#well this ends bad then--we knew it would
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Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)
Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)
Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3
Three heads are better than one
Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk
When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.
So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.
“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.
“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.
You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.
“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.
“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.
“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.
“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”
“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.
“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.
They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.
Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.
“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.
“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.
“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.
“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.
“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.
“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.
“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?
“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.
“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.
“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.
“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.
The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.
They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.
“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.
“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.
They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.
They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.
You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.
When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.
#cerberus#cerberus x reader#cerberus x human#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#terato#request#fem!human#banter
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Wolf in sheep's clothing
Joost Klein x fem!reader
Warnings: (Joost is not famous in this!) stalking, bad behaviour, maybe paranoia? mentions of killing and mentions of dead people... NOT EDITED!
English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!
Wc. over 1500
---
You always thought that you met Joost by accident. But was it really? With him you never know, and now you were pretty sure that it wasn't by accident. He is a man with charm, that's a very dangerous thing.
His blue eyes held more darkness than you had ever seen in anyone else. But there still was something in them, you just hoped it wasn't too late for him.
And even now that you aren't together, you still hoped there was some way to save him.
"By safe on your way home." Said your mother through the phone you had between your ear and shoulder.
"Yeah mom, I will. Don't worry, okay? I love you, bye." You ended the call and made your way home on the busy streets of Amsterdam. It was getting colder this time of year and you feared it would start snowing in a few weeks.
It was a short trip home from the grocery store. Just around the corner, by the book store, where you always walk by. But you tried to walk here only during the day, not night. You saw in the news many times before how some doubtful people robbed other people near your apartment. This wasn't the best street to live on, but it was still your home after all.
You hated that you had to lie to your mother, but it was for the best. She knew about your and Joost break up and she worried about you. And she would definitely get crazy if you told her the truth about your real parting.
The place you loved no matter what. Yes, it has some advantages and disadvantages, but what hasn't. And after you and Joost broke up, you tried to avoid this this shortcut as much as possible. You always thought that someone was watching you going through here, and now that you and Joost weren't together, you felt this feeling growth.
You speed up a little and adjust your jacket around you with bag full of food in one hand and the other in your pocket. "It's alright Y/n, no-one is here, there's nothing to be scared of." You kept telling yourself, you were ready for everything.
But it wasn't this unfamiliar gaze that scared you. No, you knew it very well who exactly it was. He is the one you should avoid, to hide from and to fear. Maybe you didn't know where he was, but you knew he was close.
"Y/n"
It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned around. It was him, in all his glory. You didn't say anything. You couldn't, it was like he took all the oxygen and you just couldn't breathe.
"Y/n" he repeated and took a step towards you. But you couldn't move, it was like you were glued to the floor. Looking closer at him, you saw behind his glasses how his right eye was a bit swollen and purple around the corner. He didn't look good, in fact he scared you.
He stopped a few centimeters before you, practically breathing right in your face and you were sure, you were breathing just as hard.
"Wha..." you couldn't bring yourself to even speak properly, but you had to for your sake. "What are you doing here?" It was a simple question, but you didn't expect him to answer truthfully.
"I'm here to see you."
"No," Stepping back, you took your other hand out of your pocket, keeping distance between you and him. "You can't be here."
"Why not." This dull look in his ocean eyes wasn't the one you fell in love with, he wasn't your Joost. The one that cared for everyone so much all the time, even though he didn't have to. This wasn't your Joost that told you how much he loves you right when you woke up in the morning and before you fell asleep in his hold.
This wasn't him. This was someone else.
"You know why." Came out as a whisper. "We are done." You turned back around and continued your way home, you didn't stop even when you heard his voice calling after you.
"You can't keep doing this Y/n!"
He wasn't coming after you and you were glad, you just hoped you won't have to see him again.
As soon as you saw your apartment, you sighed and walked inside the building. He was gone.
Opening the door, you were greeted by loud meowing. It was like your cat brought you out of the trance. He was hungry and rubbed his head against your leg.
Kefir. He was a present from Joost and the name was an idea from him too. He knew how much you liked milk, so you immediately agreed. Your little nonstop meowing little Kefir.
You put the full bag on the counter after you made sure you locked the door. That night you couldn't sleep, how could you, and all because you saw something you shouldn't. It didn't had to end this way, but he had made his choice.
How can you hurt someone, let alone kill. This was twisted. Beyond disguising. And what was worse, you didn't told that to anyone, too scared to say something to someone. But you made your choice to break up with him. It didn't make you feel any less guilty, but you had to do something, anything at this point.
And you knew that if you looked out of the window, behind curtains, you would see him here standing with a cigarette in his mouth. How he was watching you every night for the past month since you broke up.
He scared you. Joost scared you.
---
You woke up later than usual, but there was no wonder. When you went to sleep, the sun was already up. When you looked out of the window, he was no longer here.
"Are you hungry?" You asked the cat and he just meowed as you made your way to the kitchen. You put kefir granules and got ready for the day.
Then you made your way to work and after the whole day, you had to say, you had enough. All those rude people and their bizarre ideas how you could do your job better.
When you went home you couldn't help but notice certain things. He wasn't here. Normally he was right there waiting in some dark corner watching over you or going behind you in crowded streets.
You didn't think much of it, thinking he finally stopped following you around like a lost puppy. You took a deep breath and stepped inside the building and made your way to the fourth floor. As you opened the door, you knew he was there, in your home that used to be your both.
You immediately noticed, but it wasn't for your cat, because he came to greet you as soon as you opened.
You knew he was here because he didn't follow you home. It was a strange thing for him to do, but you got used to it.
"How did you get in?"
You heard his chuckle and saw him step to the light of your living room.
"I don't want you here Joost. I made that clear." You said to him feeling confident, but that didn't mean you feared him any less.
"I didn't mean to scare you that night, you know?" He admitted and made his way slowly to you.
"Do you..." You began "Do you want me dead?"
He didn't answer that, you didn't expect him to. He looked at you and after so long, you finally saw something in his eyes other than emptiness. It was like he recognised you.
"Dead?" Joost asked and tilted his head to the side. "Y/n, I don't want you dead."
"Then why do you keep doing this? Why are you scaring me? Why did you kill that guy?"
"I love you, can't you see that?"
He looked desperate and ashamed of himself. Like he didn't recognise himself too. Looking down he pulled you closer by your waist and put his head on top of yours. He squeeze your waist and then whispered.
"You don't get it, I had to do it."
"Why?"
"Because of you. For you."
Now it was your turn to be quiet. Too scared to say something. You didn't return the hug he was holding you in and he noticed. You closed your eyes as you felt them fill with tears of psychical pain and regret for someone's life they couldn't live.
"No, it was always going to end this way."
This only made him hold you closer and harder. You took a deep breath and whispered.
"It doesn't have to end this way."
---
Don't copy or translate my work. Also the picture is not mine, credit goes to owner.
A/n: idk how I should feel about this... it's not edited so... :))
#joost klein x fem!reader#joost klein x you#x reader#k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader#joost klein#joost klein x reader#justice for joost#joostice#dark#dark!joost#dark!joost klein#dark!joost klein x reader#fanfic#blurb#imagine#europa#europe#eurovision#dark romance
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You hate me because I'm the love of your life
Everyone knew you were the kook queen and Rafe was the king. And by logic, you and Rafe should love each other. But no, you hated Rafe's existence and Rafe didn't like you either. and no one ever understood this hatred you had for each other. But life continued as normal, until the day you went to the party for Topper.
"Hey Sarah, this party sucks! I think I'll go to the bathroom" you say and Sarah nods her head
You pass by the countless people who were at the party, and end up seeing Rafe Cameron... also known as your greatest Horror
"I think you want to die Y/N" Rafe says in that disgusting and sarcastic voice
"I didn't mean to fall into you Rafe! Now let me pass!" You say pushing him and going your way
"You'll regret it y/n" Rafe whispers quietly to himself .
Well, you go to the bathroom to breathe a little, the party was very busy. You wash your face and neck and touch up your makeup. But before you leave the bathroom, someone quickly enters, closing it The bathroom
"What's your problem Cameron? Did you drink a little too much?" You say, ready to leave, but he pushes you against the bathroom wall.
"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't see the way you look at me when I'm shirtless?" Rafe says, approaching you and placing his hand on your thin neck.
"Rafe, what the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone!" You say trying to free yourself but Rafe learns more.
"I hate you so much girl... you don't know how much I hate you..." Rafe whispers impulsively getting close to your face
"Oh my God...I can't believe it...You hate me because I'm the love of your life"
You say with a smile widening on your face.
"No... are you crazy? I don't like you and I never will!" Rafe says this a little shyly?
"oh come on Rafe! You think I don't know about this obsession you have with me?"
When you say that, Rafe starts to remove his hand from your throat. He was feeling exposed somehow, you were managing to make Rafe small
"that's not true...yours" Rafe tries to offend you more and faster
"What? Slut? Bitch? Rafe can talk... you love me, but your ego won't let you admit it"
You still continue talking with that satisfying smile and now approaching Rafe. But Rafe was going backwards, was he finally backing down?
"And if he loved you? Hun?" Rafe finally speaks, turning Lara around and looking, and that leaves you speechless.
"you and Rafe Cameron... I would never love anyone." You say now looking down
"To be lying... you can't think of me and you together, can you?" Rafe says, approaching you and blowing his hot breath on your face.
"Rafe... we hate each other... we can't... think about a future..." You say but Rafe interrupts you
"no! Don't run away, you said so: I hate you because you are the love of my life"
Rafe says taking your arms and holding them tight
"I...I don't understand...why do you treat me so bad?" You say looking at Rafe as if he were an abandoned puppy
"Always faulting each other, always talking about each other, but... it's all a farce"
Rafe says getting very close to your lips
"It will be?" You already speak with wobbly legs
"Yes..." Rafe speaks in a hoarse voice right next to your lips
"Kiss Me?" You say you can't take the torture anymore
Without expecting it for the second time, Rafe kisses you seriously. He looked like he was going to devour you. He kissed you like you never kissed before
"I hate you so much...." Rafe says between hot and wet kisses
#dark rafe cameron#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron oneshot#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe smut#rafecore#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron moodboard#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe x you
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this absolutely would not leave me alone, in reference to this post. @fushigurro thank u for supporting/enabling me. divider by cafekitsune. this is omegaverse, mentions of heat cycles/sex but nothing explicit. minors dni.
it had been a few days since your synced heat with satoru had ended, and though it hadn't actually lasted longer than normal, it had felt like it, neither of you able to get the kind of relief you really needed. you'd given yourselves a day to sober up and recover, and then you'd had a much dreaded conversation.
you'd been everything to each other since you'd gotten together straight out of school. in all that time, you'd never needed anyone else for anything, even able to get each other through your heats with a little help from some toys. but this had been a brutal wake up call, a reminder that there were some things you'd never be able to do for each other, no matter how hard you tried.
it was unsettling to realize, though, and the following realization that you would have to find someone else to trust in your most vulnerable moments was downright scary. a new partner couldn't be just anyone, especially not if they were going to help both of you when you needed it. in fact, there was only one person either of you could imagine trusting with that.
and so you set up a coffee date.
"you feelin' okay, baby?" satoru's gentle voice pulled you from your mental spiral, and you offered him a weak smile.
"what makes you ask?" you set your drink down on the table, unable to stomach anything because of your anxiety.
"your leg has been bouncing nonstop since we sat down." he peered at you over the tops of his sunglasses, leaning in to rest his forehead against your temple. "it's all gonna be fine, you know that, right?"
"unless he hates us for asking this of him and decides he never wants to speak to us again." you weren't expecting the laugh your words drew from him, and you pinched his side harshly. "don't laugh at me! it's not impossible..."
you could practically feel him roll his eyes at you. "he's not gonna hate us," he soothes, the faintest hint of a purr rumbling beneath his words, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "i doubt he'll say no, either. he's had a thing for you for years."
"he has not!" you turned and looked up at him, wide-eyed.
satoru cocked his head slightly, seeming genuinely surprised. "he has too! he told me once when we were drunk, before we all graduated and you and i got together. you didn't know?"
"of course i didn't know! he never said anything to me. i knew he was in love with you, though."
it was satoru's turn to look shocked. "you're lying to me."
"i am not! we all saw the way he looked at you. it was obvious."
your boyfriend seemed to pale at your words, as impossible as it was. "for how long?"
"from the very first day i met you guys. he still looks at you like that, y'know."
"who looks at satoru like what?"
suguru's voice startled both of you, and you looked up at him with burning faces. the alpha's brows pinched with concern as he sat across the table from the two of you. satoru pushed a black coffee towards him, but it went untouched as he spoke again.
"are you guys okay? you said you needed to ask me something important. is something wrong?"
you and satoru exchange a look, your omega offering you an encouraging nod.
"sort of," you sighed after a moment. "we, uh. well. our heats synced last week, and it sucked. like it was really bad."
suguru nodded, worry still painted across his features. "even with each other and..." he trailed off, glancing around as if remembering you were in a public place, and that it was probably not a great idea to talk openly about sex toys.
"yeah, even with that," you confirmed. "it was really, really miserable, and we really don't want to be caught off guard if our cycles ever sync like that again. which is why we asked you here."
now he really looked confused. "i don't think i understand."
"we need an alpha," satoru replied, his blunt nature a true blessing in that moment. "and you're the only one we trust to help us – to take care of us."
there was a beat of silence, then another. your heart began to pound, and you felt a bit sick all of a sudden. because this was it, wasn't it? your best friend outside of your partner was about to tell you both that you were disgusting simply for asking, and that he never wanted to hear from you ever again. he was—
"oh, uh... really?" there was no mistaking the flustered look on your friend's face, and that surprised you; he was usually so confident. "yeah, of course. i'm honored you trust me like that. anything you need, just let me know. i'll be there for you."
the relief that washed over you was so intense it nearly made you dizzy, and you were certain you would've collapsed if you weren't already sitting down. "you don't wanna take some time to think about it?"
he shook his head. "don't need to. if it means helping you guys, the answer's always going to be yes."
"whipped for us already, huh?" satoru teased, attempting to maintain his composure despite his face being the prettiest shade of pink.
the smile that tugged at suguru's lips was affectionate, his gaze warm as he took in the two of you across from him. "yeah," he agreed softly. "something like that."
#trying to get out of the habit of apologizing for posting things that are “outside” what i usually post so. i'm not sorry!#(is shaking & gripping the sink)#fallon's fics#cw omegaverse#tw omegaverse#satosugu#satosugu x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#nobody look at me rn idk where this came from
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Also 🍀 for the sweet angel azzi
Prompt: staying up late because you wanted to eat with them
BUT, it’s over facetime cuz they’re currently not in the same state.
-🐹
evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [open!]
─ warnings | nothing but sweet fluff and long distance, nothing too bad
"THE GAME WENT good, were you watching?" azzi's voice echoed through the speaker as she ate her dinner, her phone propped up so you could see her through the facetime call.
the hotel room was dimly lit but you could still make out her beautiful features, and of course your heart was swelling at the sight (even if it was just through a phone).
you smiled, leaning closer to the screen as if it would somehow bring you nearer to her. "of course i was watching! you were amazing out there, az. i could hardly sit still."
azzi laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "thanks, babe. it felt good to be back on the court. how was your day?"
you sighed, shifting in your seat. "it was alright. busy, as usual. but seeing you play was the highlight. i just wish i could be there in person, but you know i have classes and everything."
azzi's eyes softened, and she paused mid-bite to look at you. "i wish you were here too. it's not the same without you cheering me on from the stands but i get it, school is more important. plus, i could feel your support through the screen,"
you smiled, feeling a surge of affection. "i'm glad. i'll always be cheering for you, no matter where i am."
azzi's eyes sparkled with appreciation as she smiled. "that means a lot to me, baby."
there was a moment of silence, both of you lost in your thoughts ─ you were both exhausted but being around each other made you a little more energized. you broke it first. "so, what's the plan for the rest of the night? more celebrating?"
azzi grinned. "just dinner and then probably some sleep. we've got an early practice tomorrow. but enough about me. tell me more about your day."
you hesitated, not wanting to bore her with the mundane details, but her expectant look made you relent. you knew she enjoyed it when you talked, she liked listening to you talk about anything.
"well, let's see. class were the usual grind. but i did have a weird encounter with jasmine — i'll have to tell you about it when you get back, it's a lot. and i've been thinking about some new places we can check out once you're home."
azzi's eyes lit up as she smiled. "i can't wait. we should make a list. somewhere with good food, definitely."
"oh my god, yes. maybe a new hiking trail too? we haven't done that in a while."
"sounds perfect," she said, a contented smile spreading across her face. "i miss you, a lot."
even though it'd only been a couple of days, it was hard for both of you to be apart. you were both so intertwined with each other's schedules, it felt weird to not have each other.
you nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "i miss you too, baby. but you'll be back soon!"
"yes! and then i'll have so much time for you and we can go out to eat then go hiking in the morning so we don't feel bad," azzi smiled finished her meal and set her plate aside. "i should probably get some sleep. but i'll text you first thing tomorrow, okay?"
"okay," you frowned, not wanting to say goodbye just yet. but you knew azzi was exhausted, she deserved some sleep. "get some good sleep. i'll be thinking of you."
"and I'll be dreaming of you," she replied with a wink as you laughed and shook your head in amusement. "i love you," she drew out the love as you continued smiling, feeling giddy.
"i love you too," you copied her voice as she laughed too.
the call ended, and you stared at the blank screen for a moment, the warmth of your connection lingering despite the distance.
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#azzi fudd#azzi fudd x reader#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#wcbb#wcbb x reader#uconn#wbb x reader#wbb smut#evangeline's 2.5k celly ☆
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WHY ME?; na jaemin [smau]
17. the worst nightmare + written (after each 3 photos!)
𓂃⊹pairing: jaemin x f!reader
𓂃⊹tags: college au, enemies to lovers, smau, humour, reversed trope
𓂃⊹synopsis: he is known as the nicest guy on the faculty who gets along with everyone, well…maybe not everyone
𓂃⊹warnings: suggestive messages/topics
ignore how bad the narration might be 😭 I didn’t have enough time.
“So, Jaemin,” Y/n and Jisung’s mother called him while he was finishing preparing the table with Jisung’s help, he already had a bad feeling regarding the conversation. “Did you see that my big baby finally got a boyfriend?” She said smiling, Jaemin already knew their mother always wanted Y/n to get into a relationship. Bingo.
“Oh, they are not dating,” Jaemin clarified while trying not to sound pissed off about the topic. Although, why would he get pissed off, it’s not like he cares.
“Not yet,” their mother replied, still smiling. Jaemin loved that woman, she always treated him like a son, but this exact day he wasn’t that fond of her.
“Mom! Please don’t say that when Y/n comes,” Jisung jumped in the conversation trying to shush his own mother, something that made Jaemin appreciate him even more.
“I know I know”, she repeated, “but wouldn’t that be cute?” she asked while looking at Jaemin and completely ignoring her own son, who was pretending to vomit.
“Haechan is not cute,” Jaemin replied, trying to maintain his composure. But again, he doesn’t care if they date, does he?
“Aw, our Jaeminnie,” she screamed. “Always taking care of my kids,” their mom said while pinching his cheeks. He just smiled awkwardly.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom then,” Jaemin said, exiting the room as a way to end the conversation and forget about it forever if possible.
No later than 4 mins you came, not without praying internally Jisung wasn’t already dead because of a spider or something, since you took longer than intended.
“Mom?” you asked when you saw your mother smiling standing in your kitchen and a kinda scared Jisung next to her. Well, not more than yourself, you could already tell what the topic of the night was going to be. “What are you doing here?”
“Aw my baby! I missed you so much” she screamed, running to hug you, which you reciprocated. “I came here since it’s been long since I last saw you and I wanted to have dinner with my two babies”.
“And?” You asked, already sensing what she was going to say.
“and I also invited someone special for dinner too,” she finally said after breaking the hug, Jisung smiling awkwardly, or scared, next to her. Kill me now, you thought, knowing it was going to be your biggest nightmare these days.
“Mom, don’t tell my is Jaemin, please.” Although you could already tell it was going to be him.
“He is already here, he went to the bathroom,” Jisung replied instead, still maintaining a nervous smile, which made you even more nervous.
“But I meant someone special for you,” your mom answered. Oh yeah, exactly, why would Jaemin be special to you. Wait, you thought, no way.
“Don’t tell me is…” But you weren’t able to finish your sentence since your doorbell rang, showing your biggest nightmare, fuckass Lee Haechan. Jisung is so dead, you thought.
“Hi family!” Haechan greeted everyone, not without smirking when he saw your face. And if things couldn’t get worse, it was at that moment when Jaemin came back from the bathroom and looked confused at you two. Jisung is so so so so dead.
“Well,” you said while putting your phone down after your mother and jisung left, not without her pinching Jaemin’s cheeks and saying he should go see her soon. You still don’t know how that even happened, since when was he that close?
“It’s been long since we last talked properly, only both of us,” Jaemin said, trying to make the situation less awkward. Who would have told you two months ago that you would be awkward with Jaemin, not because you hated him, but because you wanted him…
“I don’t think this counts,” definitely not awkward at all. Both of you were still in the corridor next to the door.
“So Haechan and you, huh?” he said while getting a bit closer to you, sounding a bit pissed off. Why would he? Maybe because Haechan was his friend?
“Not you too, I would rather light myself on fire than date him” quite literally. You even thought about doing it while your mom was trying to set both of you up during the dinner. Also poor Jisung, who had to listen to all of that.
“Hey, he’s still my friend,” Jaemin joked while smirking and still getting closer to you. If he kept doing that you would jump on him and bite his head off, out of excitement, not hatred. “Is he that bad?”
“Well, he isn’t I guess” you sincerely replied, “but I don’t like him, romantically I mean.” That coming off way more awkward than you intended since Jaemin was way closer than before.
“Romantically? So,” he said still getting closer, he smelled like vanilla, of course he did. “So do you like someone?”
“Maybe?”
One second he is smirking and the next second his tongue is tangled with yours, making your heart rate increase. Maybe this is where you die. After what felt like an eternity, he pulling back from the kiss and looking at you confused, as if he wasn’t the one initiating it. However, both of you heard the sound of keys.
“Well, bye,” he blurted out as soon as he heard Jisung out of the flat, opening the door.
“What do you mean by well bye?” You screamed, but he already left half running, leaving Jisung and you confused. What the fuck just happened.
“What’s going on? He didn’t even take his jacket with him,” Jisung mumbled, but you didn’t listen to that, too busy trying to grasp the situation.
𓂃before | 𓂃next
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emergency contact — bakugo katsuki
quirk: super sonic/speed; hero name: sonic
disclaimer: using the established hero identity from my bakugo fic on wattpad lol
contents: second chance, pro heroes in their twenties
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
her whole body hurt, that was the first thing she realized when she started gaining consciousness. her eyelids felt heavy, but she willed them to open, only for her to wince and close them back immediately as a harsh light hit her eyes.
it took her a moment. she took a breath. there was a soft beeping in the background. where was she? slowly, she fluttered her eyes open again, squinting until she got used to the light. she looked around, taking in the white walls and the IV drip stand next to her.
hospital. oh.
what had happened again? she remembered the villain attack in musutafu — she’d been called in, and kirishima, mina and todorki had been at the scene, too. the villain was preaching about the downfall of heroes as usual. she didn’t remember much of the fight, except getting hit really badly in the back of the head at some point.
with her left arm, she reached up and touched the side of her head, feeling the bandages.
she sighed and let her arm fall back down next to her. she looked to the side, noticing the red button that would call the nurse. this wasn’t the first time she’d been in a hospital bed like that and it wouldn’t be the last. she knew the drill by now — she pressed the button and waited.
a nurse walked in soon after, a smile on her face. y/n recognized her from the last few times she’s been here. “oh, glad to see you’re awake, sonic! how are you feeling?”
“mostly fine,” y/n answered. “how bad was the damage this time?”
“concussion, a broken leg due to debris falling over it. some scratches and bruises, but that’s about it,” the nurse read off of her clipboard. “everything was already taken care of and healed. we should be able to discharge you by the end of the day, but you should take it easy when you get home.”
y/n nodded. “that’s good. thank you.”
the nurse nodded before she wrote something on her clipboard. “are you feeling okay for visitors?”
y/n furrowed her eyebrows at that. “visitors?” who could it be? maybe kirishima or mina decided to visit. how did they get out of the fight, anyway? and how did y/n pass out? so embarrassing!
“well, mr. dynamight—“
“mr. who?”
no. this couldn’t be. why would he be here?
“mr. dynamight. bakugo katsuki?” the nurse scratched her head. “i thought you two were friends. or at least classmates back in ua.”
friends. yeah, no. “we were. don’t let him in.”
the nurse nodded and reached for the door. “all right. i’ll let him know.”
y/n sighed and looked back up at the white ceiling. seriously, why the hell was he here? how did he know she’d gotten hurt? okay, maybe he’d heard it from kirishima or seen it on the news, but still! how did he know which hospital she was at?
“tch, she’s still tired and doesn’t know what she’s talkin’ about.” y/n’s blood ran cold at the familiar voice coming from beyond the door. “i’m going in.”
“mr. dynamight, sir—“
the nurse couldn’t stop him. the door opened and in walked bakugo katsuki, still dressed in his hero costume, bar his mask and gauntlets.
the nurse immediately looked at y/n. “i’m sorry, miss sonic, i—“
“it’s okay.” it wasn’t the nurse’s fault. it was bakugo’s annoying stubbornness, as usual.
the nurse apologized again, then excused herself and left. bakugo moved silently from the door to the left of her bed, his arms crossed in from of his chest. “how are ya—“
“the fuck are you doing here, bakugo?”
bakugo’s lips shut in an instant. he looked to the IV drip in her arm, then to her heartbeat monitor — it was beeping a bit quicker now — then back to her. “the hospital called. told me you were injured.”
y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “the hospital called you? why the hell would they? are you stalking me or something?”
bakugo grunted. “tch, speedy, you didn’t change your shitty emergency contact. you set it to me years ago, remember?”
right. “oh.”
“yeah.”
y/n looked away from him and out through the window. her view was obscured by a tree, but it was better than looking at bakugo at the moment. “why did you come, then?”
there was a sound of metal scraping on the ground. startled, y/n looked back and noticed bakugo pulling up a chair to sit next to her. it looked small under him. it was funny, but she didn’t laugh.”
“‘cuz they called me and told me you were injured.” bakugo said as he leaned on his knees. “and i saw the news. i was worried.”
y/n sighed. “bakugo, we—“
“stop calling me bakugo. you know i hate it when you call me by my last name.”
“bakugo.” she gave him a stern look. “we broke up three months ago.”
bakugo was silent. to this day, even after having calmed down, it was still weird to see bakugo this silent. “i know.”
“then you can’t expect me to act fucking normal and call you by your first name just because you decided to come to the hospital because you were worried about your ex.”
“i fuckin’ know.” bakugo groaned, running a hand through his hair.
they sat in silence for a moment and y/n’s unfocused eyes watched him as he looked at the ground. they dated for five years before they broke up. from their first year at ua, up until a few months ago. it was understandable bakugo was acting like that, really.
“do you ever think we made a mistake?”
y/n’s eyes focused and his face became clearer out of shock. she opened her mouth to answer than, no, she didn’t think so, but closed it. after thinking for a moment, she nodded. “at least once a day.”
their break up hadn’t really been spontaneous. it was building up the busier they got, and at the end, they reached the mutual decision to part ways. they were stubborn, both of them fighting for the top spots in the hero rankings, so much so that they forgot about each other. it made sense, back then.
but now, as y/n returned to the same home she’d shared with bakugo every night to a now cold, empty apartment, she was starting to think how being a top hero was just so lonely.
bakugo nodded at her answer. “yeah. me too.”
y/n moved to sit up, wincing a little as she did. despite the healing, he ribs were still sore. bakugo instinctively moved, one hand going behind her back to help her up. “careful, speedy.”
“i’m fine. they’re discharging me later, anyway,” y/n explained.
bakugo nodded, his hand lingering on her back for a moment too long before he retracted it and sat back on his chair. he ran a gloved hand through his hair. “you know, i really fuckin’ miss you, speedy.”
her heart monitor beeped faster at the words and she felt her face warm up in embarrassment. bakugo had just heard how flustered he made her — there was no backing out now.
still, she didn’t look at him. she looked at her fingers that were playing with each other. “yeah, i miss you, too, katsuki.”
bakugo’s hand reached out, catching one of hers in his. she looked back at him again, at his soft, pleading face. “can we try again? we’ve been through so much shit together and, honestly, before we broke up, i never imagined my life without you in it. but now that i actually experienced it, i realized just how shitty it is. being a hero is so fucking boring if you’re not there to run by work just to tell me a dumb joke, or to sit on the couch and watch the news and make fun of shitty hair and raccoon eyes, or bantering over who’s going to be higher in the next hero chart, or—“
she’d heard enough. leaning in, she pressed her lips on his, her hands grabbing the sides of his face. the IV drip in her arm felt uncomfortable, but she ignored it best she could as she savored bakugo’s lips, the ones she’s been missing for so long.
bakugo moved his hand to the back of her head, the other one on her back. he didn’t really pull her too close because he was scared she would fall off the bed, but he didn’t mind. the fact that she was kissing him was enough.
they pulled away not too long after — it didn’t matter that the kiss was short, there was so many more to come — and y/n smiled as she looked into his red eyes. her right thumb stroked his cheek ever so slightly. “you know, i’m higher in the rankings than you this month. i’m twenty-fourth and you’re twenty-sixth.”
bakugo chuckled, his smile unwavering. “shut up, i saw. i wanted to call you and rant to you about it. that’s only ‘cuz i had to take a week-long break after i got injured.”
y/n waved him off. “excuses, excuses. just admit i’m strong.”
“never denied it, speedy.”
y/n felt warm again. it felt so right, being with bakugo and talking with him like that. she hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed it.
“i don’t know if this is sudden, but are you going to move back in now, or are you gonna wait and see how this goes? not that i’m pressuring you or anything, i just—“
bakugo interrupted her with a peck, sealing her lips shut. when he pulled back, he gave her a nod. “i’ll move back today if i can. i’ll call shitty hair to help me with my shit. hell, i missed the bed.”
#bnha#my hero academia#my hero academy fanfiction#bakugo#bakugo katsuki#bakugo katsuki x reader#mha#bakugo x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugo fanfiction#oneshot#fanfiction#x reader#bnha fanfiction#second chance#romance#fluff#bakugo fluff#katsuki#dynamight#lord explosion murder god dynamight
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Right in front of you
summary: reader complains about their bad luck finding a guy when the guy for them is literally right there (Steve Harrington x Reader)
wc: 796
cw: mention of bad boyfriend in the past, friends to lovers speedrun, reader is a little dummy but we love them. Gender neutral, but might be implied more fem. One bad word. Steve POV more or less
a/n: Just a little blurb i found in my files, nothin to it, but the ending made me smile so i figured i'd post it
“When will it be my turn, ya know?” you rambled on to your friend, Steve. “Like, you know I’m thrilled for my friends. The girls have gone through so much, and to see them grow and learn that they deserve the best and take on love again is more than anything I could ever ask for. I’m so happy for them.”
You paused, looking down at your hands, fiddling with a stray string on your sweater.
Steve sat in the silence, waiting for you to fill it again. But he knew you. He knew you weren’t sharing the whole truth. He watched your eyebrows furrow like you were fighting with the words in your mind.
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Steve said.
You sighed. “It’s silly.”
“That’s ok.” Steve brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear. “Talk to me.”
“It’s just that I was with them through all of it. We all started in the same place. We all came from these shitty relationships, and we all worked together to heal. I worked so hard, Steve. I want you to believe me—”
“I do.”
“—When I tell you how hard I worked with these girls, I mean it. They became my everything. We became a family when I felt like I had no one.”
Steve couldn’t help but wince. It was hard hearing you talk about your past. His senses always overloaded with anger. For his dear friend he cared for more than anyone to be treated the way you were made his temperature rise. His heart pounded in his chest, but he let you continue.
“But I guess I’m just confused. You know? It’s like they’ve moved on without me, carrying on with their lives. But they were my life. Gosh, I wish you could meet them. You’d fit in so well with the whole gang, I swear.”
Again, Steve’s heart jumped. God, did he want that. For you to introduce him to your friends. Steve’s mind began to wander, thinking about the two of you traveling up to Utah together, meeting the girls that made you who you are today. He’d want to thank them individually for taking care of you. For allowing you to be comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him and allow him to love you. ‘Love you’? Oh, god. He didn’t realize.
“I’d love that,” he choked out.
“But what about me, Steve? What about me? I’m stuck in these patterns I want to get out of. I want to be independent and free. Just like them. But can I be super honest?” You looked up at Steve for the first time in this conversation.
“Of course.”
“I—I think I’m lonely. I’m really grateful that we’ve become friends because I don’t know what I would have done without you. But what do I have to do to have that special someone? I’ve put in the same work. But people aren’t looking at me like that, I guess.”
“That’s not true.”
“What? Of course, it is. How else do you explain that the only relationship I’ve been in was a narcissist taking advantage of me?”
Steve was taken aback by that. He watched your eyebrows crinkle together at the bridge of your nose, a last defense to fight the tears.
“Where’s my lineup of men then? Explain to me why I’m skirted at the bar so they can talk to Brenda, or I’m approached only so they can ask for her number.”
Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes, you know that?”
“Huh?”
“You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t even notice what’s right in front of you!”
“Oh, please. Name one guy who’s even flirted with me.”
“ME, you dumbass.”
“I, er, you, what?”
Steve didn’t waste another moment. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. It was brash, almost harsh in quality, with fervor as Steve pressed his lips against yours. He felt you settle against him, your hands reaching out to the back of his neck and hair.
Steve pulled away and looked you in your eyes. “Everything you want,” he began, “I want to be the one to give it to you. The intimacy you crave, the best friend wrapped in a man, that’s literally me. If you’ll have me, we can heal our scars together and work toward the goal of independence, one step at a time.”
“You really want that?”
“More than anything.”
This time, you pulled him into a kiss. This time, it was softer, kinder, but the passion remained.
You giggled. “And to think. I was crushing over you this whole time!”
Steve laughed. “God, you are a piece of work, you know that?”
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knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)
Chapter 5, In Which You Turn Out To be Capable of More Than You Thought
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4 (Part 2)
AO3
You had the sweetest dreams.
You lived in a beautiful mansion in a world where capitalism had fallen (which did not prevent you from living in a mansion), you no longer had to work (well, because capitalism had obviously fallen) and, most importantly, you became Raphael's one and only dark consort (you were not sure how capitalism fit into this narrative), whom he cherished and loved more than anyone, even more than the Crown above his horns.
Perched atop Raphael’s lap in the throne room, surrounded by a crowd of souls kneeling before you and begging for your mercy (including your high school bully Thomas, who once locked you up in the bathroom, and the ex who cheated on you), you suddenly heard the distinct ringtone of a Teams call. It's a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else; it could be used as a method of torture.
You made a mental note to suggest this to Raphael later on.
The call seemed downright disrespectful to your new status as the Archduchess of all Hells, so you ignored it; surprisingly, it did not stop. Thinking about how you would ask Raphael to execute whoever disturbed your bliss, you stretched out your hand to swipe the huge green button that was being projected right across the throne hall.
"Anya?" The voice on the other end was familiar, but you couldn't place it.
Your mind struggled to come to life and make sense of your surroundings.
Why were you lying naked?
What time was it?
Why did your whole body ache?
And why was there a wet patch beneath you?
To answer at least the last question, you reached down to touch the moisture between your legs, and saw thick white liquid coating your fingers in the soft morning light. You went for a sniff: smelt like a freshly burned match and salty musk.
Oh, fuck.
Okay, so Raphael wasn't big on safe sex (which probably should have been expected from someone who lived in the House of Hope). Not that you remembered asking him for protection. Not that you were able to or wanted to. The thought of him coming inside you seemed insanely hot yesterday; but now, in the clear light of day, it just seemed insane.
Don’t human women all die horribly giving birth to half-devils?
The voice on the phone called out again, "Anya, are you still there? Are you okay?"
“Yes?”, you responded hesitantly and pulled your fingers away from your nostrils.
"You're fifteen meetings late for our meeting," the voice reminded you, and you finally remembered who it belonged to.
Your supervisor. Not a bad guy, not a good guy, just a burnt out middle-aged man who never imagined himself stuck in middle management while going through a messy divorce.
"We had a meeting?" You asked, even though somewhere deep down in your foggy brain you knew very well that you did have one scheduled.
You sat down on the bed and did you best to suppress a moan: your arse was bruised raw.
“Your development talk, Anya”, your supervisor sighed. “Did you… did you just wake up? It’s fifteen past ten.”
Quick, think of a believable excuse. Your cat died? No, he knows you don't have one. Your grandmother passed? No, that would be disrespectful to her memory. You were robbed? No, then you wouldn't be sleeping so soundly...
"No, I...I didn't," you stammered, desperately trying to come up with something, anything.
"Do you want to turn your camera on?" He asked. "It helps during these talks."
No, you didn't want to turn on your camera unless you wanted to make absolutely sure he saw you stark naked - which was definitely not going to work in your favour (or maybe it would, but you didn't want to test it). You shifted on the bed (your bed made a very obvious, very loud creaking noise) and your supervisor cleared his throat.
“I am not feeling too well, sorry”, you said. “I’d rather not”.
That wasn't entirely false - between the sore arse and what felt like bite marks on various parts of your body and what the hell was that purple bruise on your thigh?
There was silence before he spoke again, "Well then...I guess we're halfway done here. Did you hear about the news?"
“The news?”, you echoed.
"You haven't checked our company website?"
Does anyone actually bother to check those?
"Mmm-hmm," You responded noncommittally.
"Okay," your supervisor sighed. "We've been acquired, and as a result, there will be some changes and layoffs."
"Oh," was all you could manage to say.
"I'm currently making a list of potential layoffs."
"Oh," you repeated, starting to understand where this conversation was going.
"Anya," he began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want to sound harsh, I have enjoyed working with you. As a friendly suggestion: it might look better on your resume if it appeared that leaving was your own decision."
Hell no, you won’t let the corpo screw you over.
“Hey, no, I want a severance package. I’ve been working for this company for three years”.
"Sure," he responded. "You are fully entitled to it. But first, we'll have to review your work activity. You know, what you did on your work computer, which websites you visited, how often you were active."
Maybe you’ll let the corpo screw you over.
“Never mind,” you surrendered. “I’ll come by today to pick up my stuff.”
“I am glad we could find a mutually beneficial decision”, your supervisor said, wished you a nice day, dropped off the call, and left you naked and pissed off.
As you got up, you felt something dripping down your legs. Wonderful, washing Raphael’s cum off the carpet sounded like the perfect start to your morning. You used your blanket to clean yourself (it would be easier to wash later) and dragged yourself to the bathroom.
On your way there, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out an exasperated laugh. The make-up from yesterday was still smeared on your face in dark trails, making you look like a freshly fired and thoroughly fucked racoon.
Sighing, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away Raphael's seed, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's make-up. Oh, you thought as you washed it all away: maybe you should have brought some of Raphael's DNA to study in the lab. Then you would have a solid proof. They also might have found a way to breed powerful cambion super-soldiers.
Anya, why do you always have to think such bullshit? Raphael is from Dungeons & Dragons, not Warhammer.
Your bruises ached even worse under the hot water.
“You know, Raphael”, you spoke to yourself as you wrapped yourself in a towel. “I start to think there might be some issues with our relationship”.
Your phone chimed with a message.
"good morning my lovely girl," it read, instantly piquing your interest.
Oh, wow. Okay, you guys might have some issues, but he is certainly kind of sweet. You were about to pick up your phone to type something as sweet back (good morning my favorite devil?), when another notification popped up.
“Did you know your Raul is one of the richest people in the country??”
Ah, damn. Your mum seemed to be in an excellent mood - why was that?
Probably because “Raul” made it to some mightiest and greatest list.
“I hope the date went well please call love mama god bless 🙏🥰”
As soon as you got yourself dried up, you were scanning the corporate website (last time you checked it when you prepared for an interview); the acquisition news was on the front page. You hastily scanned through the article.
“…was yesterday acquired by Avernus Capital AG, Zürich. The legal aspects of the transaction were handled by the Managing Partner Raul d'Avergni…”
By whom?
By whom?
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raphael! So you can remember to get me fired but a condom slips your mind? Does he even know what those are? Has he ever needed to use one?
Ah, now you understand why he hadn’t called for the whole three days. He was working hard on fucking up your life. Screw reigning over the nine hells as the Archdevil Supreme when there's a girl who spent six months after graduation hunting this job (damn this economy) to torment.
Yes, you hated your job, but it paid the bills. Your emergency fund would cover one month expenses, tops. Raphael gave you a thousand over Twitch, that was nice, but that won’t last long either. If you buy plan B and visit a gyno, that’s one hundred less, easy. You can’t ask your mother for any help, either - she could barely make ends meet as it is.
Fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps he got you fired to offer you a better job; wasn't that what he mentioned yesterday? That’s right. Your work for me is not yet done, he said. That’s it; he has another job and needs all of your free time.
You grabbed your phone to call him to confirm; and then you realized you still did not have his number, all the times he called you (which was exactly one) it was from a no caller ID.
So much for that plan. Fine, the other way, then. You fired up BG3, the save from his Sharess Caress room.
The sight of his avatar and the inviting huge bed behind him stirred a pang of longing in you. "Hey, I miss you," you murmured to the screen, "Could you call me, please?"
“Give me the Crown that dominates the elder brain”, Raphael answered, not a line off the scripted talk.
“I already did that and now you are here. What’s the next task?”.
“A crown for a hammer, a deal of a lifetime”, Raphael ignored you and carried on with his talk with Tav.
The devil didn't toss you any curveballs, no ad-libbed lines or cheeky glances that shattered the fourth wall; just the same old scripted scenarios you'd already seen and played through. You jumped between saves, but nada. Your mum called you three or four times in the meanwhile. You shot her a short message that everything was okay (everything wasn’t), and you’ll call her later.
Next, you scrolled through the missed discord notifications, filled with images and screen caps of Raphael and other Tavs, hundreds of other Tavs, elves, tieflings, humans, a wide gallery of his bloody harem (especially the modded Durges got under your skin) from the new romance scene Larian dropped. You were very tempted to tell them all about your night with Raphael and how it was the best sex you've ever had and on an unrelated note, do all women really die if they give birth to cambions?
But then again, you’ve been called crazy enough lately. Better to delete the whole app.
Who has time to chat in discord? Definitely not people with full-time jobs.
…Right.
In the afternoon, you decide to go to your office in the center of the city to pick up the few things they still had and hand in the things you still had . Company badge, laptop, chargers; three years' work fit into a cardboard box. Your last pay cheque will arrive on Friday, they said.
Thank you for your hard work and dedication, and for making us a euro while we give you a cent and go get lost. Interviewing for them took a whole day; leaving them took half an hour.
The office was half empty; the few who were there were preparing to celebrate the grand occasion of being taken over by Avernus Capital (wouldn’t have happened without you, by the way, and you doubted that the new owner would be that nice). You mumbled a few hellos and how do you dos, but you realised (not that you ever thought otherwise) how little you cared for these people, and how little they cared for you.
The only one you really wanted to talk to you couldn't be reached.
Wait, but Raphael's office was only two underground stations away, you thought. If you can't call, maybe you can pay him a visit and congratulate him in person on his great acquisition.
Raphael's office, a multi-storey eighteenth-century building with the golden letters D'Avergni & Partners plastered all over it, looked very unwelcoming from the outside; inside it had all the warmth of a mausoleum. Dark grey walls loomed around you, somewhere between an art gallery and a prison cell. Art Deco furniture with sharp angles filled the space as floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold shards of light. You were stopped dead at the reception desk.
The receptionist's lips curved into a polite smile as you approached.
She actually seemed nice, not the snotty bombshell type usual at such kinds of places; she had a tired smile and dark bags under her make-up.
"I would like to see Raul d'Avergni," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
She looked at you as if you had entered a church and asked for a personal audience with God. Doubt gnawed at your resolve, but retreating now would be even more awkward.
Some young men, sipping coffee from their plastic cups next to an espresso robot, looked at you curiously through their thick-rimmed glasses.
"Good morning!" chirped the receptionist, regaining her composure. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Ugh, no..." you replied, trying to sound confident. “I'm his (what, what, what?)… his girlfriend, actually”.
Brilliant.
She arched her eyebrows slightly, looking at your "Astarion approves" badge on your rucksack, which had seen quite a bit of action in its life (the summer festivals!), then at your "nique la police" T-shirt. Yes, you didn't give much thought to what you were wearing, but then again, you weren't planning to visit Raphael when you came here.
The receptionist did her best to remain professional, but you could sense that she was very doubtful about your statement.
"I am afraid Mr. d'Avergni is in meetings all day today," she offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could try calling him if it is a private matter?"
Yeah, great idea. Your cheeks flushed as embarrassment washed over you. Of course his girlfriend would have his number.
"You do have his private number, don't you?" she continued, her smile unwavering.
Now you felt like a complete idiot. The girl was obviously too tired to make fun of you, but the stares and whispered giggles of the posh idiots behind your back were not nice.
“Sure I do," you blurted out. "Just still couldn't reach him for some reason and it’s pretty urgent. Anyway, just let Raul know I stopped by. My name is Anya. Anya Berger."
"Of course," she replied in that 'not-a-chance' tone. "Have a nice day, Mrs Berger."
You retreated with your dignity in tatters and headed for the exit. What on earth possessed you to come here? You could have just as easily gone to the Microsoft headquarters and said you brought Bill Gates some home-made pancakes, and by the way, where was he?
Fuck.
As you made your way out, you heard the young man with framed glasses murmur to his coworker, "Such bullshit." You couldn't help but eavesdrop. "I've seen the birds Raul brings to the parties and they are top-notch. Not some..."
You stopped in your tracks. Normally, you were not the scandalous type (you were a people pleaser, if anything), but if the world wanted to treat you like a doormat, you would at least bark back.
“Not some what?”, you asked before he would finish the sentence.
"Oh, my apologies, miss. I wasn't talking to you. It was just a conversation with my colleague," he responded with a saccharine smile. All these guys sported slicked-back hairdos, boxy glasses and Patagonia vests. Your socks had more personality than these fucks.
“You were talking about me, you Patrick Bateman knock-off. So, what did you want to say?”
His faux-polite smile vanished in an instant.
"Wow, okay”, the guy sneered. “What did I want to say? In a completely unrelated conversation, I wanted to say that giving a drunk blowjob on a Tuesday night doesn't make someone anyone's girlfriend."
“You know what he will do with you if I ask him to?”, you said, your fists clenched.
You did realise how much of a cunt you sounded, but Raphael burned a guy’s mouth for calling him a two pump chump; surely he can burn this guy for being a jerk to you, too.
There should be some benefit in being Devil’s special little mouse, right?
The guy just scoffed at your threat, small drops of coffee landing on your face. His coworker looked embarrassed and quickly looked away.
"Oh, I don't know," the guy retorted, "Why don't you call Mr. d'Avergni and ask him to fire me? Oh wait… do you really have his number?"
You couldn't come up with a clever response, so your anger gave you a bad one.
“I hope a damn bus runs you over”, you grumbled under your breath.
For a split second, you found yourself hoping that very scenario would unfold. That some rogue city bus would burst through the wall and flatten him. Once wasn’t enough; it’d reverse and do it again for good measure.
Alas, no such luck.
The security at the door started to pay attention, but you didn't want to cause any more of a scene.
You chose to rise above (not that you had any choice) and strutted away.
"Mr. d’Avergni is not going to call you back, nut job," the guy called after you. "He's way out of your league."
Your fingers clenched around the straps of your rucksack, knuckles white as you retreated.
The moment you left the posh building behind, you felt terrible. In an attempt to make yourself feel a little better, you grabbed a subway sandwich with some extra ham and a sugar bomb coffee from Starbucks, but it did nothing to improve your mood. You found a spot on the steps of the library and sat down to eat and brood everything over.
Let's look at the cold, hard facts. You lost your job, that's one thing. You might be pregnant with a devil's spawn that'll tear you apart on its way out, that's two. You've only saved enough money to get by, that's three. And on top of that, some yuppie jerk ridiculed you.
That's four. On the plus side... on the plus side...
Well, you had the best sex of your life last night (by a large, large margin). Just thinking about that orgasm made you dizzy. And that kiss. His lips. His hazel eyes. The way Raphael looked in a waistcoat with a cigar. The way he looked at you.
…yeah.
You stared into the distance, catching the outline of a Catholic cathedral out of the corner of your eye. A thought occurred to you then; Raphael had been so irked by your cross. Going to an actual church will probably make Raphael jealous of the other Big Guy with the magical powers (even though he hadn’t demonstrated them for at least some centuries) that he might actually come out and talk to you.
You wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and got up.
The cathedral door, huge, twice your size, seemed to be closed. In the old days, you would have just walked away; it was clear you weren't welcome. But now, with all the rules and logic thrown out the window, you pushed against it and, lo and behold, it did open for you.
At first glance, the cathedral seemed devoid of life. There is something utterly captivating about an empty cathedral, as there is about all things that are not supposed to be empty. It was a beautiful church; no doubt about that. Obscenely rich, too, gold gilded altars and towering stained glass windows that painted kaleidoscopic patterns on cold marble floors. Marble statues of angels stood sentinel along the walls. Why do they always have these judgemental looks on their faces? Sinner, sinner, sinner.
I am; so fuck off.
Far richer than any church should be, and yet the first humble wooden box that caught your eye was "DONATIONS WELCOME".
As you navigated towards the altar (a good half-minute journey across the vast nave), you discovered you weren't alone after all; an elderly pastor dozed in his throne-like chair and a choirboy leafed through sheet music by the monstrous organ pipes.
"Lord Almighty," the pastor creaked as he looked at you. "How did you get in?"
"The door?" you said, gesturing behind you.
He blinked twice.
"I was sure I had locked it. Oh, my memory. Getting old is no fun, child, I can tell you that."
The pastor was one of the types desperately trying to pass themselves off as your friend.
"Should I go or..." you asked, not really wanting to go anywhere.
The moment you stepped through the door of the church, you felt like you were crossing worlds again; the mundane real world was behind the door, and the world where interesting things happened was right there.
"Or no... Please stay," said the priest. "If you're here, it must be God's will. We don't turn anyone away. It's not like we've had many newcomers lately."
That might have something to do with being kid fiddlers, you thought, looking at the choirboy in the white and red outfit - fourteen, fifteen at the most - but you said nothing and came closer.
"And what brings you to the house of God, my child?" The priest's smile was warm and inviting. "Would you like to make a confession?"
No, no, absolutely not.
“Or, no”, you chuckled nervously. “No, Father, I wanted…”
(to piss off the devil by coming to the church)
“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”
The choir boy looked up in interest.
“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”
The choir boy looked up in interest.
"The devils?" the pastor asked incredulously, rubbing the dust off his glasses. "There is but one; you probably mean demons. What about them?"
"Just, ugh... Say, I am haunted by one. Ah, no, you are haunted by ghosts; possessed, then. What would be the procedure?"
You didn't really know what you were asking for. You didn't really believe that there was a step-by-step guide to getting rid of a devil in your bed, especially if you invited him, especially if you liked him very much.
The priest put his hand on his belly and laughed, the old wheezing laugh of a man with a heart condition. God, it smelt like incense in here; such a suffocating smell, as if it was meant to dull any common sense.
"My child," he said, putting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "The Church may have its doctrines, but the idea of demons is simply a metaphor. A representation of our transgressions, our weaknesses."
He laughed a little more and then told you very gently, carefully, as if you were mentally deficient:
"Demons are not real. They are metaphors, allegories".
Having heard all your life that the Devil is watching, the Devil is waiting, and now all of sudden he is not real, and you were pretty sure he had fucked you raw yesterday.
Very helpful, Father. You suddenly felt an urge to bring forth the Antichrist just to spite the entire Catholic Church.
The cathedral door groaned in protest as it swung open once more. You looked over your shoulder.
The man entering the cathedral was the last person who should be treading on consecrated ground.
"Then who the hell is that, Father?" you muttered under your breath.
"Oh, my dear friend!" replied the priest with the broadest of smiles. "What a joy to see you!”
Raphael's attire was nearly identical to the first time you saw him in the cafe: a three-piece suit with a subtle shift in color, now a deep navy. A bit of a dated look of a wheeler and dealer in smoke-filled rooms; something very much “Mad Men” about him.
"Darling, you claimed not to be religious," Raphael smiled at you as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. "But look where I find you."
"Well, you're also the last person I would expect to see in a church," you replied.
"Why is that?” The priest asked. “This man has done more for the Church than any other, my dear child!"
They embraced, the priest and the businessman, like good old friends. Well, you always knew that the Church was in cahoots with the Devil, but not so literally. You shook your head at the hypocrisy of the Church, Raphael, and the way things were done in general.
"You exaggerate, Flavio," said Raphael. "Besides, it's my pleasure and duty to contribute to my community. I assume you've already met, but let me introduce you anyway - Anya, my paramour".
Raphael gestured to you. Better tell your colleagues that, you thought, since they doubted it so much. He should also find this guy in the glasses, introduce you to him and then fire him immediately (and have him run over by a bus while he was on his way to collect his things). In fact, that was now your main requirement for staying his little mouse.
"Blessed be, I'm ecstatic for you both," the priest gushed, barely containing his excitement. "Praise the Lord that you are finally doing better, Raul. It's about time..."
Raphael gave him a very cold smile and interrupted with a slight raise of his hand.
“Dimmi, hai preparato i documenti che ti ho chiesto? Il fisco sta facendo dellle indagini”.
"Haha!” the priest laughed. “La tua ragazza è venuta a chiedermi dei diavoli, forse avrei dovuto indicarle l'ufficio delle imposte".
Their conversation dove into rapid Italian, leaving you in the dust. It was rude but precisely their intention. Your attention wandered from them and across the hauntingly beautiful church interior, finally resting on the choir boy standing in the shadows.
He looked very pale. The poor guy was scared, scared shitless. His lips moved soundlessly; words stuck in his throat like swallowed stones. Tracing his petrified stare, your own eyes landed on the towering wall of the church.
The shadow Raphael was casting was not human; wings unfurled from its back and double horns crowned its head. It looked both eerie and beautiful in the soft candlelight. A part of you admired it for its artistic potential; this could be inspiration for some haunting fanart.
Wait a second.
“Do you see it too?” You mouthed silently to the choir boy who nodded frantically, sweat on his forehead.
A surge of relief washed over you - finally someone else shared your madness. But before you could reach out to him, he darted away into the ink-black abyss of the back room. Raphael's touch on your hand halted any thought of following him.
“Ah, pay him no heed,” dismissed the priest nonchalantly. “The boy’s mind is somewhat...disturbed.” He quickly clarified with an awkward laugh: “Not that we judge here – all are welcome under God's roof.”
Even the Devil himself, it seemed.
Your gaze returned to Raphael and then flickered towards the pastor; he either couldn't see or chose to ignore the monstrous shadow of his parishioner.
Or perhaps, he did see it and was merely delighted to meet his true master.
"Take all the time you need, Flavio," Raphael said, his hand dismissive as he sent the pastor scurrying. "We're in no rush."
The priest melted into the shadows of a side corridor, leaving you alone with the Devil in God's house. If Raphael nudged you back just a fraction more, your body would be flush against the cold stone altar.
You found the idea very intriguing.
"Our little escapade last night was quite... memorable, wouldn't you agree?" His fingertips traced a path along your cheekbone. "Did you come here seeking salvation from your sins?"
"Sins? No," you replied coyly. "There are other things that trouble me... Like how I lost my job because of you."
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “And how exactly did I manage such a feat?"
"Well, my company was acquired by yours and I was restructured away."
A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this. "So, you were employed by Tenebris? That is an unfortunate twist of fate." He paused before continuing, "Did you enjoy working for them?"
"Not particularly," you admitted, "but it paid my bills and kept me fed."
He smiled, his touch lingering on your skin. "And what price tag did they put on keeping you pliant?"
"Two thousand two hundred euros net”.
And sixty euros. Plus a free travel pass and a discount at a gym you never went to. Plus a yearly bonus!
This revelation seemed to snap him out of his trance-like admiration of you.
"A month?" His tone held an edge of horror and for once, it felt good to see him rattled.
You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. His gaze was filled with genuine sympathy. It wasn't such a terrible salary - it was above the country's average after all!
"I see," he murmured. "This explains your living situation. My dear Anya, don't let anyone under-value you; your time is worth far more than that. As for your current predicament - and I confess to having contributed to it - I will make amends."
With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain leather wallet. You couldn't resist taking a look yourself; there was a government ID card, a driver's licence and several other cards you couldn't identify. He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it over.
"I'll let my banker know you're authorized," he said. “He will contact you with regards to security details”.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," you quickly interjected, pride sparking in your chest. "I can fend for myself."
"Don’t you ever say no to me," Raphael warned with a playful edge to his voice as he pulled you closer into his arms. "It won't end well."
His jesting tone didn't quite mask the threat in his words, but you couldn't help but grin. Whatever he says, the very way he says it is just so nice.
"I'd rather have a job," you said, not sure if you were actually that eager to get back into the corporate grind.
"Then I shall arrange one for you," he grinned. "A prestigious position under a very demanding superior. It will keep you very, very occupied."
You were pretty sure that position was not what you went to college for. Then again, didn't he say yesterday that he had a job for you?
"Consider it limitless," Raphael added nonchalantly while your fingers traced the cool metal of the credit card. "If you manage to find its limit, consider me thoroughly impressed."
Did he want you to splash out on new clothes and the like? But there were more pressing matters at hand. Your mum had just cleared her towering credit card debt and was in need of some expensive dental work. The local cat shelter was on the brink of closure and rent was due.
"I actually wanted to help my mum out a bit, if that's okay, she's, ugh"... you started, rolling the credit card in your hands.
"Anya," Raphael interrupted sternly. "You shall have whatever you wish for.”
You nodded and looked into his eyes, remembering the pleasure of lying under him yesterday and how much you wanted to do so again.
"About last night," you said. "Should I take the morning-after pill..."
Raphael shook his head in disbelief.
"You Catholic girls... No need for that considering our activities last night, but even if there was...I've always envisioned having a family but never found the right woman."
It's such a stupid cliché, you thought, as your stomach fluttered and you let him lean in for a kiss.
But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he really meant it. He had such a horrible life in hell. Maybe you were the first one…
…the actual first one, the one…
Right . You still don't want to die in childbirth, however flattering Raphael’s words might be. If you pay for Plan B with his credit card, will he see it? Nah, better use your own.
"...right," you murmured against his mouth, then remembered what else was bothering you. "And could you please tell your colleagues that we are together?".
Were you even together, you wondered in sudden fear, but Raphael nodded:
"I'll make it very much known, if that's what you wish for."
Your heart pounded in agreement. The more people knew, the more tangible it felt.
As Raphael's lips melted against yours, you glanced at his shadow on the wall and smiled; he must have thought you were looking at the confessional, for apparently the horned outline of his own shadow was not bizarre to him.
"Would you like to confess? I could absolve you of all sins" Raphael whispered in your ear, his hand slowly but surely tracing the full curve of your arse, still sore from his tail-whipping. "I am afraid you have to commit them first, though”.
He gave it a light squeeze and you yelped; he seemed to revel in the sound.
"We're in the sacred house," you blushed, squirming under his very bold advances and enjoying them very much.
"Indeed we are," Raphael concurred, his hands yanking you into the shadowy Catholic confessional, shoving you in first. The image of him cloaked in his holy robes flashed in your mind and a giggle bubbled up at the sheer audacity of it all. ���What better place for blasphemy?”
The cabin was barely big enough for the two of you, dimly lit and very narrow; meant for one person only, the other chamber remained empty, separated only by a small window. The smell of old wood and incense filled your nostrils as he closed the door behind you.
The last time you went to confession, you were a teenager and the priest was so old and ugly that no dirty thoughts crossed your mind; but now you suddenly realised that there was no hotter place on earth.
Raphael's lips brushed your earlobe, his stubble against your cheek, "Kneel before me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Show me how remorseful you are for cavorting with the Devil."
You weren’t sorry.
Not one bit.
Without hesitation or second thoughts, just like you had before the chair yesterday, you sank to your knees in front of him. Something told you that this will become a familiar position for you in the days to come.
The moment your face was against his groin, Raphael undid his pants. His cock sprang out, large, reddish and throbbing; even better than you had imagined. You couldn't help but wrap your hands around it, almost in disbelief that this thing was so real and so eager for your mouth. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you licked it off, savouring the salty and musky taste.
Raphael gasped above you, his body tense with pure lust. Your thighs clench together in excitement and you feel the soaked panties stick to your pussy as you feel him guide your head towards his cock.
“Repent, you little sinner”, Raphael muttered, his voice thick with lust. "Plead for your redemption."
Judging by his state, he should be the one pleading.
You teased him with slow, deliberate licks, the tip of your tongue tracing his frenulum up and down (he loved it). You nuzzled your cheek against his rigid shaft, a purr of satisfaction escaping your lips as you lavished it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each vein was a roadmap for you to follow, every inch of his cock kissed and licked with a fervour that bordered on reverence.
"Enough," he said. "I want to see the depth of your remorse".
Your tongue slid over the top of his head and your lips followed, parting as you slowly took him into your mouth. Raphael moaned and you echoed him, your voice pulsing against his shaft, the church walls echoing the unholy litany. You sucked his cock greedily, desperately, drawing him into a warm, needy vacuum, and the harder you tried, the wetter you became.
You wanted to give Raphael the blowjob of his millennium; you gave everything to serve him, saliva slicking down his shaft, down your chin, down your t-shirt, as every muscle in your mouth worked hard for his pleasure. The world around blurred into nothingness; all you could focus on was the dark thatch of hair framing his groin and the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of you.
No one ever wanted to suck him off as much as you did, as deep and sloppy and messy as you did. You liked the scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sound of him; everything about him; you’d love to suck him dry.
“Keep going”, Raphael let out a moan of such desperate pleasure it could be pain. "Dare to stop and I promise you'll taste hellfire."
As if you had any intention of stopping; this was an act of worship you could perform for eternity.
You glanced up; he was sweated, chestnut locks clinging to his forehead, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his face, and you felt more powerful than ever in your life. He tugged his necktie loose and opened the collar, his breathing coming out harsh and shallow. He was at your mercy; at the mercy of your tongue and throat.
Raphael bucked his hips, desperate to thrust in your mouth, and you let him take control; let him grab and hold your head while you simply hang in his grip, pliant and passive, as his cock jerked in and out. He went at it with such ferocity as if he hadn’t fucked for months; which you very well knew not to be true.
Gag reflex kicked in, your body threatening to revolt, and you repressed it with all the will you had, tears gathering in your eyes, and with each move of his hips it became more and more challenging. Thankfully, his bucking became more desperate; your mouth clamped down harder around his cock, and you let your tongue run up and down his shaft.
You felt hot jets of liquid gush against your throat as Raphael cried out, his body shivered and he leaned forward as he came, and you felt stupid happy. A larger bit of his cum dribbled straight down your throat, the rest pooled in your mouth around his cock.
“Swallow”, Raphael said, his voice deeper, rougher now. "Take all of me."
He was not going to pull out, not until every drop of him was inside you, so you made two very deliberate gulps, rolling the slight bitterness of his release on your tongue before you swallowed it all down.
Then you looked up at him like a starving animal - hungry for more. Your fingers carefully gathered the stray droplets of his cum and you greedily licked them off. As a final gesture, you kissed the tip of his cock, to which he cursed under his breath; something in Italian; whichever it was, it sounded hot.
You grinned, licking your lips, so proud of yourself.
"You are divine," Raphael said as he pulled you up by your hair, pressing you hard against the confessional wall before claiming your lips in a rough kiss – tasting himself on them. "Divine. You are a treasure. I cannot believe my own luck. I cannot believe…”
In that moment, if he had told you he loved you, you would have believed him without hesitation.These very words were on the tip of your tongue but you chose to channel it all into the kiss.
The priest's footsteps echoed through the church, amplified by the silence.
"Li ho presi," he happily announced.
Raphael hastily adjusted his clothing, looking genuinely embarrassed for a brief moment. The two of you stumbled out of the confessional, not exactly gracefully.
From the pastor's expression, you could tell he understood what had happened between you and Raphael in the confessional. Your faces were flushed and your hair was disheveled from his hands tugging and pulling on it. Your damp chin, which you hastily wiped with your sleeve, only made things more obvious.
“...Raul," Flavio chided with a tone heavy with disapproval. "I still hope to wed you in this very church, but you're making it exceedingly difficult."
His eyes didn’t even glance at you; apparently, any attempt at salvation or reprimand was wasted on you now.
"I donate millions to this church,” Raphael retorted dismissively, dusting off imaginary lint from his shoulders. "If you want others to overlook certain things, you should be prepared to do the same."
The Father raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over some documents to Raphael.
With that, the audience was over.
The angel statues glared down at you with undisguised contempt; particularly the one clutching a sword. That’s exactly why people turn to devils, you judgemental winged pricks on high horses, you thought. You rolled the aftertaste of devil's cum on your tongue and thought that going to heaven was definitely not in your near future.
Exiting the church, you were met by two armed men standing guard at the doors. For a moment, you thought you were being apprehended for lewd conduct in public. Raphael's security, you realized.. Of course he had security. Both looked like dark, looming, emotionless twin shadows. What were they really? Cambions? Orthons? Surely no one could truly harm him?
You clutched closer to Raphael, his lips brushing your forehead as he attended another phone call.
“Mamma mia,” he blurted out mere moments after he picked up, and a chuckle escaped you at how stereotypically Italian he sounded. You hadn't realized that was an actual phrase they used. His furrowed brows and concerned tone quickly sobered up the mood though, "What happened? Where? Was it on Main Street?"
He looked genuinely troubled and you offered silent comfort by intertwining your fingers with his. He responded with a reassuring squeeze.
“One of my juniors got into a...”, he told you as soon as he had hung up. “Into some macabre road accident”.
Hit by a bus, you realized with a jolt but kept your silence.
You had to witness it yourself.
Without a word, you followed Raphael to the crash scene, the wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances echoing in your ears. Security trailed along behind, all of you making your way through the gathering crowd.
The sight that greeted you was both mundane and horrifying, in a way that only real life could be. The bus stood askew, its once deep blue body now painted with crimson streaks. And there, on the cold pavement, was...splattered…what was left of a person.
"I don't know what happened," an older Asian man sobbed nearby, his words falling on deaf ears. "I swear I've been driving this thing for twenty years, I swear I was not drunk..."
The policewoman stood tall and stern above him, her arms crossed in a way that made it clear she had already formed her judgement. Some other kind soul actually offered him an anti-shock blanket. Some less kind souls were taking pictures of their phones. News reports were arriving, too.
This poor man probably had a family to support. What would happen to him now?
You could handle all the exaggerated violence and gore on television, but you absolutely could not watch the man sprawled out on the pavement in real life; or at least what was left of him. It reminded you of the cherry pudding from the evening before. You could see his broken glasses scattered haphazardly on the ground and tears welled up in your eyes.
He was a jerk, sure, but he was also mortal, like you. Now he lay dead, wrapped in plastic sheets, and it could have easily been you.
Where was he now? Did Raphael claim his soul?
Did you cause his death?
You didn't mean for it to happen. Well, maybe you did, but...
“Don’t look, piccola,” Raphael murmured in your ear, his hand shielding your eyes. “You fainted over a cherry pudding once; this is by far worse. Damn it! My youngest and most promising. Just twenty-seven years old and newly engaged. An absolute tragedy.”
The same age as you.
"I'm sorry... he was so rude to me," you choked out between sobs. "I didn't think..."
“Anya, please, it's none of your fault,” Raphael’s voice softened. “Just the cruelty of fate; an accident. We cannot be held responsible for such misfortunes”.
“No?”, you asked with a faint hope.
You were not a bad person, even if you were fucking the devil; in fact, you were going to splurge his credit card on all the animal shelters and children battling cancer to make up for what you had just did. You were not a bad person.
You were not a murderer, no, no, no.
“No,” he repeated and then a slight smile, completely inappropriate to the moment, touched his lips. “Except when very much are responsible; unless we made it happen.”
Raphael’s words made you flinch slightly but he maintained his hold on you.
Yeah, well, you did that, you wanted to say, I did nothing, I only wished for it.
“The driver must have been under the influence,” he continued . “I cannot conceive any other reason for running over a pedestrian at a red light.”
You breathed out. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, burned rubber and the scent of blood; metallic smell of death.
“Oh, you look rattled, poor thing, look at those tears”, he cooed and offered you a handkerchief with his initials on it. “Anya, love, my apologies, but I have to attend to this immediately. There’s going to be press, rumors that we work people to death that’s why he was not looking around. I need to be there for my company”.
For the company?
“…And for his family, of course”, Raphael added as if reading your thoughts. “That’s his fiance over there, I suppose. Oh, take her away, you morons…”
There she was, the woman in a suit, wailing like a banshee, as somebody tried to hold her close and hug her. What she had seen just now she would never, ever forget.
Raphael held both your shoulders and rotated you to face him.
“You.. you know what? Go shopping, distract yourself a bit. Then call my driver to take you to my place. We'll spend the evening together”.
His words were met with a hollow nod from your side. You cast another side glance at the accident, and he gently turned your face towards him again.
"And learn when to look away," Raphael murmured, punctuating his advice with a soft kiss on your lips, "It's an essential survival skill."
#bg3 raphael#bg3#raphael bg3#raphael the cambion#fanfic#raphael x tav#raphael x player#raphael x reader#meta#knock knock
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Day 2 - Sophie Schmidt x Houston Dash Teen Reader
Summary: R is the Dash's new signing and ends up struggling with their mental health due to the criticism and hate.
WC: 1,716
TW: Bad Mental Health, ED, Self Harm through overtraining
You knew it might happen. Everyone told you it was going to happen, but you didn't believe it would happen to you. You were the best college player, the #1 overall draft pick. You were destined for greatness. The path to the top was clear, and you were ready to conquer the world.
From the moment you were a child, you had a soccer ball at your feet. Your parents liked to joke that you were dribbling before you could walk. Soccer was your first love, your constant companion, and as you grew older, it became clear that you had a rare gift. You led your high school team to state championships, earned a full scholarship to a top-tier university, and dominated the college league. Scouts raved about your agility, your vision on the field, your uncanny ability to read the game several steps ahead. It was no surprise when you were the #1 overall draft pick. The world was at your feet.
But when you finally stepped onto the professional stage, it was a different world. You thought you would be able to keep up, but you were wrong. The players were so much stronger than you, faster than you. You just couldn’t keep up. It felt like you were running in quicksand while everyone else was gliding on air. The NWSL was a whole new level of intensity and skill, and you quickly realized that the gap between college and professional play was much wider than you had ever imagined.
Your first game was a blur of fast-paced action and missed opportunities. You felt out of place, like an imposter wearing the wrong jersey. Your touches were heavy, your passes imprecise. The crowd's excitement turned to frustration as the game wore on, and the final whistle was a relief rather than a victory. Your team lost, and the finger-pointing began almost immediately.
The criticism started to pour in almost immediately. You’d open social media, and all the comments on posts about you or the game were just nasty critiques. They said you were a bust, that you couldn't hack it. The fans blamed you for the team not playing well, and the weight of their disappointment felt like an anchor dragging you down. It was as if the world had turned against you overnight. Every mistake was magnified, every misstep scrutinized. You were living under a microscope, and the pressure was suffocating.
You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that it was just part of the adjustment period. But the comments ate away at your confidence. You started to dread checking your phone, knowing that it would be filled with negativity. Your teammates offered words of encouragement, but even their patience began to wear thin as the losses piled up.
One day after a particularly grueling practice session, you sat in the locker room with your head in your hands. Your teammate, Sophie, plopped down beside you. "Hey, don't let those idiots get to you," she said, her voice firm but kind.
You sighed. "It's hard not to. They think I'm the reason we're losing."
She nudged you with her shoulder. "We win as a team, and we lose as a team. You're not alone in this."
But you felt alone. You hadn't been called up to international duty, so during the break, you were going to do anything and everything to get better. While most of your teammates left to represent their countries or take a well-deserved rest, you stayed behind. You had something to prove, not just to the fans and the team, but to yourself. You went to extremes, cutting down food intake, going to the gym more often, training far more than anyone else. It was dangerous, but you were convinced it would make you better.
Your diet became increasingly restrictive. You counted every calorie, measured every portion, convinced that shedding a few pounds would make you faster, more agile. You pushed yourself to the limit in the gym, lifting heavier weights, running longer distances. Training sessions became grueling marathons of self-imposed drills and exercises. The world outside the training ground became a distant memory; you were consumed by the need to improve.
One evening, you were alone in the gym, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath after a particularly intense session. Sophie walked in. She watched you for a moment, concern etched on her face.
She had watched you closely, her concern growing as she saw the changes in you. You were leaner, yes, but also gaunt and tired. Your performances in training were erratic; moments of brilliance followed by periods of exhaustion.
"Hey," she called out. "What are you still doing here? It's late."
You straightened up, forcing a smile. "Just getting in some extra work. Gotta stay sharp, you know?"
She frowned. "You've been here every night this week. Are you sure you're not overdoing it?"
"I'm fine," you lied. "Just dedicated."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue. "Alright. Just...take care of yourself, okay?"
You nodded, and she left. But her words lingered. Deep down, you knew she was right. But the fear of failure, the fear of letting everyone down, drove you to keep pushing.
When the games started again, you were definitely stronger. You were finally putting in good performances, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope. It reinforced your sick ideas. You thought the extreme measures were working, so you pushed even harder. You went to such extremes that your body couldn’t sustain itself.
The day you collapsed on the field was seared into your memory with painful clarity. It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the kind that made the stadium lights sparkle with an almost magical quality. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, their energy a palpable force as they cheered and chanted. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. Today, you thought, you would prove everyone wrong.
The game started with a blistering pace. You felt strong, your movements fluid and precise. You were everywhere on the pitch, intercepting passes, making crucial tackles, and threading perfect through balls to your teammates. The crowd roared with approval every time you touched the ball, and for a while, it felt like everything was falling into place.
But as the game wore on, a strange sensation began to creep over you. It started as a slight dizziness, a feeling you tried to shake off. You pressed harder, ignoring the warning signs. You sprinted back to help in defense, your vision blurring slightly as you tracked the opposing forward. You managed to intercept the ball and sent it forward with a powerful kick, but as you did, your legs felt like they were made of lead.
The second half began, and the intensity only increased. The fans were on their feet, the noise in the stadium reaching a fever pitch. You felt a surge of adrenaline and pushed yourself even harder, determined to make an impact. But with each passing minute, the dizziness grew worse. Your muscles screamed in protest, your lungs burning as you struggled to catch your breath.
Then it happened. One moment, you were sprinting down the wing, the next, the world tilted and spun. You stumbled, your legs giving out beneath you. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you hit the turf hard. The noise of the stadium faded into a distant hum, and darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.
The next thing you knew, you were lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. The game had stopped, players from both teams gathering around you, their faces masks of concern. Sophie was there, her voice urgent but calm. "Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?"
You tried to respond, but your body felt heavy, unresponsive. The medics arrived, lifting you onto a stretcher, the world around you a blur of noise and color. You could see the worry etched on Sophie's face, her hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "You're going to be okay."
In the hospital, you were surrounded by doctors and nurses, their voices a jumble of medical jargon. Sophie stayed by your side, refusing to leave. When the doctors finally left, she pulled up a chair and sat beside you, her eyes filled with worry.
"You scared us out there," she said softly. "What were you thinking, pushing yourself so hard?"
Tears welled up in your eyes. "I just...I wanted to be good enough. I didn't want to let everyone down."
She took your hand, her grip firm and steady. "You don't have to do this alone. We're a team, remember? We look out for each other. You need to take care of yourself, first and foremost."
You nodded, the reality of your situation sinking in.
The next few days were a blur of medical tests and recovery plans. The doctors confirmed what Sophie had suspected: you were severely malnourished and overtrained. Your body had been pushed to its breaking point. The news hit you hard, but it also brought a sense of clarity. You realized just how far you had gone in your quest for perfection and how much it had cost you.
One evening, as you were lying in your hospital bed, Sophie came to visit. She brought a small potted plant, placing it on the windowsill. "A little greenery to brighten up the room," she said with a smile.
You managed a weak smile in return. "Thanks, Soph. For everything."
She sat down beside you, her expression serious. "Listen, I know you've been through a lot, but you have to understand that pushing yourself to the brink like this isn't the answer. You have to find balance."
"I know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to be the best."
She reached out, placing a hand on your arm. "You are the best. But being the best doesn't mean destroying yourself. It means taking care of yourself, so you can be there for your team, for the fans, and most importantly, for yourself."
Her words resonated deeply, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you could breathe again.
#woso#canada#women's football#canwnt#women's soccer#woso x reader#woso fanfics#canwnt x reader#30 canadians in 30 days#sophie schmidt#houston dash#nwsl
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the not-so-useless hotline | george clarke
this has been rotting in my drafts for a while but it was a req so i hope you enjoy! may be a little sucky, sorry about that :)
dedicated to both the nonnie who requested and the nonnie who was adorable to me in dms so!!!!
to be honest, you didn't even really know what you had become well known for.
you started on youtube, ended up singing and modelling and vlogging and god knows what else, and you were a little bit of a mystery to the world.
but, nonetheless you had become adored by the internet, and eventually dragged on a podcast by max, who you had met on a brand trip and had grown to quite like, even if you had only seen him a handful of times.
so when you showed up to a little office with worn out computers and a smile on max's face, it did make you giggle to be on the set that you had seen him, and george, who even though you had seen him a lot online, you admittedly knew next to nothing about.
"y/n! hello, welcome!" you were invited in by who you assumed was a manager, who helped you get microphoned up, staying quiet whilst you listened to max and george speak and introduce the podcast whilst you waited on the sidelines for being introduced.
so when you heard the, "okay, send her up for the interview!" and you sat opposite them, your cheeks were a little red from laughing as it felt strange to be sat opposite them in such a corporate setting, even if was all a big joke.
"welcome y/n to your interview at the useless hotline! i'm max, this is george, very important interview today," max joked, and you nodded a little more, laughing and repeating, "very important, yes."
"yeah, i'm so glad to be here, i really need this job!" you joked back, allowing yourself to have a moment looking at george, being your first proper time meeting him. he was quite attractive, put together nicely.
"well, we have very high standards here, although max doesn't reflect that too well," george joked back, and you nodded in a teasingly solemn look.
"well, every company has it's stinker, and i suppose here it's max," you smiled, and max rolled his eyes.
"you bitch! haven't even introduced yourself and you're already mocking me," max grinned.
"oh, sorry, i introduce myself and then mock you?" you teased back.
after being made to make max and george extremely potent alcoholic drinks, and introducing yourself, with a little gossip about music and max's social life, eventually you get questions thrown your way.
"well, we figured we need to talk to you about your dating life, 'cause that's where our clickbait will be," george joked.
"literally! everyone knows you as some maneating mysterious woman going on dates all the time, and we're nosy," max teased, and you rolled your eyes in response.
"i'm not a maneater! jesus, you leave a bad impression max! i would just say i am very picky, that's all. y'know, high standards." you hummed a little as you drank your drink with a small grin.
"oh, come on, you know yourself there has been a cast of rotating rumours of people that the internet thought you might be dating," max urged, and you shrugged a little. "plus, when we went on that bar thing on the latest brand trip you told me about a few of them, so there must be some drama there!" he joked a little more.
"men are just very disappointing creatures, you know? there just hasn't really been one where i've been like, yeah, this person is fun to be around and i would like to be around them a lot of the time, so i'm still single!" i explained with a giggle.
"george is literally always saying something of a similar tune, he is kind of just a picky man," max joked a little, and i grinned and raised my eyebrows at george.
"picky, hm? i suppose i'm a little picky, but i don't think that's necessarily bad, i just think i would love to hold out for someone who is really for me, you know?" i asked him curiously.
"i wouldn't even say i'm picky, i just think... there's a kind of thing, where i'll, you know, find someone where i'm just like, yeah, this feels right," george explained, and i nodded.
"so do you have like.. a type?" max asked me, "george's type always seems to be women who don't like him back." max teased.
"there have definitely been some stinkers in the past but... i mean, i wouldn't even say i have a type, really. i like funny people, and i'd like someone that's taller then me... um, i guess i like facial hair but that's not a dealbreaker if not," i laughed a little awkwardly with a shrug of my shoulders.
"well, i'd say you'd like george but he is exceptionally not funny," max grinned to himself and i rolled my eyes in a giggly way, watching george turn to max.
"because you're just so witty yourself, max,"
the podcast continued, with topics only getting more intrusive and unhinged as we continued, before we got to the point where we were answering asks, and one came up asking george on a date as a plus one to a wedding.
"fuck you! see, everyone comes on the podcast and thirsts over george, but what if you had asked me? i would actually have shown up, how about that!" max huffed whilst george tried not to laugh.
"what, people try and hit on george through the podcast?" you asked, laughing myself.
"yeah, they do, his name is max balegde," george joked.
"they're really scraping the bottom of the barrel if they want george," max grinned, before looking at me, "do you get a lot of the whole randomers asking you out thing? seeing as you're so thirsted over on the internet?"
"i mean, i suppose so, but i don't read too many of them, they just stay in the requests bit of my messages so i don't pay them too much attention," you giggled slightly, shrugging, "though, i do appreciate the compliments, sometimes if i'm just having a really crap day i'll just look through edits of myself. is that narcissistic? maybe it is, but it does make you feel good,"
"max was begging people to make edits of him on one of the podcast episodes so i'm sure you're not too bad," george grinned to you, and you tittered a little at his answer, grinning back at him.
george was pretty attractive, actually.
it had been about a week since the episode of you on the useless hotline had come out: and to say you had been bombarded would be an understatement.
from shipping fan edits to insane tweets, there seemed to be a common theme, the theory that you were dating george.
he had texted you a little, talking about when the podcast was going to come out, and asking you if you had any plans over the weekend, mainly casual talk as he told you funny stories about his roommates, arthur and chris, and occasionally sending you photos of himself pulling faces.
liked by max_balegde, georgeclarkeey and 12,039 others
yourusername: my roommate tried to push me out of a window (but i made her take cute pictures so)
miaxmon: shut up i did not push you!
↳ yourusername: @/miaxmon whatever you say PUSHER
userone: since WHEN did she live with mia ???
↳ yourusername: since she begged me to live with her bc im awesome and sexy and she couldn't live without me (but actually for about six months!)
georgeclarkeey: she should have finished the job
↳ yourusername: smh silly george if she pushed me out the window then who else would the internet ship you with???
↳ georgeclarkeey: someone tolerable hopefully
↳ yourusername: i can see why you got stood up now
you have a new message from @/georgeclarkeey!
georgeclarkeey: now that was just cruel and uncalled for
yourusername: it was honesty which girl would show up for a date with you ???
georgeclarkeey: you hopefully
yourusername: you what???
georgeclarkeey: would you show up on a date with me?
yourusername: only if you said sorry for wanting mia to finish me off and that i am the best :)
georgeclarkeey: i just audibly sighed
georgeclarkeey: you are the best and i am sorry for saying i wanted mia to finish the job
georgeclarkeey: happy?
yourusername: absolutely
yourusername: so, a date?
georgeclarkeey: i was thinking a really tall building with loads of open windows. thoughts?
yourusername: you're sooooo funny george
georgeclarkeey: i know i know i'm hilarious
georgeclarkeey: i was actually thinking we could go to flight club and play darts
yourusername: i will beat you SO bad
georgeclarkeey: can't wait :)
yourusername: anyway, i thought you were really picky about who you go on dates with?
georgeclarkeey: i usually am
georgeclarkeey: i guess you just feel right
yourusername: are you this soppy with all your dates?
georgeclarkeey: well they usually don't show up so you'll be the first, obviously
georgeclarkeey: anyway i thought you were picky as well?
yourusername: okay shut up now george :)
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first sight
dancing with our hands tied part one!
paige bueckers x reader
—
brooke’s pov
“holy shit brooke,” taniya shouts from her room.
“what,” i yell back. it’s a questionable method of communication, but it works for us. i hear her footsteps clambering towards my room, then my door bursts open and taniya, my five-foot-barely anything roomate flings herself onto my bed.
“paige FUCKING bueckers commented on your post and all you did was like it? i thought i taught you better than this, bee,” taniya says, shaking her head at me.
“well, it’s not like-“
“HOLD ON,” taniya cuts me off, “she liked this comment saying ‘the spike tattoo…my god’ brooklyn maw johns she’s fucking in love with you.”
i roll my eyes at taniya’s wild predictions, which aren’t new to our friendship. “first of all, my name isn’t even brooklyn, second of all, wait, check my phone, who’s that message from?”
taniya picks up my phone, reads something, then screams at the top of her lungs and chucks my phone at me.
Paige💕
Hey was just wondering what college you went to?
i stare blankly at the screen, starstruck. taniya nudges me, motioning at the phone to respond.
Brookee🐝
Uconn, like you.
Paige💕
Oh shit really? I didn’t know you knew so much about me😏
“is she really tryna flirt with me IN MY DMS right now?” i say out loud. taniya giggles.
“no shit sherlock, that’s why she slid into your dms. tell her you like basketball or something!”
Brookee🐝
i mean, i like basketball and my dorm isn’t that far from gampel. the mcdonald’s like twenty minutes away is like ten times cooler tho.
“you sneaky shit,” taniya snickers.
Paige💕
Fr you should meet me there in like 30.
Brookee🐝
No shit?
Paige💕
Yeah i’ll see ya then
i swipe out of instagram and start pacing around my room, opening drawers and holding things up to my body.
“bee, cool it. paige is about to show up in team travel gear, so your sweatpants and cute ass tank top are fine. put on some mascara or something if it’ll help you chill, but you’ll look great.” taniya is a little psychotic most of the time, but she’s calm as fuck in these situations.
i twist my hair up into a clip and climb into my car, palms sweaty. i don’t know why i agreed, this is so creepy and random.
Paige💕
i’m otw, u almost there?
Brookee🐝
yeah almost, ps don’t text and drive
Paige💕
hypocrite
Brookee🐝
😔
~
“hey brooke!” i hear a voice from behind the booth im sitting in, nursing a sprite and a small fry.
“hi paige,” i say, grinning. she smiles back, and slides into the other side of the booth, then reaches over and takes one of my fries.
“get your own,” i chide, while sliding the fries closer to her. “besides that, why’d you randomly want to know what college i go to?”
she shifts in her seat. as she opens her mouth, a waitress comes by with a happy meal. paige opens it up and dumps her fries into the other end of the nugget box. before she eats, i quickly snap a picture.
“you don’t mind if i post this? it’s kinda how im paying for my guilty pleasures.”
she nods, “yeah, tag me. anyway, i asked you about what college you went to because i thought i knew you from somewhere, but i just could not figure out what. also, you’re like, really pretty so i wanted to talk to you.”
she blushes at the last part, which makes my cheeks go a bit pink.
“well, you’re not exactly bad looking yourself. when can i see you again, because it’s getting late and i want to see my bed,” i say. taniya would be proud of my straightforwardness.
“Well, i’ve got tickets to a Sun & Fever game for monday, and the person i was going with just bailed on me, so do you wanna come?”
i blink at paige in shock. i’ve literally known her in person for maybe twenty five minutes and she’s already offering me things?
“i mean, im not doing anything, and the Sun’s arena isn’t that far, is it?” i ask, hoping to get any more information on whatever she’s proposing.
“yeah, it’s probably only like an hour with traffic, but i can pick you up and drive you home if you want? or we can get a hotel? i have a hotel, but i can cancel it if you wanna you home, i just didn’t want to drive again after the game because leaving would be hell.”
i nod, hoping it looks cool and confident and not utterly confused.
“yeah, we can keep the hotel, it’s okay.”
“aight, i’ll get you on monday around three.”
paige walks me out to my car, and as i climb in, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. once i see that she’s gone, i call taniya.
“Bitch do i have so much to tell you.”
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Make Your Move - Chapter 1
Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes
Fic Masterlist
A/N: Very excited to begin my first long fic! Enjoy <3 I'd love to know what you think. I have an idea of how long it will be, but maybe I’ll have more ideas as we go on.
Fic Summary: Having known Matt for a year already, he knows your talents and hires you as his assistant for Bad Omens' upcoming tour. You’ve had a crush on Matt, your friend, and now boss. However, his good friend and your celebrity crush, Noah, takes a liking to you the second you step through the door. What happens when your feelings develop? What happens when they find out? You only hope your heart doesn’t break trying to care for two others.
Content and Warnings for Ch. 1: Fluff, mention of sex toys/masturbation, all of my works are 18+ only
Word Count: 2.7k
Matt called the other day.
“Y/N, do you happen to have plans from June 3rd to July 7th?” He asked.
You remember him asking you, but at that moment you didn’t even process what he had said before responding, “Whatever you need, I’m all yours!”.
You rolled your eyes at yourself. He was cocky, overly flirtatious, and arrogant some of the time, but he had an effect on you that didn’t waver.
You wanted every moment to be around him and didn’t consider the amount of responsibility he would put on you in the upcoming months.
It’s the beginning of April and you agreed to be Matt’s assistant tour manager on Bad Omen’s summer tour. Their full tour route has already been posted online and fans could begin buying tickets by the end of the week.
Today, you have to meet with Matt and the band for the first time to discuss tour logistics. Tour production, mixing, and lighting were nothing new to you, but you'd never gone on the road before, let alone with a band you'd never met… in person, at least. You're a Bad Omens fan– big time.
Matt and you have known each other for a year having met while you were on a walk. His dog, Zeus, had got off-leash and sauntered on toward you. It was fate the way the world brought him to you. He thanked you for grabbing Zeus’ collar before noticing your Bad Omens merch.
“I like your shirt,” he nodded at your chest with a smirk.
“You're their tour manager,” you said with wide eyes.
“Among other things,” he smiled.
The man had you wrapped around his finger starting that day.
You two exchanged numbers and have been hanging out and talking ever since. It was your favorite to go on walks with him and his dogs when he was home from tour. He flirted with you and with every hand touch and compliment it made your affection for him grow. However, you knew he was a ladies' man and decided to keep your feelings secret early on.
Now, he’s your boss.
—
The walk from your car to the door of the studio felt a mile long. The beat of your heart thumped in your ears as you thought about how your first meeting would go.
Would they like you? Would you do well or make a fool of yourself? Would they notice you had a crush on Matt? Will they just think you're his puppy to play with on tour?
These thoughts made your stomach lurch and nearly convinced you to dial Matt to call in sick.
Nevertheless, you wanted to prove yourself to them, so you put on your best smile and turned the door knob.
You were immediately met with a packed room and heads turning to meet you.
“There she is!” Matt exclaims while leaning against the long mixing console. “Everyone, this is Y/N. My new assistant.”
“Hell knows you needed one,” Folio gets up from the couch on the side of the room and goes to shake your hand.
“I’m Nick,” he points to another guy in the corner in a rolly chair, “he’s Nick, too. So, it’s ok for you to call me Folio.”
Nick, Nicholas Ruffilo as you know him, gives you a smile and a small wave before returning to his laptop screen.
“That’s Jolly,” Folio points to a rugged man sitting on the rug on the floor next to the coffee table.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiles.
“And this is Noah,” Folio walks over to Noah and pats his shoulder.
“Hey,” he waves.
How can he be even hotter in person? You thought.
Being a fan of the band already, you had already attached their names to their faces, and Noah’s was your favorite. You thought he was attractive and started to develop a bit of a celebrity crush on him when you discovered the band, but once Matt came into the picture you thought it best to ogle over someone tangible. Now, Noah is really in front of you and you hope your fan feelings won’t make things complicated.
“Nice to meet you guys. I’m such a fan,” you say, professionally.
“Oh! You’re a fan! Matt, you picked a good one,” Folio grins.
You make your way across the room toward Matt to hug him. You couldn’t help feeling eyes on you from the direction of the couch, but your conscience convinces you to ignore it.
Matt embraces you before telling you to take a seat in the rolly chair beside him.
“Alright, my friends,” he claps. “Now that we’re all here, we have a lot to do. Y/N, I sent you our to-do list, mind getting that out for me?” Matt nods toward the laptop in your tote bag.
“You’re already giving orders? It’s day zero,” Nick whines.
“Treat her like an equal, man,” Noah is lighthearted, but his face says “Don’t do this right now”.
“Guys, I’m kidding,” Matt groans and pulls out his phone. “Ok, so we need to source crew, talk to management about who else is on the bill, create video wall graphics, arrange a setlist, mix intros for each track in the setlist… plus lots and lots of other shit.”
You smile across the room to Noah and mouth, “Thank you”.
He winks at you before looking down at his notebook and beginning to take note of Matt’s list.
Matt continues, “Noah, do you want to finalize the setlist? We can work on some other stuff while you get that done.”
“Actually,” he raises his head from his notebook to make eye contact with you, “I would love to have Y/N’s opinion on what I have so far.” He faces Matt, “She’s a fan and it would be nice to have some insight from someone else who enjoys our music.”
“I like that idea,” Matt agrees.
“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you say excitedly. Time to prove yourself, you thought.
“Sweet,” Noah says. He gets up from the couch with his notebook and pen in hand. “We can go out to the patio,” he nods his head at the back door of the studio.
You grab your tote and fix your outfit before following Noah to the door that he so chivalrously holds open for you.
“After you,” he smiles. “Let’s take a seat on the bench.”
The atmosphere completely changes as you can hear birds chirping and cars driving down the nearby highway. The back patio is covered with a finished, wooden awning and it faces a small yard with deep green grass and vines that trail up the fence surrounding the studio. Being here with Noah, alone, it felt like a dream.
You take a seat next to Noah with around two feet in between you. Your heart flutters watching him flip through the pages of his notebook as his hair falls into his eyes.
“There it is,” he announces as he tucks his hair behind his ear, only for it to fall again to his temple.
Noah hands you his notebook and on the open page is a list of songs. Some of them are scratched out and then rewritten, while others have question marks next to them.
“I hope you can read my handwriting,” he says sheepishly.
“I like your handwriting,” you smile, hoping to ease him. Why was he nervous? You thought.
You read aloud,
“Artificial Suicide,
Nowhere to Go,
V.A.N,
Glass Houses,
The Grey,
Never Know,
Limits,
IDWT$,
Like a Villain,
Just Pretend,
The Death of Piece of Mind,
Concrete Jungle,
and Dethrone.”
“This is perfect,” you gush. “The fans will love this show. I know I will.”
Your praise earns you a toothy smile from him. “Are you sure there is nothing you would change? You can be critical. I can take it,” he leans in urging you to say anything.
“You–,” you blush, “you forgot to add my favorite song.”
“What’s your favorite?” He’s still so close to you, yearning to hang onto every word you say.
You reach across his lap to pull the pen out of his hand. His gaze follows your hand to his notebook. The pen is brought to the page of setlist ideas and at the very bottom, you scribble If I’m There.
Noah laughs and rubs the tops of his thighs. “Really?”
Taken aback by his reaction, “‘Yes! What do you mean, ‘really’?”
“Hey,” he smiles with his hands up, “it’s a great song. I know the fans love it…” He holds up his forefinger, “But, one, we haven’t played it live in forever.” He holds two fingers to you and laughs, “Two, you put it as the third encore after Dethrone.”
You laugh along with him. “Fine, no If I’m There for the fans I guess,” you tease. “I just was thinking about when you and Jolly did an acoustic live stream during quarantine and played it. The song means a lot to me and your voice sounds amazing in it, of course,” you admit.
Noah bites his lip and fixes a steady gaze on your eyes. “Thank you, that means a lot. Maybe you’ll share with me what it means to you sometime?”
“Sure,” you nod.
“How about, when we’re on the road and you’re feeling down,” he looks off to the yard, “you say the word and I’ll play the song for you.”
“Just for me?”
“Just for you.”
“Why?”
“I want to sing it again; the song means a lot to me, too,” he looks to you.
–
“Matt,” you call out, “am I going to be feeling down when we're on the road?”
It was now almost two months later and the first show of the summer is in two days. This morning, Matt is over at your apartment helping you pack for your first tour trip. You have to leave to meet everyone at the tour bus to pack everything up and head out by noon.
“Feeling down,” he pauses, “like, sad? Where’d you hear that?” He comes out of your restroom with your travel bottles and extra toiletries in his arms.
“It was a passing comment that Noah made when we first met. I’ve been thinking about it ever since,” you look down at your suitcase on the bed.
“I’m sure he didn't mean to freak you out. But,” he opens up your mini bag to set everything inside, “yeah, it can get lonely.”
“Aw, you get lonely?” you tease. “Then, I’m glad I’ll have my best friend on the road with me,” you smile at him.
“Yeah, me too,” he smiles back at you, “Noah and I are going to be hanging out a lot.”
“Fuck off”, you flick the brim of his hat. Letting out a sigh, you ask, “Do you think I have everything I need?”
“Lemme see…” He hunches over your suitcase and rummages through the piles of clothes. It’s a minute later that you realize that he’s probably putting his hands all over your underwear. “Y/N.”
“What?” You ask. He’s still hunched over, unwavering. “Matt, what is it?” You repeat urgently.
“What are– Why do you have these?” He turns around to you holding your palm-sized vibrator in his left hand and your pink, five-inch dildo in his right.
“Matt!” You reach forward trying to grab them, but he pulls back. “Oh, my God!”
“You can’t bring these!” He yells waving around your personal items.
“I can do whatever I want! Give them back!” Your cheeks feel red hot as you try to reach for your things being held above his head.
He looks down at you with fire in his maple eyes. “You’re going to be staying on the bus with us. When did you think you were going to use these?” He laughs, and you hate it when he’s right. Honestly, you questioned why you even bothered to pack them, too.
“None of your business, Matt,” you huff letting your arms down, defeated. “I just thought, like, what if we got hotel rooms at some point during the tour and I could blow off some steam.”
“And, you thought that you’d get a room to yourself?” Matt laughs, annoyingly. He hands you the toys and you throw them into the bag in frustration.
“I have to room with you boys the entire month?” You whine. “How am I supposed to change my clothes?”
“You’ll have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I don't mind if you change in front of me,” Matt smirks.
“You would like that, huh?” You jab.
“Y/N, watching you change would be my favorite show; better than any Bad Omens set, and I’m great at my job,” he taunts.
“You’re gross,” you scoff.
“You love me,” Matt relaxes on your bed.
He’s right, you think.
–
The sun was out again outside of the studio. You reminisce about spending time with Noah on the patio two months ago, and there were only a couple of days you spent alone time with him since then. Each time, you try to brush off the sense of guilt you have when Noah looks at you with his almond eyes; Matt is still unaware of the celebrity crush you had on his friend. Even though Matt isn't yours, you still liked and knew him first and it made it feel wrong to give Noah the attention you did.
Though, there’s no time to focus on that now. Today is your first official day of being Matt’s assistant and assistant tour manager for Bad Omens.
You met everyone: crew, the other touring band, Bad Omens, and Matt outside of the studio where the tour trailers and buses were parked. With your suitcase by your side, you kept track of everything on your iPad. You instructed where everyone was meant to be by the first show day and took inventory of all gear kept in the trailers.
And then after forty-five minutes of organization, everyone was ready to load onto the buses.
“Alright,” Matt calls out, “crew and our other band, you'll be in the first bus. My guys and Y/N, we’ll be in the second. Decide on your sleeping arrangements. Let’s go.”
“You ready?” Folio comes to your side.
“Yeah, I’m excited,” you answer.
With that, you load onto the second bus, and you’re astonished at the sight before you.
The bus is long. There’s a kitchenette with cabinets as you enter and a TV hanging above the entrance of the bus. After the kitchenette, the bus is lined with smooth, black leather couches and one small table for dining. There's a sliding door that separates the bunks from the rest of the bus; six beds total, two sides of the bus set with three bunks on top of each other. After the bunks, there is another sliding door that can block off a room with a leather couch that lines the walls of the bus. The back is decorated with pillows and twinkly lights from which you can see.
“Y/N, take your pick of bunk. I’ll sleep near wherever you choose.” Matt suggests.
You choose the second bunk on the right side of the bus. Matt chooses to sleep above you and Folio follows suit below you. As everyone is settling in, Noah trails in last.
He’s left with the second bunk on the left side of the bus, right across from you.
“Hey, neighbor,” he smiles as he puts his backpack in his bunk.
“Noah,” you blush while unpacking your blanket, pillow, and plushies onto the bed.
Matt finishes unpacking his sleeping gear and leans against the wall to address all of you, “Now that we’re back, I just need to remind everyone about the rules of the bus.”
Nick groans from his bunk near the floor.
“Well, actually, y'all know there’s only one rule,” Matt maintains eye contact with you. “No pleasuring oneself or another on the bus.”
Oh, my God, you think.
"I hate you", you silently mouth to Matt.
Beside you, Noah chuckles and crosses his arms. Turning to look at him, his cheeks are pink.
Did Matt fucking tell him something? You thought.
Matt raises his eyebrows at you. “Driver! Let’s roll.”
#noah sebastian x reader#matt dierkes x reader#bad omens x reader#bad omens fanfiction#noah sebastian fanfiction#matt dierkes fanfiction#she's HERE
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For Eternity, Chapter 2 of 13
Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel)
Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors.
Chapter Warnings: Suggestions of sexual assault
@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.
Masterlist AO3 KoFi
~~~~~<3
“Welcome back, Ladies!” Alastor was in the hotel lobby as soon as the doors opened. “How did your ill-fated endeavor go?”
“Bad.” Vaggie answered, not wanting to talk about any of it. The less people that knew her angelic origin story, the better in her mind.
“Alastor?” Charlie tried to find the similarities between the man in the picture she had spent most of the trip home looking at and the one standing before her.
“Whatever can I do for you?” He was in front of her in a heartbeat, leaning into her space slightly, hands planted on his cane as was his way.
“I think maybe I have something for you?” Charlie held out the silver pocket watch.
“Angelic steel?” He asked as he stepped closer, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “As a pocket watch? What a silly trinket to bring back. Pocket watches were a thing of the past long before my day.”
“It was given to me. A woman, she asked me to give it to you. At least, I think you’re who it’s for. Maybe there’s another Alastor? Or one who isn’t dead yet. Or one that already had their soul destroyed. Or-”
Alastor bounced the watch in his hand a few times, enjoying the weight of a well made pocket watch in the palm of his hand. Wristwatches had indeed replaced the pocket by in his time on earth. Still, they had an elegance he had favored in life that few knew about.
They made handy trinkets to fiddle with. In life, he’d run his thumb over the faceplate of the watch his wife had gotten him while he stalked his victims… or while he sat through pointless meetings.
She had gotten it for him as a gift early in their marriage, upon discovering his rather modest personal collection. It’s weight lived in his pocket during those few short months they had spent together. In the time after her death however, he had wore the faceplate smooth, running his thumb over it again and again as he went about his daily life.
Alastor froze as he opened the watch. A face he had spent what felt like eternity trying to forget looked up at him.
He had hoped that was where she was. He had feared she had already perished in hell, having been damned for one wrong thought or some childhood action like so many of the weakest sinners in the realm.
Static jumbled his voice, radio filter going heavy, “Where did you get this?”
“A woman, she gave it to me.” A shiver ran up Charlie’s spine as Alastor clicked closed the watch and slipped it in his pocket, moving without a trace of the dangerous flair of power he had displayed. “Do you- is she-”
“My wife.” He confirmed. Though they had been separated in death, he wouldn’t deny her. He had spent decades trying and failing to forget her, but he would never deny her outright.
“You had a wife?” Angel was too shocked to add any quips to his question. Alastor having a wife ment that surely, at some point he had an interest in more than just himself. “Does that mean that you do-”
“I advise you to speak carefully,” Words came nearly lost in static as shadows deepened, lights dimmed and Alastor’s back twisted and his neck turned far more than should have been possible so Angel was faced with his terrifying face.
“What is she like?” Charlie was eager to settle the mood and learn more of the woman who she had only gotten to meet for a fleeting moment.
“She was sweet as honey. A woman truly deserving of Heaven.”
“How’ed she end up with a fella like you?” Angel stuck his neck out to ask the question on everyone’s mind, not having enough sense of self preservation to keep his mouth shut after the first warning.
“I was far from deserving of her,” Alastor felt like such didn’t need saying. “We had family connections pushing us together. Is she well?”
Charlie hesitated, her mind replaying the way Adam manhandled the wisp of a woman.
“She’s in Heaven.” Vaggie answered, as if that was an answer.
Alastor accepted it with a nod, “I thank you for bringing me her trinket.”
“She said to tell you that she loved you,” Charlie blurted out. “No, that’s not exactly it. She would always love you, that was it. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her but she said she would wait forever for you.”
The wide toothed smile on Alastor’s face closed, pulling tight, “She shouldn’t.”
“You can try for redemption.” Charlie felt renewed hope for him. He had someone to be redeemed for!
“No, thank you.” Alastor’s smile grew again, cut wide by his sharp teeth. “I am hardly the man she knew. I thank you again, for the trinket, and carrying my Isabel’s message. Good Night.”
~~~~~<3
Adam was in a rage as he threw her against the wall. Isabel wished for nothing more than to die. If this was heaven, she didn’t want to be here.
“What were you talking about!”
“I just wanted to find him.” She whimpered in the face of Adam’s rage. He was held up as the perfect man, the first man. If he was placed next to the man she loved though, he couldn’t even live up to his shadow.
“He’s a disgusting Sinner!” Adam grabbed her again. “Why do you hold out for him? You could have me, the original dick.”
“You’ll never be half the man he was!”
Adam threw her on the floor and loomed over her. “Take what I am willing to give you,” His hand grasped her ankle and pulled her toward him as she tried to get away. “And I will make you forget him.”
“You’re as much a sinner as anyone in hell!” She kicked at him, “This is no Heaven. This is but a beautiful blasphemous lie. This is Hell!”
~~~~~<3
Alastor sat in Rosie’s parlor, teacup of rich warm blood swirling as he was lost in his thoughts. Across from him sat his dearest friend in Hell. Her territory was a refuge for him, somewhere without cameras and where those who would spread idle gossip about him were not eager to wander inside.
“Alastor Dear, As glad as I am to see your face, what troubles you?”
Rosie had been sitting in silence, watching him. She waited patiently for him to open up before her soft prodding, though she wouldn’t dare push or pry. Maintaining a friendship with her often chaotic fellow Overlord took some delicacy and respect for his many boundaries and walls.
“My wife,” Alastor’s smile was subdued yet ever present even as the weight of his punishment in hell crashed over him once again.
It was a weight he had long ago gotten used to. He had learned to thrive under but when he was forced to remember this part of his living life, it was a stone around his neck that threatened to try to drown him. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would let it.
He needed to once again cast aside the stone. She was where she belonged and he would never be with her again. So what if she waited for him? So what if she still loved him? She didn’t know the sins he carried. He needed to throw her memory aside, once again, and leave the past in the past.
There was nothing that could be done to change anything.
She sat back in her chair, back perfectly straight and empty eyes wide. Sure, she had been privy to the fact that at one time, he had been married but most gave up such ownership over their spouse after a few decades, referring to them as former, ex or late.
It was easy to assume due to his apparent lack of romantic or sexual drive that he had mentally divorced himself from the relationship long ago, shed the shackles that societal expectations bound him with in his life. They hadn’t spoken explicitly about his preferences or desires, it wouldn’t be proper, but she had a way of knowing these things.
Or at least, she had thought she did.
The idea that taking a wife had been anything more meaningful to him than the socially expected and proper thing to do hadn’t crossed even her mind. All things exist in a spectrum, she supposed, and matters of the heart were rarely anything less than complex.
Alastor placed a open pocket watch on the table between them after she was all but certain that he wasn’t going to discuss the matter further, “She’s in Heaven.”
“How did you get this?” She asked, picking the silver watch, gleaming in a way things in hell rarely did, and examining the picture inside.
It was hand sketched and ever so detailed. Crafting the image clearly took a significant amount of time. Someone had slaved over the artwork inside for a great many hours to produce something that had near photo results.
“Is this-?”
“My Darling and I, the day we wed.” Alastor confirmed. “She had always been a talented artist, though I’d say her skills have progressed significantly in the decades since she left my side.”
“It’s very good,” Rosie said, “You made a lovely couple.”
“Our Darling Princess delivered it when she returned from Heaven,” Alastor took a long pull from his teacup. “A gift from Isabel.”
“I’m so sorry, Alastor.” She slid the watch back toward him, not sure what the proper thing to say to him in that moment was.
“No need, my dear friend.” He absently responded as he pocketed the watch, sparing a moment to run his thumb over the faceplate hiding the picture inside. “No need. She is where she belongs, as am I.”
“Yet it weighs on you,” Rosie pointed out, “You long for her?”
“Perhaps.” Alastor wasn’t fond of the questioning but thankfully, Rosie did so with tact and respect. It was something lacking from the hotel residents who struggled to picture him caring for anyone, let alone as a husband. “She is safe, as she should be.”
“It’s a relief then?” Rosie asked, plucking a lady finger from the plate between them. “To know she didn’t parish in an extermination?”
It hadn’t occurred to her that he had been looking for, hunting for anything more than the powerful demons he killed as he arose to power. Perhaps there had been a bit of something else driving the events of those days. Now wasn’t the time to ask however.
“To know that she is where she belongs,” Alastor countered.
“Which isn’t with you?” Rosie delicately tried to untangle the complexities of her dear friend.��
“Which is somewhere safe,” Alastor corrected. “You know just as well as I, Hell chews up and spits out those who are not savage enough to earn respect and take power.”
~~~~~<3
Sulfur stung her nose as the portal to Hell opened. This was her chance, she had humored Adam though it had made her skin crawl to get to this moment. Adam wasn’t an intelligent man but still, it wasn’t easy to allow him to believe that she was finally willing to entertain his advances, his hands on her.
It was too much to hope for that he would know anything about her husband but he was her ticket to where he was. It was common knowledge that Adam took his warrior angles between Heaven and Hell in order to protect the gates.
There’s no way she could convince Adam to take her with him. Manipulation wasn’t her strength in the slightest. Just pretending to accept Adams advances was challenging enough.
It wasn’t for nothing at least. It had gotten her here, standing at the front of the select crowd who would see off Adam and his warriors to the mighty battle as the citizens of Hell once again rose up to try and overtake the gates. This was a war only a select few knew about and being one of those few took work.
Golden sparks kicked to life in the air in front of the army. Sparks grew, swirling to life into a large portal from what had started as a pinprick. Adam offered her a cocky grin that she did not return before he lead the first wave of his army though.
This was her chance, Isabel knew. It was now or never. If she let this chance pass by, she wouldn’t get another.
Counting, Isabel prepared herself to do something she knew she could never come back from.
One. Looking in the distance she saw her Mother-in-law nod her blessing. How she had managed to get that close, Isabel would never be able to ask her. Everything she had learned, everything she had feared, everything she had experienced in Heaven, she had shared with her dear Alastor’s mother. If anyone knew how much being separated from him was torture to her, it would be his mother.
Two. She fluttered out her wings, tensing muscles and ruffling feathers. To pull this off she needed every feather in place. She needed every muscle to propel her forward before anyone could stop her. Hopefully at least.
Three. One last deep breath of the cleanest air she would ever breathe as the hot sulphuric air wafted into heaven from the open portal. Just a few more rows of the army were left.
Now. She ran, long dress clutched in one fist as she hiked the hemline up to her knees, wishing she had worn the dip hemline she had favored instead of the ankle long hemline Adam liked. She had to manage without getting caught. She had to make it through and out of reach of the angels while she fell.
One powerful beat after the other allowed her to pick up speed as she ran forward, going as fast as her legs would carry her. Then she was going faster, feet grazing the stone floors as she shot forward into the stream of deadly angel warriors.
Fingers grazed the feathers of her wings in a startled attempt to stop her as she shot away from the army. For a moment, she was disorientated.
They were supposed to be high above hell, defending the gates from one of the frequent uprisings. She had planned to fall, hoping to miss the battle and fall fairly safely.
Instead, the portal all but threw her out into the battle near the grounds of Hell. This wasn’t right but Isabel had no time to get her feet under her. The air burned her lungs as she gulped air as her wings beat with all the strength she could manage.
Dodging out from the army, a black tentacle nearly knocked her out of the air. She had to get away from here, where ever here was before she could do anything else. Flying from rooftop to rooftop, she did everything she could to try and put distance between her and the battle without drawing attention to herself.
Once the fighting was over, she would look for him. First she had to find somewhere safer to wait out the violent fighting taking place around the large building. Surely, everyone would be paying attention to the battle and one lone angel wouldn’t draw too much attention, right?
~~~~~<3
TagList: @catticora, @alastor-simp
#Alastor x oc#hazbin alastor x oc#hazbin hotel alastor x oc#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x you
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Being dads is exhausting. And how do you deal with exhaustion? Cuddles! This time with a tiny fic under the cut ❤️
Teething
Salim got up from the carpet and dusted off his knees. How in the world did the remote end up under the tv stand, he'd never understand, but that was indeed where he found it. The vcr whirred as it rewinded the tape. He hoped he'd find the moment they stopped watching the movie last night, rudely interrupted by a shrill cry and loud wailing. The doctor warned him that teething could have many symptoms, but Salim quietly hoped that constant crying and sleepless nights wouldn't be as bad as they were when the first tooth poked out. If only he knew how wrong he'd be.
This night was Jason's turn to attend to Zain when he simply refused to fall back asleep. Salim felt for their baby boy, he really did, and both of them tried anything they could to ease Zain's pain and discomfort, but with few things available, and even fewer of them working, they had only one way of dealing with a teething baby. Patience.
Unfortunately said patience has been wearing thin over the last couple days. So much so, both Salim and Jason have become snappy and irritated. Last night Jason proposed watching a dumb movie to "debrain" themselves, which Salim eagerly agreed to. Not that they succeeded. After they dealt with their little interruption, Salim ended up nodding off on one end of the couch, and woke up in the morning to Jason curled up and lightly snoring on the other.
There was hope however. While half an hour ago Zain had been crying his little heart out yet again, at this point things seemed pretty quiet. The only sound Salim could hear was Jason quietly singing a lullaby.
Salim smiled to himself as he moved a couple of Zain's toys out of the way, then stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment, focusing more on the lullaby. Who knew Jason of all people would have a great singing voice and an array of lullabies stashed somewhere in his brain. And that Zain would react so well to them. Their boy wasn't the only one who did so either. Salim loved Jason's voice just as much, and hearing it off in the distance with a soft pillow under his head was enough to lull him into a trance.
"Their boy," Salim's mind honed in on that particular phrase. Zain was their boy now, not just his anymore, and that made his heart swell with love and affection for the man in the other room. Jason accepted Zain as his own pretty much immediately, surprising himself most of all. He was a blessing in many more ways than one, and Salim would never be able to give enough thanks to whatever power had brought them together, be it pure chance, or something more mystical.
He snapped back to reality when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You didn't just fall asleep on me, did you?" Jason teased, but the bags under his eyes told Salim just how much he'd like to do the same. Zain wasn't the only thing keeping them up at night. The nightmares were still vivid and frequent as well, even weeks after that awful day, and both of them had a feeling they wouldn't let up anytime soon.
"Almost," Salim stretched slightly and sighed. "Mission successful, I take it?"
Jason chuckled and gave him a mock salute, "The tiny wailing beast has been pacified with a lullaby and lots of cuddles. And that new teething gel the doc gave us. Now scooch."
Salim felt a knee nudge his side, but didn't move a muscle. He was way too comfortable for that. Though moving could have saved his stomach and slowly scarring chest from being crushed by the full weight of an ex-Marine.
Even if Jason seemed to purposefully avoid his wound, Salim still gasped and groaned in surprise, "That hurt, habibi."
Jason simply shrugged and sneaked his arms around Salim's torso, "Should've moved."
Salim grumbled some more, but reached for the blanket anyway, and soon they were both snug and cozy. "I rewinded the tape already. I think I got the right spot."
"With how early you conked out we might as well watch the whole thing," Jason took the remote from Salim's hand and pressed the button to rewind the tape fully, ignoring any protests.
With the most exaggerated eye roll he could manage Salim pushed himself deeper into the pillow and set his mind on focusing on the movie this time. As long as there would be no interruptions that is. He instinctively kept listening for any distressed sounds coming from Zain's room, but after hearing none he let himself relax.
It was about halfway through the movie when he proudly announced, "See? I told you I'd watch it this time." Only he didn't get any kind of response.
Salim craned his neck to glance at Jason's face and let out a low chuckle.
With eyes closed, and mouth slack Jason was asleep on top of him. Probably has been for a while as well, judging by the crease on his cheek and one arm hanging loose off the side of the couch.
Salim paused the movie. The house was quiet, save for Jason's even breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Zain seemed to still be asleep, and the neighborhood cocooned them in quiet darkness, making the night perfect for catching up on some much needed rest.
"Oh well," Salim thought, and let his own eyes slip shut. "Take the little blessings as they come." They could try again tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. They had all the time in the world.
#dark pictures house of ashes#house of ashes#jalim#jason kolchek#salim othman#jason/salim#jason x salim#blender shenanigans#I still love them#and I'm gonna love them#and think about them every day#I know I slowed down like A LOT with the renders#but I still got a couple planned out#and I'll possibly make them at some point#so yay!
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Blackwater XX
Warnings/AN: I should apologize for the drama but its my trademark at this point, I'll just say that there's a flashback and a couple of references to previous chapters. As soon as possible I'll create a masterlist dedicated to the series, because I have contents that I want to add since we are at the end. Lemme know if someone wants a tag there too~
Trouble ahead.
He showed up unexpectedly, grumbling about the mud that had gotten on his expensive shoes, the usual penguin-like gait and Jimmy rolled his eyes, waiting for him to finally reach them because they couldn't have continued at all if he was around. And it had nothing to do with a tactical move to hide plan from the enemy, it was simply impossible to ignore or avoid Paul Heyman and if once Jimmy would have laughed, now Paul was just annoying and the expression on Jey's face proved it.
- "Nice place, in your style" – he commented, without greeting or trying to pretend too much – "reminds me the days I used to come visit your dad, both of you were three, four maybe" – and Jimmy folded his arms.
Sure, their style wasn't their cousin's luxury stuff, the one Paul had accustomed him to. At that moment he was probably having breakfast in a restaurant downtown or a sauna to cool down his muscles, but he too had cut his teeth at the garage near Oak Wood Hills. Jimmy still remembered the afternoons spent there after school to see the red Jeep Cherokee that Roman had become obsessed with, he bought the damn car as soon as Uncle Sika came back from one of his trips and now instead he drove around in black businessman's SUVs and looking after the community with checks he couldn't spend on himself.
- "Did you get lost Og? Want me to call your daddy so he can pick you up?" – he asked and Paul must have had colic judging by his reaction.
- "No. Im here to talk."
- "Wow really?! Mind-blowing!"
The colic became a reproachful look at his sarcasm, but still Jimmy was not impressed and when Jey decided to come closer to support him, Paul wisely quit, once again showing off the best acting skills to save his ass.
- "Even though I remember what was said at the meeting, Im here with good intentions. Of course, it hurt me if I have to tell the truth, I don't understand where the aversion against me comes from... but despite this I couldn't refuse in my heart to help" – he began and Jimmy blinked confused.
- "Have you had a heart transplant?" – he urged, matching his attitude.
Paul didn't take that joke well either, but he had nothing to complain about, everyone knew how things were. The wiseman didn't help anyone if he didn't have something back, goodness was not among his qualities and it was impossible he had found some of it within himself now that he was personally involved. His feelings worked on command, according to occasion and business.
- "He thinks I'm dumb ass" – Jey said out of nowhere, staring at him.
He had crossed the edge since the boys' were dragged into the family mess and now his goal was just putting an end to it all. For him that war was an unbearable burden, Jimmy knew how he was, he knew Jey just wanted to start over, have some peace and he didn't like Paul's fake visit because it also added provocation to his worries. He would probably have put up with Roman, but not Paul, Paul wasn't family to him and those turns of phrase were making him nervous.
He heard the wiseman noises, trying to stay in control even though Jey's gaze didn’t help his attempts.
- "What? No, of course not, I’d never think bad about you! The Tribal Chief had chosen you as his right-hand man, a fool would not have had such an honor or right to speak in family business."
He thinks we're both dumb.
That stunt pushed Jimmy to clench his fists in annoyance, but didn't have time to silence Paul because his brother really didn't seem in the mood that day and had come forward again.
- "I had no right. He take all the decisions, with you, from day one."
He hadn't been around when that deal or alliance or whatever it was between him and Roman had come about, he'd been forced away from home for months, but Jey was there and kept him updated on everything. They had kept him on the sidelines of the family business from the beginning and the right-hand man title with their tricks had become a joke they made real when it suited them. Jey had taken it seriously despite everything, he had committed to the vision and tried, but it only make him run everywhere and get beaten. When Jimmy came back everything was already done and things had even gotten worse after.
- "Jey…" - he heard Paul negotiating trying to slow things down, realizing maybe that his sweet words were no longer having the planned effect - "when you're at the top you often find yourself in unpleasant situations, it's not for everyone, you're starting to understand it too how it is bearing the weight of that position. At the meeting you made some choices... let's say questionable ones... listening an advice would have been right for you if I may, to judge pros and cons. I'm here to offer you a second chance, I care about you even if you don’t care about the wiseman."
Jimmy hadn't expected his brother to discuss those terms in front of the elders, it had been strange and even he had been amazed, because Jey hadn't talked to him first about anything. But whatever plan he had if he had one, leaving a door open for Solo and even Y/N, Jey didn't need any second chances, especially not thanks to Paul. Jimmy was there to cover his back and it would always be like this, he didn't need counselors and dogs licking his feet to sleep better at night.
I can handle him.
His offer echoed through the link, but Jey didn't answer.
- "I know you're angry now and maybe it won't seem that way, but all this will help you, trust me it can be good for you, it's part of your journey to take the place of the Tribal Chief one day" – he persisted and Jimmy decided to step forward, ready to send him back to where he came from with good ass kick.
- "Imma take his place next week" – Jey stopped him, voice far too calm.
The day. It was just a week away. At the dawn after the harvest moon things would no longer be the same. Jimmy had been hoping for a change for years now, in the last few months he had chased it like a breath of air, now that was so close it was an almost surreal feeling, but Jey already seemed in control and ready.
- "It could happen... of course..." - Paul hesitated, avoiding answering to Jey push - "its essential, however, that the family is preserved and all of this, lemme tell you, is a dangerous gamble now. The elders have agreed to restore order, but we're all worried about what will happen next, them, me, your parents, even Y/N... poor girl, she can't rest knowing what’s going on and what could come" - he tried, pulling out an apologetic face that he could have avoid considering what relationship he had with Y/N.
- "None of them should be. The only one who needs to worry is you, because when I'm done, you'd better be far away. Bring back your advice, speeches and ass to my cousin, Og, don’t make say it twice" – Jey quickly silenced him though, stopping his tantrum by placing a hand on his shoulder.
Jimmy watched him stiffen as if someone had growled at him, face pale and shaken, his gaze going from Jey's fingers to eyes, which had been fixed on him from the moment he showed up. The realization of failure hit him right in front of them, a mixture of affront, anxiety and worry that Jimmy watched Paul shake off in the same way as Jey's hand, scrambling a few steps back to make room between them. He nodded to who knows who, body shaking as he sorted out his expensive clothes and pride.
The harvest moon was near, so their mother said. That year it was time to reap what they had sown.
***
Devil's Point, that's what the sign they passed on the way said and it really must have been one of devil’s tricks, because Y/N felt her stomach flipped. Or maybe wasn't the devil, maybe it was just another perfect date, pleasant anxiety, wine and fresh air caressing her warm face, sun slowly sinking beyond the strip of sand and trees, setting the sky on fire. Maybe the devil was Roman, with his gentleman manner, so confident, constantly eyeing her, always attentive, his low velvet voice. The bond had always been there, in her veins, in her bones. An invisible impulse born with them, as their lives went on and years passed, omnipresent, indissoluble, inevitable despite miles and obstacles. And more Y/N lingered in that trap easier it seemed to fall, normal deserving the life she hadn't had, a security she didn't know and now all around her, emanating from Roman.
Where has he been all this time? We were alone…
- "Have you ever looked for me?" – she asked out of nowhere, putting the dessert away.
A chocolate cake, because it was her favorite and he worked hard to please her, learning quickly and put into practice even the most insignificant details.
Roman looked surprised at the change of subject, putting down his glass.
- "Have you ever looked for me before that evening, when you found me at the camping?" – she asked again, feeling anxiety suddenly hit even though it had been her idea to investigate, happiness quickly dissolve into doubts.
Y/N didn't even know why she asked. It was an uncomfortable question, the search for a mate was a now past custom, too low probabilities and a world where alternatives had now become norm. It was stupid to expect something and unnecessarily provocative, what's more in their case, after all the first few months problems, it sounded a bit like an accusation or an attempt to ruin plans. Roman however didn't lose his composure and she saw him take a deep breath, brow furrowed as he remembered.
- "Years ago. When I finished college, did it for a while, then stopped."
- "Why?"
He looked at her in silence, but he didn't seem angry or bothered.
She needed to hear it, to know.
- "… had become frustrating. I needed to focus on what I could accomplish."
So real. So true.
Few could say they were lucky enough to find their other half. Rare cases, exceptions. Was it sad to meet someone, choose them and fit in? No, most people out there did it like that, she herself had witnessed it with her parents before the horror, but sometimes people couldn't even find someone, sometimes they were not chosen or stopped wanting each other and then yes, it became sad. For Y/N having someone in her life had never been an aspiration, a dream to cherish when night became too cold or silence too heavy. Getting attached was a risk, risks were dangerous and in her case, as an omega, alone and without a family or a community, it was better to avoid rather than defend. She had to be smart, loneliness had kept her alive, had kept her going, was the possibility of filling the void that scared Y/N. It scared her to get used to someone and lose everything again. She knew what Roman was talking about, a perpetual aftertaste on her lips when she moved away from a place and now she was founding out that she had never really been alone. She had always had a chance, someone waiting for her, ready to fill that void that for Y/N had become like an old illness she lived with.
Roman had been looking for her, among so many people, even if only for a while he really had and it was… so reassuring.
- "You didn't" – she heard him reflect, moving closer to put his jacket on her shoulders.
There was knowledge in his voice, a heavy bitterness, as if he didn't need to hear Y/N say it. She watched him take another sip of wine to warm himself or perhaps wash away the taste of that thought, enduring the cool evening for her.
- "I did it once… just once" – she admitted, surprising him and even herself.
She had never thought about that day before, but memory had hit her soon through her she-wolf, perhaps to console him. She didn’t like that look on his face, he was better all cocky and flirting.
- "I have been in foster care for couple of years after I lost my parents. I went from one house to another, it didn't work and I really didn't want to stay. There was a brunette white girl in one of the families, she didn't like me, talking behind my back all the time... I told her I’d find you and make her regret it" – she said, shaking her head at the thought of that childish menace.
Y/N didn't remember the reason for their fight, it could have been anything, she was an unbearable girl herself at the time, but she knew how she had felt. It was vivid in her memory. That sense of not belonging, absolute loneliness, anger, so much anger at the idea of being and being able to be just a stray in the future. The world is too big a place when life decides to give its worst lessons. Y/N had always grown up quickly, she had always learned running, what to be without roots, what to do if there is no one waiting.
- "We can pay her a visit" – Roman proposed casually and Y/N stared at him, because of all the things he could have said, she hadn't expected that.
No pitying comments, no words of comfort or judgement, just a blind complicit willingness to indulge her past madness.
- "Mmh I'm tempted" – she giggled softly.
- "What happened?" – heard him ask and pointed to her arm, where there was a scar similar to the one he had.
- "I stole her dad’s car and destroyed their fence" - she said, making him frown.
She had gotten into that pick-up without knowing how to drive or what to do, it didn’t end well, they caught her immediately and in hurry she had taken everything and everyone down. One of the poles around property had broken the pick-up window and the wire wrapped around it had threatened to blow her arm off, it was a miracle she hadn't fainted there. One of the biggest dumb act of her life and at the same time another lesson, proving Y/N she shouldn't be carried away by her omega impulses, it didn't bring anything good.
- "I stayed in town for a while I think, then left without looking back. I have no idea what happened to the pick-up or her. I didn't find you though... it was enough for me."
Admitting it, thinking about it, made her feel vulnerable. She didn't like that feeling. That attempt had been a failure from the start, chances of meeting him simply by walking a few miles, going to any city, any street, had been zero and even if he had been there, messed up as she was by pain, Y/N wouldn't even know she had found him. She had been stupid, irresponsible, mindless but realizing when it got dark she was still hopelessly alone had been worse.
She shrugged, picking up the dessert to distract and control herself.
It was over now.
- "We'll make things right, you have my word. It will be enough to be together, there's no need to think about it" – she heard Roman assure, once again without excuses or pity, firm in his intentions – "no more car rides though"– he added with a reproachful look that made her smile.
No, there was no need to think about the past. Everything had already changed and Y/N had learned her lesson, but maybe it was time to learn something else, trying not to run away this time. It seemed easy at the time and yes it really all came down to being enough for each other, filling the void with their bond.
For days Roman's routine had always been the same, calculated to the second, with no margin for error or change. He woke up before dawn, shower, breakfast and run, spend the morning in the gym, then lunch and gym again until dinner time, after which he lock himself in the office taking care of the documents Paul brought or business that required his supervision, and then join her in bed when it was already late night and repeat everything the next day. He was locked in a bubble, focused on a single goal, counting minutes, preparing in advance for whatever would or could happen. An absolute, maniacal dedication that Y/N somehow admired. It made her proud to see that he was capable of so much and yet it also made her sad.
Because in the wild run of that family war, she was just a spectator. She repeated to herself that she had to be patient, be understanding, that she had to put aside anxieties and bad moods to support him as better as she could, but it weighed on her. She did whatever not to show it, not to think about it, and despite her efforts Y/N felt everything around her emptying and cooling, her sacrifices devalued and even ignored. They almost didn’t speak to each other anymore and certainly not about what they should have because there was no time for doing it, they didn’t spend together and when that happened he was focused on something else, Y/N had the feeling of having gone back to the days when they were two strangers, two separate worlds united by a thin wire.
She didn't want that, they weren't like that, they had both worked hard to make things work, succeeding, they had truly found themselves at the end. The idea they were affecting their relationship, the possibility to distance themselves so bad to spend a life like that, wasn't something Y/N could bear. They had overcome differences, they shouldn't have burned everything because they didn't see things the same way in war where their relationship was not in play. They just had to meet once again and remember. He had taught her that and Y/N hadn't believed him for a long time, but they really needed their bond.
On the now empty table on the patio, she opened the floor plan of her old house, the one she had had to leave and Roman had given her back. It was nothing compared to what she had now, but it could become something, maybe just for them, a place where nothing and no one could disturb them.
***
Day after day his body pushed further and further, urged by pressure, focused on a single goal from which Roman couldn’t look away. He couldn't afford any mistakes with Jey, Roman knew he could beat him and he would, but his cousin knew him better than any other out there. They were certainly on two different levels, however Roman couldn't allow him to prove anything if he wanted to regain the absolute control that the elders had questioned due to too many mistakes in those months. And it was for these reasons that getting out of his head, stopping and having those breaks had become an annoying obligation that he fulfilled in the shortest time and avoiding any extra thoughts. Lose focus was a weakness, give ground an advantage, something he couldn't tolerate.
When he closed the door behind him, the house was silent as if he were the only one around. It had been like this for a long time, but time had passed. Now it wasn’t empty, Y/N was there and not finding her in the living room as had been the case for days forced him to follow her trail to the outside. He expected to find her busy, but not to see her with all those papers on the table.
Why is she looking at them? Why she got that floor plan again?! Stop her. Now.
- "What are you doing?" – he asked, voice heavy and she immediately raised her head with a weak smile, one that she could have addressed to anyone, not to him.
- "Nothing, I was waiting for you. Is it already time for your break?"
If it was an attempt to push away the conversation or pretend, it didn't work. He knew those documents, he had signed them and he had been clear telling her not to get any strange ideas about her family's old house, and yet she was there looking at them page by page at a moment like this.
- "I asked you what you think you are doing Y/N" – he repeated seriously, convincing her to put them down.
- "I was keeping myself busy while I waited for you to finish. I answered."
He saw Y/N keep her gaze on him, head held high, back straight, but Roman still sensed what was behind, tension, heavy air. It was since he said he would no longer have regrets that Roman had seen her react like this and in the last few days the atmosphere had gotten even worse. She didn't comment, didn't ask, she stopped trying to argue, she was good at not showing it, but his wolf could sense it when he lay down next to her at night, saw the way she looked at him. It wasn't a good idea for her to punish his cousins despite what they had done to him, she couldn't stand the prospect of a fight, she had promised to stand by his side no matter what and after a year she still rejected his mark when she shouldn't have even had to choose whether to have it or not, now she also took out the floor plan of her old house even though he had given her another one, one for them, better.
We told her not to act like this, she doesn't need that house. We did everything, we gave everything to her.
He had spent the last year dedicating himself to their bond, proving time and time again that he was worthy, that he would be a good mate for her, he was doing so even facing his own family. Shielding their future family even before their bloodline was born. Jey e Jimmy had ruined his plans, it wasn’t his fault, he was risking everything for what they would have built together, for their future. He had proven who he was, Y/N had to know, no one before him had ever achieved so much, no one would ever bear such a burden, there was no alpha out there on his level able to take care of her and anyone else. She couldn't think about them again, she couldn’t doubt, it was crazy!
- "What Im doing is to keep everything for us, protect what we have" – he explained to her for the umpteenth time, seeing Y/N stop that attempt of a smile understanding what direction their conversation was taking, as he approached the table.
He didn't like losing his temper with her, he didn't want to, but Y/N had a fastlane to pushing him in any situation and that was definitely the wrong one. Why she was throwing it in his face? At home, while he spent the days preparing to end the mess out there and start again together?!
- "You say it all the time, I know."
Her and her mouth…
- "Because that's the only thing that matters, not sitting here fantasizing about alternatives."
- "Ain't fantasizing about anything. You're so focused that we don't spend more than ten minutes together, I thought we could have a break for a bit, do something together when it's all over... but I guess it's a no if you react like that."
No, she couldn't blame him. This mess wasn't his fault, he was fixing it, it wasn't on him!
- "I don't have time to plan these things, not when I have all the work to do and problems keep piling up! I told you this too. You should have get it by now what has priority and instead we are here discussing because you keep putting these ideas in your head!"
- "My apologies, my Tribal Chief, is that good?" – he heard her reply, mocking him and he froze.
He looked at her angrily, as if they were back to the days when she couldn't stand him and he was always on the verge of exploding. He looked at her out of his mind, mouth twitching, but she wasn't even giving him attention, too busy keeping her eyes somewhere other than him, in an act of submission that was more a provocation than an apology. He ran a hand over his beard, clenching his jaw, but it was just too much and he lowered himself, leaning on the table to tower over her. Her scent, so familiar, usually so comforting, immediately filled his lungs, a regenerating peace that clashed with their fatigue and that Roman felt once more from Y/N, her body stiffening as soon as his breath hit her cheek.
He was the Tribal Chief and would remain so until God woke him up again. People out there could have planned trials, clashes, attacks, anything, nothing would have changed. But she was different, she was not one of those folks. Y/N might not have his mark, she might claim every freedom she wanted, Roman would put up with it to please her, to make her happy, because she deserved it, but still didn't change anything. They wouldn't go back to those hellish days where they were nothing.
- "I'm more than that to you" – he reminded, seeing her nod.
- "I know" – she replied immediately, finally turning around.
Her eyes, dark as the water of the river that ran through Roman’s land, almost seemed to suck him in. Two sharp chasms where he had looked for her for months, until found her huddled at the bottom waiting for him. Roman had dragged her out of there, he had given her everything, all of himself and he would do it again every day, without holding back or thinking about it and that was exactly why he was acting like that. If it wasn't for him, she would still be there, alone and with no future.
- "Make that stuff disappear before I do it" – he ordered, straightening up.
Y/N didn't move, her eyes still on him, as Roman decided he'd had enough of that pause, walking away. Her reaction reached him through the bond, when he crossed the threshold to go back inside: a mixture of anger, pain and sadness.
It hurts.
It hit him like a wave, alarming his wolf despite the fight, but it disappeared just as quickly, as if Y/N had wiped it away and Roman took a second to look at her through the windows, check, while she gathered everything on the table, head down and in silence.
He had to focus on what needed to be done. Distractions were just more problems.
We’re doing it for everyone. She will understand soon.
***
She had put everything back in his office, locking the desk drawer almost throwing away the key.
Why is he acting like this? What did we do wrong?
Her she-wolf felt confused, hurt and so was Y/N, with a good amount of anger on top of that. She was trying with all of herself, she was doing everything every day to make things work, to not disappoint him, to be up to the task, to not miss the opportunity for a good life. She had learned to ignore what didn't require a reaction, to be understanding when with anyone else would have freaked out, she was trying to be a better version of herself for her sake and for Roman. Was it such a bad idea? She knew Roman was fighting for their place, for his packland, but she hadn't suggested to leave everything and disappear, she would never have done it because she knew what it meant, she just thought they might have a safe space somewhere else... in a future less sad and complicated. That house was important to Y/N, she wanted to do her part, help, give back doing something like Roman had done with the house they lived in now, share.
It's already his though.
His property... that's why he snapped?
Roman had considered it a waste of time, a fantasy to be put away... after all, why he should pay attention to something no one wanted to take away at that moment? something far from his family war, from the packland. It already belonged to him, her she-wolf was right to justify him, Y/N had pushed him first, there was nothing to share or fix there and Jimmy's words came back to her mind. She had thought about doing something for them and instead she had really wasted time.
“The house… you bought it to give her nowhere to run away from you.”
It was a gift. For us.
Roman had said so and Y/N had felt so special. But it had his name on it, everything, every sheet of paper.
He wanted to make us happy. The best for us.
“I don't want you to go there, okay? This is your place now, it's your home and you have to stay here. But one day maybe we can fix it and go together.”
One day. Maybe…
Together.
Maybe? now the memory sounded like a dad tricking his daughter into not throwing a tantrum.
Smell of aftershave mixed with something familiar distracted Y/N, reminding her that she was still in the office and she turned to stare at the door just before seeing Paul arrive with a folder of documents in his arms.
- "Y/N! I thought you were out for one of your runs" – he said after a second too long, tone surprised and suspicious, as he looked at her standing there –"… you alright? "
No one was allowed to go upstairs unless it was necessary, but business those days seemed a matter of life and death, so it was hardly surprising. The last safe place for her would have been the bathroom.
- "You seem a bit…"
- "Take comments for yourself, there's no point in having a conversation" – she said, moving away from the desk with the intention of disappearing, but Paul wouldn't have been Paul if he hadn't decided to ruin her day already messed up.
- "Of course not, but I think you’ll want to know I went to talk with the twins. Didn’t go as hoped. Jey… he doesn't listen" – he admitted with disappointment, taking her place to add more documents to those already placed everywhere and Y/N finally recognized what that other scent on him was.
- "He doesn't like you, it was pretty obvious."
The idea of talking sense to Jey had been stupid. Maybe Jimmy could have been a possibility even if he was the one who started shit, he would have talked to a wall regardless of his sympathies, but Jey? No, Jey wasn't made for those things and both him and Y/N shared the same opinion of Paul. Sure he had had more time to learn to tolerate the so called wiseman, but Y/N had known from the very first moment he wouldn't accept any proposal Paul was going to make him.
- "You do though. He allowed Solo and you to stay if… well you know – he threw it there with such nonchalance, but she wasn't willing to tolerate, it was the wrong day – "he’s attached to you, he think about you as someone to protect."
What is he trying to say?!
- "What I know is that they shouldn't fight and that you Paul, said you would make sure to avoid it."
The brilliant idea of saving her during the meeting a few days before had taken Y/N by surprise too, there was no agreement or plan behind it, she didn't even know why at that moment, with everything that was happening, Jey had decided to expose himself for her. She was almost absolutely certain it wasn't something normal in situations like the one they were in, she was Roman's mate and Jey was threatening to take everything away from him after all, but whatever was the reason it didn't matter because it wasn't what they needed to focus on, especially not Paul.
- "I fear that stopping everything is no longer an option, we don’t have time, they have sworn in front of the family now. Neither of them can back out" – heard him say with a funeral face that didn’t inspire pity in her.
- "So that ridicolous meeting was the point of no return?!" – she snapped and he choked, hands reaching out in an attempt to stop her when Y/N nerves were undergoing yet another stress test.
She respected Roman's family, she respected their traditions, but it was unthinkable to Y/N that a handshake was an unbreakable pact, not when both sides were risking everything and whoever was supposed to advise them, stop them, watched or made things worse. She couldn't, it was something she couldn’t understand. They were a family, they had to act like a family, not fighting.
- "I wouldn't talk like that, let's try to breath now okay? Think about it. There are other ways to swing things in our favor, I'm already working on something. An idea in the right ears works wonders."
- "You're working on something" – she repeated, feeling blood go straight to her head.
Yep, sure, after all they had time to act with calm, there was a week to go and everything was already a disaster, but who cared? They could also sit, chat, think and judge who remained to be sacrificed so they could sip a drink under the patio when their bright future would be on hand.
- "I know, I understand your concern, but if you decided to be more cooperative it would help a lot and speed things up. The twins are stubborn, but Jey making all these decisions on his own could work to our advantage if we prove that he isn't capable of"- he tried, but it wasn't the right day for her to listen his sneaky little games.
- "I won't help you making anyone believe anything. You are the wiseman, be the wiseman, find a way, just do it" – she silenced him, leaving the office without waiting an answer.
She wanted that fight, everything to end once and for all, she wanted to go back to months ago when Y/N had thought she could have everything missing in her life, she wanted a family, Roman to annoy her with his daily nonsense instead of dramas to survive and manipulations on a daily basis. She was tired and for the first time since the beginning even if she tried hard… she couldn't see the end.
Breath. Calm down. Don’t lose control, we can’t allow it. Breath.
***
Right, left, right, left, right, left again. The punching bag was easy to predict every time Roman hit it, Jey wouldn't follow those times when they would have been face to face. At some point he would shift, it was the only way he had to really bring Roman down. As both man and wolf, Roman was bigger than his cousin, bruises and broken bones wouldn't keep him down once they were out there, Jey would have to do more and to do so he would have no choice. He was fast, he would aim for multiple points, targeting him, Roman only needed one, the right one, like with the punching bag.
When he hit it seriously, the chain holding it up gave way, sending it down and putting Roman face to face with Solo, standing silently there, even though he hadn't asked to see him.
- "What's up?" – he asked, catching his breath and kicking the punching bag away.
- "He was talking to Y/N upstairs" – Solo said, without mincing words and Roman stopped, staring at him, his sweaty brow furrowed in an attempt to understand.
Y/N couldn't stand the wiseman. She had never liked him, from the first day, it had taken months to convince her to not growl when he approached and now they were talking? Alone upstairs, while he was there training?
- "About what?" – Roman asked, but Solo shrugged his shoulders in a heavy silence Roman had to accept, hiding his annoyance with a grimace.
First in his land. Then in his family. Now in his house. No… not that time.
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