately grope your boobs, testing the malleability like he always does. They're just so perfect.

"Aren't you a sight... You just have to be so fuckin' pretty all the time, don't you?" He rolls your nipples with his thumbs, taking in the way you shudder at the contact. "Fuck, it's hard to stay mad when you look like that."

You feel that familiar ache begin to form again, when the roll of your hips starts leaving a lingering pleasure behind.

"You're about to cum again, aren't you?" Toji asks, knowing the answer. His eyes are narrowed on you, his dick twitching even if his blood is boiling at the thought of you enjoying this so much. You're doing those little arches again where you pull back and your stomach is quivering every time you drag yourself back forward.

"Mhm..." your nails dig into Toji's thighs, using them as leverage to facilitate your movement even more. "Toji, can I cum?" you ask, your submissive tendencies coming out right on time, as usual. You like handing over control to Toji, even if it means you don't get to cum when you're seconds away from being an absolute mess. "Toji, can I, please?"

How can he deny you when you've complied with what he asked you to do? How can he turn you down when you're so driven with pleasure that you look like you're about to cry just from slowing down for a couple seconds, awaiting his response?

"Only if you do it on my hand." His hands still your hips, holding you down firmly to stop your movement completely.

"What?" Your cunt aches from holding back. It's pulsing, craving the return of stimulation.

Toji's hand slides into the front of your underwear, cupping your slickened folds. "Do it on my hand," he repeats.

"O-Okay," you comply, once again. You start rocking against his hand, the roughness of his skin adding more friction to your sensitive core. You were bound to snap any second now.

"God, you're so wet, ma. All for me?"

"Mhm... all for you, Toji," you whimper. "Gonna..." you gasp. "Oh, fuck-"

Toji devours your expression and the shaky pressure of your silkiness against his hand. His pupils are enormous, ridding him of almost all the green in his eyes. He loves the sounds you make, he loves that you adjusted to the spotlight he put on you and gave him the best show, but most of all, he loves that this was all the product of you just missing him.

You're left breathing shakily, your head hung low, and your eyes lidded with exhaustion.

"Did it feel the same?" Toji's voice brings you back. His hand retracts from your underwear, and he gets a good look at what you left behind on him, wiping it off on his shirt. It'll be removed soon enough, anyway.

"Not at all." You giggle. You look at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "You're irreplaceable, baby. Inanimate objects don't do it for me like you do."

He chuckles. Your voice is adorable, all quiet yet still able to communicate your reassuring words.

"I need a nap," you mumble, retrieving your shirt from the end of the bed.

"Wanna shower with me, instead?"

Your attention directs towards him like a homing bolt of lightning. He gives you a smug grin, and you know exactly what he's thinking.

"Spare me some company and one of those massages you're so good at giving, yeah?"

You give him a deadpan expression, almost refuting him until he hit you at another point where he knew you were weak.

"Please, mama?"

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etheries1015 · 6 months

Note

Hello! I love the way you write! Would I be able to request the reactions of some of the twst boys to MC telling them they snore (whether it's true or not)? I think Malleus, Riddle, and Azul would have fun reactions, but anyone you feel like writing would be great! Thank you!

Thank you for the compliment heuheu... much appreciated <3

When they snore

Featuring: Malleus, Riddle, Azul, Rook, Vil

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

Malleus

The moment you told him he snores, he was concerned. Was he troubling you with his sleeping habits? Were you unhappy sleeping with the fae because of this, to the point where it was noticeable? The moment the words left your mouth, he began to word vomit.

"Is that an issue? Is my snoring preventing you from getting a night of good rest? I...Suppose I could sleep elsewhere if it will grant you a full night of sleep.." Que him going down a rabbit hole of solutions, you couldn't get a single word in. Eventually, it came time for classes to begin, to which you hadn't the chance to explain your statement to the panicked fae.

When night fell and it was time for bed, his tail swayed sadly as he stood in the doorway. "I suppose I shall sleep out here, my love," He said, as lightning of vibrant green flashed outside your window.

As he turned his back and began to sulk away, you quickly ran up behind him with a bear hug.

"Malleus, would you stop and listen to me for a second?" You laughed, "When I said you snore, I was going to tell you it was cute. Like an animal snoring lightly. You seem so at peace curled up in bed with your light snoring..."

The lightning went away as fast at it had came, and you felt his tail wrap around your waist as he turned to face you, arms pulling you close.

"Ah...ahem. I apologize for my unbecoming behavior before, then. I...was rather saddened at the thought I caused my beloved to lose well-needed sleep."

He's never been called cute before, but he's also never slept in the same bed with another person. So I suppose there's a first for everything <3

Riddle

Snores like a cat. The first time you had slept in the same room, the first thing you noticed was his high-pitched yet soft snores that were short and far between.

The morning you woke up, the first thing you said was; "Did you know you snore?" Riddle blinks at you a couple times before hitting you with his annoyed face (you know the one.)

"Snoring is perfectly normal," He told you, "It's caused by the rattling and vibration of tissues-"

You got a lecture on the scientific reasoning behind snoring. When he finished defending the nature of his sleeping habits, you finally hit him with the "You snore like a little cat! It's cute!"

His face turns as red as his hair, as always when he becomes flustered.

"W-w-wha- a cat?! How dare you compare me to a cat! I..I am not a cat..."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.." You seemed pretty guilty about upsetting him, he muttered "I suppose I'll let it go..." and moved on.

All in all, as long as you aren't losing sleep because of him, he will forgive you for your previous teasing statements. However, from that day forward, you have noticed his ears take a rosy hue with shy glances your way before he heads to bed...

Azul

"Did you know you snore? Pretty loud, too. Is that like...a merman thing?"

His face turns red IMMEDIATELY. He was so embarrassed. The first time he allows someone to be near him in such a vulnerable state, and he blows it by being a snorer. A loud one, at that.

"Snoring is not common for merfolk! Being under the sea, most don't struggle with such a thing...but I would say being above water, the air that goes through my soft palate-"

Great. Another scientific review on snoring. Only Azul, on the other hand, cannot seem to keep eye contact with you.

"Please don't tell anyone. You must sign on it!"

You spent an hour comforting poor Azul, telling him it's nothing to be ashamed of, and giving him lots of hugs and cuddles. But he still continues to insist you sign a NDA to the information you had uncovered.

He was incredibly shy about having you sleep with him again, yet you managed to convince him. Azul is much more insecure than you may think about his image, however, you always seem to break his walls down.

Although, you did notice he began to wear nose strips at night, with books on sleeping habits and potions to help with snoring...old habits truly die hard.

Give him extra cuddles for the existential crisis you had instilled in your poor octo boyfriend <3

Rook

Oh boy. You had no choice but to tell him. He snores like your average forty-year-old dad. You genuinely lose sleep over it, even waking him up

"Rook, Rook. Honey. Please. I can't sleep. Your snoring is just too much, I'm sorry."

He actually finds it kind of amusing? For some reason? He asks you excitedly to tell him more about the things he does when he's sleeping.

He didn't really take you too seriously until he noticed the physical wear and tear. The bags under your eyes...

"Mon Cheri! Your eyes...have you not been sleeping well?"

"Rook. Your snoring. It's horrendous. Please."

He spends an hour doing EVERYTHING under the sun to help his snoring, for your sake! Moving around how his bed is set up, mouth exercises, the way he sleeps...He refuses to use strips, he doesn't like how they feel, and says it prevents his senses from being at their 100%.

He finds a way to help alleviate it, and you end up investing in some sleep time headphones. You make it work, because dealing with his sleeping habits is better than sleeping without him~

Vil

"Did you know you snore?"

He stares at you with his jaw open and his eyes wide. What...what do you mean he snores when he sleeps? Does he sleep with his mouth open? Does he look utterly ridiculous when he sleeps? All of these questions he bombards you with.

"Vil! Vil. I was kidding. I'm sorry. You sleep so quietly that I have to check if you're still alive sometimes. You're like a sleeping statue of perfection."

He was not amused. He almost had a heart attack and invested in the world's most expensive treatments.

Tackles you to the bed and ruffles up your hair, laughter ensuing at your silly little prank.

"Well, it's YOU who snores, potato. You're lucky I let you sleep here and not outside like a dog," He chuckles. He says this, yet you knew he loved you too much to go a single night without you by his side.

A link to my masterlist

#twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland X reader #twst #twst x reader #twst headcannons #Twisted wonderland headcannons #Malleus #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia X reader #Rook hunt #Rook hunt x reader #azul ashengrotto #Azul ashengrotto x reader #Riddle rosehearts #Riddle rosehearts x reader #Vil schoenheit #Vil schoenheit X reader

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hardlyinteresting · 3 months

Text

Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes.

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches.

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself.

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser.

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out.

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate.

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing.

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you.

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”.

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse.

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?”

“I told you. She’s a colleague”.

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on.

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are.

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people.

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing.

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life.

“Please, Hotc--”.

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it.

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage?

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave.

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward.

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”.

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now.

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes.

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that.

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself.

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off.

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you.

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals.

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees-- healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same.

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist.

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss.

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be.

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear.

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words.

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say.

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron.

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic.

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay.

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you.

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with.

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him.

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader

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doremimosasol · 1 month

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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 ๋࣭��

warnings: suggestive (trying to get into it more please forgive me), swearing

word count: 0,7 k (just a small one this time :))

a/n: thank you so so much @slytherinslut0 for proofreading this and giving these amazing adaptions, I love you <3

Oh, Mattheo was always so goddamn needy. 10 minutes until class? Not ideal. But Mattheo did a lot of things far from ideal. Once you gave him the chance to lay his hands on you, he never stopped.

How you’d finally gotten here was almost mind-boggling to him after months of just trying to get you to look at him, months of wondering how those delicate hands of yours would feel on his body. However, it was more than that. He didn't only want your touch on his skin, he wanted it on his soul. Gods, he’d never craved someone as much as he craved you.

And no matter what he did, he couldn’t control himself. Thoughts running wild when he stared at his ceiling, finding their way back to you without failure. His mind was consumed by thoughts of you. It drove him insane, resulting in endless sleepless nights.

Oh… but when he finally got you to look at him, when he finally got you to speak to him, the thoughts only got worse. You were definitely interested, it must be. Were you though?

To him, it seemed all too coincidental. You woke at the same time as him, and ate breakfast at the same time as him—your minds must be connected. You went to the library at night, you must've known it was a habit of his too. Take the same routes as him? Gosh, you must be in love with him.

But maybe you actually were falling for him, you saw him more than you saw your own friends. Everywhere you were, he was. Coincidence? Hell no. Schedules of each other in the back of both of your minds.

It didn't even take a month before he had you pressed against the wall of one of the broom closets. Hot breath, fervent fingers, charged atmosphere. You wanted each other. He was hastily moving his hands over your shirt, cursing it for getting in the way of his goal.

"For fuck's sake, let these buttons open up already."

Warm breath hitting your ear while he let his hands travel everywhere they shouldn't be. He was so hot, everything about your interactions was hot. Fingers inching closer to the place where you desperately needed them most.

You two never kissed though, the contact of lips unnecessary in the heat of those moments. It would make it feel too real. Because if you didn't kiss, nothing happened right? You could just go on with your lives until the next time.

And that's how you both acted around each other outside of the places and moments he worshipped your body. No traces left on each other, a secret.

10 minutes until class, enough time to get your high. For each of you to get your fix. But not nearly enough time to calm down—both still on edge in class. The steady yapping from the professor at the front was not even remotely being absorbed. Eyes glued to each other, unable to wipe the feel of fingers on skin from your minds. The heat of each other's eyes reflecting the heat that you both now so desperately tried to cool down.

And every time it became more real, the passion was not only present in those rooms but now when you both were around each other throughout the day. The nagging feeling. The emotion undeterred.

You knew it was over when you two finally kissed. You were in far too deep to turn back now. Because it already felt too real, and you both knew it. Once you started, you couldn’t stop — not doing anything other than kissing that night. Trying to make up for the time you waited.

Bodies moving in sync, not even able to catch your breath. You felt out of this world. Yet he was still by his senses, still making sure his body was driving you to your high. Once he heard the familiar sound of your moans he knew, he once again succeeded.

His breath hitting your ears, burning your skin. "Let's make this fucking real, yeah? Be my girlfriend, please be my girlfriend." He was begging... or demanding?

Of course, you said yes. You finally caught your breath, only for it to be taken away once more — and more and endlessly more times.

#harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth #marcus lopez arguello #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo smut #mattheo fluff

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randomshyperson · 7 months

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Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care?

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you. Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist."

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you.

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her.

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities, so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together."

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay.

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately.

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked.

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion.

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children. And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire."

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture.

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century.

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone.

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety.

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again.

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch."

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?"

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse.

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger.

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd."

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver.

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers.

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago.

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief.

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so.

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone.

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain.

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

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