#» ;( ¿ Beyond The Heavy Waves ( ooc )

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe. This technically takes place in my series "Take A Chance On Me," after Soldier Boy and the reader have become a couple, but can be read as stand alone. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Series Masterlist

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Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

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Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Take A Chance On Me Series, please let me know :)

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my other series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words. Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

Pairing: Rook x Gn!Yuu/Prefect/Reader x Vil

Genre: Fluff

TW: Underage drinking, mentions of being very drunk, Rook and Vil are most definitely ooc (cause they're drunk)

A.N: For the record, I am not trying to encourage underage drinking. That is not my intention. I just had a funny story told to me by my aunt that inspired this. Again, not trying to encourage underage drinking or heavy drinking (drink responsibly and only after you come of age please).

If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words.

After all, Rook would never willingly compromise himself by drinking to the point where he couldn't walk without stumbling. He was a hunter; his sharp senses were his pride, and alcohol muddles the senses, rendering them dull. The idea of such loss of control over his actions may be a bit tempting, but you knew he wouldn't be as irresponsible as to have alcohol on a school night.

The same could be said for Vil. He was comfortable with showing you and Rook more of his natural and less put-together side, but he would not exactly let himself be drunk to the point where he slurred his words, each syllable melting into the next as he attempted to communicate with you. Not just to keep his dignified and elegant image, but also because of how horrible the hangover on the next day would be for him (he was a lightweight who learned it the hard way after getting into his father's special alcohol stash one day).

Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

You sighed as you looked at the two boys who had all but broken the door to Ramshackle down. The pounding on the door (courtesy of Rook, who was also saying something that sounded like an essay in French as he stood outside your dorm) had woken you up from where you had fallen asleep completing assignments. You could still remember Grim's confused "Mrah?!" as he walked over and opened the front door for the two, bolting upstairs when the stink of alcohol became too much for his poor sensitive nose to bear.

Somehow, you had managed to bring the two inside, to the guest room, where they were both sprawled in a messy heap of limbs on a couch. It would have been a little cute, had they not been absolutely hammered beyond belief.

"Mon cher Trickster~" Rook hummed, eyes sly and captivating even as they drooped from the influence of alcohol. "Come nearer, and allow me... allow me the privilege of... basking in your glory..."

His voice was smooth and silky, and if it weren't for the way you saw him struggle like a newborn fawn just moments ago, you would have believed him to still be somewhat sober.

Vil, meanwhile, was just staring up at you with an awe-struck look on his face, eyes wide and shiny. Cheeks warm and a soft red from whatever he drank, he seemed content to just watch you as you stood in front of them wondering what to do. You looked over their appearance. Both the Pomefiore boys looked as beautiful as ever, even with their very obviously inebriated actions and reactions.

"What did you two drink? And how much?" You asked Rook, crouching slightly to reach his eye level. Rook scrunched his nose, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to remember; meanwhile your eyes focused on the freckles that had begun making their appearance after hours of being hidden beneath makeup.

"Apple... juice," Rook said, head tilting towards you as he answered your question. "Just... apple juice," Vil agreed, words mixing in his mouth even as he answered you with all the seriousness of a five year old trying to tell his mother that he had not had any cookies before dinner.

"You two don't seem like you had just apple juice though," you hummed, holding back a smile as Vil pouted at your words. Before he could voice any protests, you lightly patted his head, running your fingers through the silky blonde strands. Vil melted under your tender touch, eyes closing in bliss as he rested his head on Rook's chest.

"Stay," you ordered him, much in the way Crewel would with his students, but with a marked gentleness to your tone. Vil nodded, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you tried to make them more comfortable on the couch. Coaxing Rook to get up just a little for you to slip a pillow under his head, getting one of the blankets Vil had gotten especially for you, he watched you do every little thing to make their impromptu sleepover more comfortable for them.

Rook had fallen asleep by the time you finished making arrangements for the two of them to sleep somewhat comfortably. While you would have preferred to get them to your room and on an actual bed, they did not seem to be in any condition to climb the rickety stairs Ramshackle was famous for.

Ruffling Rook and Vil's hair one last time, you turned to move... only to be held back by a hand closing around your wrist. Your eyes trailed down your arm, an amused expression on your face as you saw Vil holding onto you.

"Yes, Vil?"

"Stay," Vil mirrored your words from before, the softly uttered command lacking the impact it otherwise would have had on you. Dewy eyes looked up at you, and a gentle "Please.." slipped through his lips, tugging at your heart strings the way he was tugging at your wrist.

You chuckled and acquiesced, sitting down in front of the couch with your wrist still in his grasp. Moving Rook's hand out of the way, you laid your head on the edge of the couch, looking into amethyst eyes. Eyes that softened with sleep and contentment as he watched you settle down near the two of them.

He stubbornly tried to remain awake, even as his eyelids kept drooping in protest. You, who had already had quite a restful nap (thanks to Professor Trein's homework) kept watching him in thinly veiled amusement and adoration for a few minutes, before speaking to him in a gentle tone. "You should go to sleep Vil. It's late."

A petulant pout was directed at you, and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks. "Come on, you need to sleep. It's important for a healthy and glowing skin, y'know," you hummed, using his own words (that he used nearly everyday for you) for him. His eyelids drooped even lower at the warmth in your voice, yet he stubbornly kept looking at you.

"I'm not going anywhere, Vil. I promise."

Finally, the male seemed satisfied with what you said. At least, that's what you figured from the way his eyes fully closed and remained closed, his breathing gradually slowing down as he fell into a deep sleep.

Your hand was still held in his. While his grip had loosened in his sleep... you did promise to stay.

Well, there were more uncomfortable places and positions you could have slept in.

[idc4987]

The Cursed Queen | Part One

*a/n: flashbacks in italics, slightly ooc aegon but i feel like he was a sweet young boy at times*

Late Summer, 129 AC

"You are distracted, Aenessa."

Daemon observed from above as the young woman sparred against one of the squires.

In the ten years that had passed, Rhaenerya's daughter had grown beautifully. She wore the scars on her arms like trophies and became more resilient against the urges in her mind. Daemon instructed her training personally. He'd taught her that to strengthen her body, her mind had to become strong first. Daemon taught her, in the kindest way possible, that being vulnerable was acceptable only off of the battlefield. But he'd also taught her that nearly every place she travelled to, there would be someone who wished to start a fight. Aenessa knew she had to abandon her fears if she wished to succeed as her Mother's heir. There was no place to be childish and no time to worry over the simplest of things. Aenessa had to heal from her curse and push away her mind.

It took moons to master, but, in the end, Daemon was beyond proud to call her his apprentice. She truly was an artist with a blade and a masterful presence in court.

Despite how much Daemon doted on her, he always knew there was a silent competitor. Their relationship with one another was close to Aenessa's tight bond with her true father. Although they had little time spent with each other, Aenessa was certainly her father's little princess. It nearly made Daemon for remorseful for helping him escape from the life of royalty. But after years of being married to her mother, Aenessa loved Daemon equally.

"Mother has another line of suitors prepared for today." She scoffed as a fowl look spread across her features. It was what had awakened the Dragon princess so early. "I think being slightly worried is reasonable." Aenessa retorted, parrying the strike that the squire attempted to land on her.

It had been the same for months. Since Aenessa twentieth nameday, her mother resumed the duties of a royal. Aenessa was to marry. Whether it was for the sake of the crown or the sake of their house, Aenessa didn't know why her mother was so persistent about it. "Of course, but I didn't say you looked worried." Daemon quipped smartly. He had left the balcony from above and entered the training field, unsheithing Dark Sister from the belt at his side. "You are distracted." Daemon dismissed the sweating squire with a wave of his hand. Aenessa had been running circles around the boy for the last hour. He deserved a break before he dropped dead. "You must focus."

Aenessa quickly changed the subject, cracking her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders. "Strike me as you did during our last session. I wish to try to again, see where I went wrong." The bun of heavy dreadlocks was still tight upon her head and it caused her brow to glisten with sweat. The early morning sun was slowly affecting her ability, she was getting physically tired but still wishing to continue.

Daemon smirked. "As you wish."

~~~~~~

The matchmaking process for Aenessa had been quite exciting at first. She enjoyed being desired. The little girl in her still delighted when a handsome young man, around her age of course, smiled in her direction. But it had slowly become tiresome. The gifts morphed into a mountain in the corner of her rooms. Half of them were empty chocolate boxes that Baela and Rhaena had gorged themselves on as Aenessa wasn't looking. The dresses were all too small or enormous and Aenessa wrestled her way out of the ones that fit due to the unbearably itchy fabric. The idea of courting a man didn't sway in her mind when each turn in front of the looking glass sent her reeling. Aenessa had learned to embrace her scars and the curves that she'd earned from turning into a young woman, but it didn't stop the self-criticising demon in her mind.

It caused her to spend nearly everyday in her training clothes, much to her ladys' maids dismay. Her boots were grubby, coated in the dusty sand that she trained on. Her face was still coated in a layer of sweat, her cheeks flushed and puffed out as she regained her breath. Her hair was always in the same style and her nails were chipped and dirty. The 'cursed' princess of King's Landing had turned into the rebel of Dragonstone, much to Daemon's delight.

"And for you, my princess, I bring forth ten of my finest pigs. They are prize worthy beasts-"

Aenessa blocked out the rest of what the young Lord was attempting to preach to her. She had made eye contact with Jace and Luce and nearly burst into fits of laughter at the faces they were making.

Since leaving Kings Landing, Aenessa had become more bold. It was all thanks to her Granduncle Daemon, something Aenessa knew made her truly indebted to him. Her Mother both despised and loved that her daughter had become more confident in herself. Aenessa spoke more, voiced her opinions on topics she wouldn't have done years prior. The blooming pride Rhaenerya felt was indistinguishable. But at times like this, where the old Aenessa was meant to shine through, Rhaenerya rolled her eyes at her smugness.

"I do believe the princess is bored, dearest." Daemon chuckled into her ear as they both watched Aenessa force herself to conceal her laughter behind a cough.

Rhaenerya sighed. If she gave in now, she had no idea when the next chance to find Aenessa a husband would be. Word had come from Rhaenys. Vaemond Velaryon was taking advantage of Lord Corlys' illness and had called for court. He wished to stand against Jacerys' claim as Lord of The Tides. It was no longer against Luce after Rhaenerya had named her daughter as her air. They had to travel to the Red Keep to attend to court. Rhaenerya had not yet confessed the arranged journey was happening to Aenessa. "Thank you for attending today's gathering, my Lord's. House Targaryen thanks you all for the gifts and honours you have displayed today, but i fear we must adjourn." She almost instinctively touched her growing belly to silently explain why they were ending so early. There were a few groans and huffs from various men in the room, but Aenessa was smirking widely.

She hopped down from the throne that had been specifically prepared for her and hugged Rhaenerya. "You saved me, Mother." Aenessa laughed, knowing she was only getting on her Mother's nerves even more than she had been.

"Go and prepare for supper, you filthy beast." Rhaenerya teased affectionately as she held her daughter's face in her hands.

Daemon spoke quietly to his wife once Aenessa had left them, all three of her younger brothers battling for her attention. "Is she still unaware?"

Rhaenerya looked down at her feet, clearly guilty. "I haven't had the strength to tell her yet. She's been peaceful these past few nights."

Daemon understood the otherwise cryptic messages from his wife. Aenessa had been 'peaceful' for the past week. Daemon didn't have to be clever to realise that, his body had told him before anything else. It thanked him for the extra sleep every morning with cracking bones and a refreshed feeling. "I shall tell her if you do not wish to, my darling." He pressed a kiss to Rhaenerya's forehead and raised a finger to lift her chin up. "She will be fine."

~~~~~~

"You are beautiful, though. I don't understand why you do not believe me." A ten year old Aegon huffed indignantly. He had been arguing with Aenessa for almost an hour after they sat for their annual portraits. It had started after Aenessa quietly sobbed into his shoulder about how ridiculous she looked. The royal painter had portrayed her with much paler skin and made her hair considerably lighter than it was. Aenessa despised how uneven it was, the locks of white Valyrian hair from her Mother's side messed with the brown locks from her grandmother Rhaenys' Baratheon heritage. But what the painter had done to her hair made it even worse.

"Nessa?" Aegon nudged her lightly with his elbow.

"Stop lying." She mumbled, clenching her fists around the blue silk of her skirt.

Aegon looked at the girl, astonished that she did not believe him and accuse him of doing such a thing. "I am not!" He protested. "You are beautiful, there is no debate around it." Sometimes, Aegon did wonder if his Nessa saw the same person he did. "Why do you not think you are beautiful?" He exhaled loudly. Aegon realised he was fighting on the losing side of this battle and that maybe he should listen to Aenessa's reasoning.

"Because I am smart and I can see properly." Aenessa said, matter-of-factly.

"W-well if seeing you as beautiful makes me stupid, than I shall be the stupidest of them all." Aegon said with equal amounts of confidence. "I shall have Father make a decree that any man who sees you as beautiful will be made into one of his lords." He declared loudly, standing up from the bench they were sat on as though he were a mighty knight.

"Would that not be a silly decision? They are stupid, after all." Aenessa argued, thinking over his outrageous statement.

Aegon shrugged. "All the current lords are stupid, I'm certain they wouldn't mind a few more."

"You are peculiar, Aegon." Aenessa giggled, a wide, toothy smile breaking out across her face.

Aegon smirked, pride rising in his chest as he successfully brightened his best friend's mood. "And you are beautiful, my little Nessa."

~~~~~~

Aenessa shook away the memory and continued fixing her dress in front of the mirror on her wall. Despite how much she wanted to see Aegon as a liar, the comment from her childhood always made getting dressed every morning the slightest bit more bearable.

"Nessa?" Aenessa was torn from her thoughts by a small, muffled voice from outside her door. "Are you ready for supper, Sister?" It was Joffrey. He cracked open the door and peeked around the edge of it with a wide smile on his face. Aenessa opened her arms for him and squeezed him tightly as he ran in for a hug. Joffrey let out a squeal as she span him around in the air.

"Where is Nanny, my little dragon?" She asked, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. When Joffrey admitted to running away from her, Aenessa couldn't help but chuckle. He'd clearly spent far too much time with Luce and was slowly catching his prankster attitude. Aenessa always found herself laughing around her youngest brother. Joffrey was the most innocent of them all and it showed as clear as day with how he influenced everyone around him like a beam of sunlight. "Let us go for supper, then. If you've spent all day running away from Nanny, your stomach shall begin growling as loud as Greyghost soon."

At the mention of Aenessa's beloved dragon, Joffrey began a torrential story about his latest painting.

Greyghost was rumoured to be an unclaimable dragon that haunted the smoking volcano on the eastern side of Dragonmont. Without a rider on his back, Greyghost was known to be skittish and fearful of both dragons and humans. Aenessa bonded with him on her ninth nameday after escaping from the castle when the celebrations became to much for her to handle. The Baratheon girls had been bullying her for an unknown reason and Aenessa fled from the ballroom, eventually finding herself outside the castle walls in the cold night air. Greyghost appeared out of thin air. He was a gorgeous creature with a thick armour of greyish white scales and a fascinating map of scars across his body. Aenessa had seen dragons before many times, but being almost nose to nose with one was an entirely new experience.

With quivering lips and shaking hands, Aenessa spoke in High Valyrian as she raised her palm to the snout of the so-called 'unclaimable' dragon. Her pronunciation was terrible at the time, but Aenessa squealed in delight as the dragon nuzzled against her.

Joffrey gasped moments before Aenessa reached the door to the dining hall, finally halting in his frantic recount of the day and breaking her from her thoughts once again. "You won't tell Mother, will you?" He asked nervously, clutching at the neckline of his sister's dress.

She had walked the entire way there, from one side of the castle to the other, with him bouncing up and down on her hip.

"Promise you won't tell, Nessa." Joffrey pleaded with a face that he knew she couldn't resist.

Aenessa paused in thought to trick her brother. It looked as though she would deny his request and Joffrey's face fell. "Of course, my little dragon. I won't say a word." She squeezed him teasingly and nodded to the guards as a signal to open the doors.

The other Velaryon boys were already seated at the dining table in an intense staring contest, time-wasting as their Mother insisted on waiting for the others. Daemon was proudly slouched in his chair at the head of the table when the doors opened with Rhaenyra at his side. Once Joffrey wriggled from her grasp, Aenessa apologised for making them wait for so long and took her normal seat at the table.

"Tis' quite alright, dearest. You have had a long day." Rhaenyra reassured her. "I'm sure your considerate brothers can manage waiting a few minutes before dining." She added with a glare to Jace and Lucerys. They were both aware and fully prepared for the journey that they'd be making to King's Landing the next morning. All Rhaenrya had asked of them was to be considerate and not sarcastic. Returning to King's Landing was going to be a difficult journey for all of them.

*introduction* / *part two*

[comatosebunny09]

Devotion [ Pt. 3 ]

Summary: You have been his faithful bodyguard for years, and a dear friend of his for much longer. Can you blame him for wanting something beyond that of a loyal subject and king?

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Modern AU

Warnings: OOC!Kyojuro, Female!Reader

Tag List:

@mekkencspony, @gintokisslave , @mistyroselove, @wifeofgeto, @simpforerensattacktitan, @bustywaifu, @buzylizbee, @moonshinewisteria, @milkby11

I’m sorry if I missed anyone who wanted to be tagged in the update. Please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

You almost don’t, but then you do, and that’s what leads to this.

A traitorous sigh tears itself from your lips, drawing the attention of your fiery-haired charge. Embarrassment dons your features, a frigid spike of adrenaline pricking your veins. He casts you a sidelong glance. Mirth swims in his gold-fringed eyes.

You know all too well what that look means. His Majesty is in a playful mood.

“Are you alright, dear friend?” he mumbles, loud enough for only you to hear. No matter the scene, his voice always captivates you.    

You clear your throat, straightening your back. Fight down the giddiness that burbles in your chest. Mutter an apology, fastening your eyes to the textured wall ahead. You hope this is the end of your exchange, but…

His Majesty is a stubborn man.

“Are you bored?” he presses, ignoring the monotonous prattle of the woman seated across from him.

Kind of, you want to say. You don’t really care for politics. Never delve into the semantics of royalty. As long as you’re given orders—and a nice paycheck—nothing else about your occupation really matters.

Well, nothing except protecting your friend-turned-king with your life.

Besides, being a guard is more fun than being a tactician, if Sanemi’s perpetual glower is anything to go by.

You don’t respond. It’s best to stay in your lane. But, as mentioned before, your king is as persistent as he is handsome.

“I don’t blame you if you are,” he exhales, resting his cheek in his palm. “She’s not very entertaining, is she? Nor is she very bright.”

A snort threatens to make itself known; you have to maintain some level of decorum in the face of your wayward king. “Majesty!” you scold, to which he smirks. Suddenly, the audible rattle of porcelain disrupts your childish banter.

“I’m sorry,” the duchess begins, voice drizzled with venom, “am I interrupting something?” Her violet eyes overflow with irritation, flitting between you and your Infernian king.

“Not at all,” he counters, sitting up in his seat, brilliant smile in play. “Please, continue!”

She inspects you thoroughly beneath dark lashes. Red-tinged lips pulled into a tight line. She’s never really cared for you, Duchess Kaede of Iglacia. Made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions, remarking that your inappropriately familiar relationship with the king would someday jeopardize his throne.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling heavy under her scrutiny.

Like you aren’t reminded of this every day. That’s why you pointedly ignore his advances, no matter how frequent and blatant they have become lately. You’re not fit to be a contender for his affections; not fit to be a queen.

Her eyes finally leave your form, alighting on the center of your ruminations.

“Your Majesty,” she drawls from across the oakwood table, voice dripping with devilry. “Is it necessary for your lapdog to be here?”

Lap…

Lapdog?

I’m sorry, what?

In that moment, it takes all of you not to scream.

Your nostrils flare. You glare at the woman, brows creased in indignation. A sinister smirk curls the brunette’s lips; she knows what it takes to get under your skin. You hold back a growl, jaw clenched, hands clasped tightly behind your back.

How dare she call you a dog.

He feels it rolling off you in waves; the rage slowly penetrating the room. Raises a hand to calm you. He peeks at you over his shoulder, mischievousness gleaming in his eye.

“Down, girl,” he mutters.

So, he wants to play along with these dog jokes too, then?

He looks to his guest, chin atop his folded hands, a sickeningly sweet grin working its way onto his face. Having known the king for so long, you can easily sense his own vexation. He does a much better job at masking it than you, however, as he sits forward with his elbows pressed onto the lacquered wood.

“My Lady,” he begins in a false honeyed tone. The duchess straightens in her seat, shame written into her countenance. You wretch internally as redness creeps into her cheeks. “I would very much appreciate it if you did not insult my friend here!” He couples his request with a forced, thunderous laugh to dispel the pregnant air.

She looks at her lap, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “M-my apologies, Your Majesty. That was very inappropriate of me.” Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I was just hoping that you and I could have a little time to catch up. Alone.”

You bristle, swallowing a string of profanities. Surely, she can’t be serious. It is very rare for you to leave his side whilst you are on duty, no matter how much brass his guests boast. You’re his bodyguard, for Christ’s sake.  

His Majesty calls your name after some time has passed, dispersing your thoughts and bringing you to attention. “Sorry, dear friend,” he says, repentance swimming in his timbre. “Would you mind giving us some space for a little while?”

You give him a pensive look; fix your mouth to protest, but...

His expression softens whilst he tosses you a wink over his shoulder. “I will be fine. I promise.”

You reply with a curt nod, stepping back and excusing yourself. Before pivoting on your heel, you chance a glance in her direction. You do not miss how she brims with satisfaction. Your boots click loudly against the glistening marble floor, though the sound cannot contend with your heart thumping wildly in your ears.

Before the large, ornate doors of the dining hall close behind you, you hear the lecherous woman say to your king…

“So, Your Majesty. I heard that you were in need of a queen.”

On the other side, you’re a mess of fury, anguish, and unease. You’re not sure what’s more upsetting; being made to look like a fool in front of your king, or the implications of her statement before your departure. Whatever the reason—

“She doesn’t like you very much, you know?” states Kanroji Mitsuri, painting the corner of your vision with her striking, blush hair.

“I gathered that.”

The woman titters cutely, maintaining her posture beside you. Though you dwarf her by a few inches, her aura is imposing, masked by her girlish demeanor. “I don’t think she likes anyone she perceives as competition.”

This time, you do snort. “Competition? For what?”

Suddenly, Mitsuri thrusts herself into your face, nearly headbutting you. Does no-one believe in personal space anymore? She squirms, cheeks flushed, shy smile tucked beneath her hands. Her voice jumps an octave as she practically squeals, “for the King’s eye, of course!”

You sputter, brow twitching. “I don’t—"

“Anyone with eyes can see how you hold his heart! I am so envious of the love that simmers between you two!”

A nervous chuckle wrenches itself from your throat. You wouldn’t go so far as to call it love. It’s more-so devotion to your friend and his throne. Sure, your feelings for him are deeply rooted like a stubborn pine. You would be foolish to deny your attraction to him. However, you have made it perfectly clear that you two couldn’t possibly have a relationship beyond that of a king and his subject.  

You take a step back, resisting the urge to pat Mitsuri on the head. Though sworn to protect the vile duchess, you have always treated your fellow guard as an equal rather than a rival.

“There is nothing going on between us,” you say, not entirely sure who you’re trying to convince.

Her eyes slit like Cheshire cat, grin growing tenfold. “Does he know that? Do you honestly believe that?”

How is she so young, yet so perceptive?

She gazes at you for a few moments longer. You swear that you see her pupils morph into hearts. Having effectively unsettled you, Mitsuri finally returns to her side of the door. Her smugness still grips you in its insufferable clutches. You sigh, brows furrowing.

“You know, I really dislike it when you make a point.”

She giggles softly, the sound infectious. Comfortable silence settles on your shoulders. Deciding to distract yourself from the pervasive thoughts of your king, you ask a question that’s sat in the darkened recesses of your mind for months.

“So, did she really murder her husband?”

Mitsuri blanches, color draining from her face.

“I-I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, she did.”

She shoots you an exasperated look, earning your quiet laugh in reply.

The rest of your time is filled with idle chatter. You decide that Mitsuri would make an excellent companion if not for her living a continent over. She is partway through a silly anecdote about her days as a civilian before the large dining room doors groan to life behind you...

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[gxrlcinema]

A SHADOW IN YOUR CAVE (DRABBLE)

PAIRING: Bucky x Reader

SUMMARY: Bucky can’t fix what’s wrong, but he can illuminate things for you.

A/N: I'm having a hard time mentally at the moment and have been struggling for the energy to write and edit fics. I'm sorry if this isn't my usual quality (or if it is, I guess). Thank you guys for all your support.

WARNINGS: general depictions of depression, hurt/comfort I guess, perhaps OOC for Bucky, no proofreading we die like we kinda want to

WC: 1159

BUCKY MASTERLIST // FULL MASTERLIST

There’s a day you’ve been having for weeks now and it goes like this: Your chest feels both hollow and heavy at the same time, the cavernous weight dragging your eyelids, shoulders, and smile down. Beyond your window the leaves are changing, turning all different shades of gold just to mock you in your stagnation. Sometimes in the early afternoon, you walk downstairs just to haunt the kitchen for a few minutes, unable to decide how to nourish yourself and incapable of mustering up any desire to do so. You flick through social media in a desperate, dispassionate search for anything that will spark something in you. You find yourself under the covers in the dark at 3 PM, the memory of how you got there hazy.

Which is where you are now, your phone screen letting you know that you’re right on schedule at 3:15 (at least you can do something reliably). It’s unfair really; you’d done everything right today. You’d woken up on time, taken your meds, opened the blinds, eaten breakfast, washed your face, brushed your teeth, started your work on time, replied to a few texts to make sure you still have friends whenever you’re feeling better. (You haven’t done everything right, your mind chides. Showering, putting on clothes and going for a walk all stick out in your mind, a glaring red F at the top of your “functioning human” test. You glare back. Those things are simply not happening today.)

Your therapist would tell you to reach out - a friend, a family member, your loving boyfriend who has begged you to call him when you feel like this - but it doesn’t seem like you can. Like the prisoner chained to the wall, you can not really participate in reality. Your chest is a cavern, your loved ones are just shadows on the walls of your cave.

The tears crash over you like a wave, pulling you down into the familiar rhythmic current of your own sobbing. You are all too willing to drown. You don’t know when you fall asleep.

When you wake, there is light in your eyes. It takes you a moment to become aware of your surroundings, realizing that the bedroom door has opened and the brightness you’re experiencing comes from the hallway. You sit up and squint, just making out the silhouette of a broad figure against the light.

“Bucky?”

Your voice is quiet, cracked and waterlogged like a sinking ship.

“It’s me, honey.”

Your boyfriend’s voice is soft. Your cheeks still burn with the shame of being caught like this.

Bucky’s silhouette moves through the dark of your bedroom, coming to sit on the bed next to you. Now that he’s nearer you can make out the planes of his face, scrunched up in worry. Bucky takes you in as well, assessing you with the precision of a marksman.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, once he’s concluded it’s safe to do so.

“It’s stupid,” you mutter.

Bucky gives you a sad smile. “It’s always stupid,” he replies.

The tears from the afternoon prick at your eyes again. He means it in a kind way. You always say that what you’re crying over is stupid. It is stupid, you reason, to cry for nothing. As though the cave in your chest just possesses you randomly (as though you’d have to admit it’s not your fault, the Sam Wilson in your head chides).

You choke out a sob again, the crack sending tremors to your shoulders and a wobble to your chin. Bucky wraps his arms around you, cradling the back of your head against his chest. He shushes you quietly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into the top of your head. The kindness only further chokes you, makes you feel like you’re drowning in undeserved warmth. Your chest heaves.

“It’s not okay,” you spit, venom coating your tongue. “You just got home after weeks of me not seeing you and I’m-” you don’t have enough words for what exactly you are, “this.”

You can feel Bucky’s responding frown against your head.

“Hey, look at me,” he says.

You shake your head. Bucky shifts his arms around so that his left arm can still hold you, while bringing his right hand up under your chin. He tips your chin up.

“I love this,” he smiles, widening the cave in your chest when you can’t muster a smile back. “If you want to talk about it, I’ve got ears. And if you just want to sit in it with someone, I’ve got time.”

It’s the same thing you told him, the first time he had a panic attack around you. It’s the same thing he repeats to you, every time you get like this. Bucky presses a quick soft kiss to your lips, before settling back against the headboard on your bed, getting comfortable. He pulls you back against his chest, stroking a hand through your hair.

The thing about Bucky is that everytime he gives you that line, he means it. He will wait in the dark for you to be ready to face the light again. You kind of hate him for it. Bucky Barnes is a battering ram to your defenses, breaking down the doors between you and hope. Sometimes, you can’t help your urge to convince him otherwise.“Maybe I’m just a broken person, Buck,” you tell your dark bedroom. “Maybe I’m just made of jagged edges, and anyone that tries to hold me will only cut their hands.”

You’re expecting a scowl when you turn your head to look at him, but instead you’re met with a megawatt grin.

“I’ve got a whole vibranium arm, baby. You can’t cut me.”

On your better days, it would make you laugh out loud, your super assassin being so cheesy and saccharine. Your chest is still pulling you down, too heavy to give you even a smile, but your lips twitch upwards. Bucky’s smile gets even brighter.

“Dinner in bed?” he asks, giving you a peck on the lips.

You groan, the thought of Bucky leaving your side already too much to bear, but nod anyway. “Dinner in bed.”

Bucky gently removes his arms from you, standing from the bed. He strides over to the door, making sure to open the door all the way, letting more light into your space.

“Holler if you need anything,” he smiles over his shoulder.

Your chest is still very much hollow and heavy. Fall and winter are harder for you, and they have been for years. You are still chained to the wall of your cave.

But Bucky reminds you that you are loved. That, even when you can’t call for them, they will be there for you. As long as Bucky’s around, you’re not alone.

For a second, your face cracks into a full blown smile. You don’t know how you got so lucky as to have his shadow in your cave.

[sketch-mer-6195]

Blanket Burrito (Rise!Donatello x Melanie {OFC})

Hello lovelies, this is my first time writing for the Rise! version of our beloved terrapin’s. I know Donnie may seem ooc and I am so sorry. But I had to write this for my Sugar, @asmosshampoo​.

Sweetheart, I hope you enjoy this! And Melanie is her OC. Not mine!

Word Count: 927 Genre: FLOOOOOOOOF! Comfort, if ya squint reaaaaaaly hard, you can see a wee bit of romance. (A/N: Mara is my oc, so yipee! We get a double wammy!)

If it wasn’t for the storms, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But with the heavy storms raking across New York City and even making the lair shake with each loud clap of thunder. Melanie was not happy all that much. She thought that visiting her boyfriend and his brothers would shield her from the storms up above. But alas, it was to no avail that she could avoid the thunderous boom from the heavens above. And to make matters worse. Pre-period cramps. Y’know, the ones that are either a long and annoying pain… or the ones that makes you go into the fetal position and not open up for no one. Not even for her purple clad, genius of a terrapin, Donatello.

As Melanie made her way through the lair and to Donnie's lab, she was happily greeted by the small Android, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. who whizzed around her head happily.

"Mama! You're here?! What brings you here? I hope to see me!?" He whizzed in delight.

Although seeing the small Android made her smile internally, she could only muster a small smirk which set off alarm bells for S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. Setting off his scanners, he let out a dramatic gasp before flittering about in a hurry.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! Papa! Mama is not feeling good!" The little Android cried out in a shrill.

Meanwhile, a large explosion, happily contained in another section of the lab, went off and let out a huge puff of yellow smoke that smelled of… nacho cheese and refried beans?

Mikey…

The baby brother ran out, laughing hysterically with Mara in tow as they heard Donatello scream and curse them into oblivion. The two youngins waved at Melanie with huge smiles on their faces and covered in dust that was the same color as the smoke. 

"Mel!? Whatcha doing here? I thought you hated thunderstorms and all that?" Mara asked.

"I thought I'd check up on Donnie." Melanie replied and easily dodged a wrench that her boyfriend chucked blindly as he was coughing through the cheesy smoke.

Mikey quickly picked up Mara and threw her over his shoulders, gave a little love tap on her bum and ran for their lives. "Gotta go, love you, bye, let's go Angel Cakes!"

How Mikey was able to snag a laid back girl and still be his hyper self and be as quick as Mayhem was and always will be a mystery of Dr. Delicate Touch. Melanie looked at S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N before turning her attention to her boyfriend who was beyond mad. So mad that he walked right past his girlfriend and made sure that his baby brother and girlfriend were long gone.

"And Don't You Dare Come Back Again, Heathens!!!" He barked out loud before turning around and letting out a frustrated sigh.

As he began to grumble about Mikey and Mara and their ingenious nacho bomb, Melanie cleared her throat which made the terrapin raise a brow and look up to see her. Donnie straightened his back to look stoic, only to let out a heavy sigh and let his shoulders slump and run his hands over his face.

“What’s wrong, Mel?” He groaned out.

But Melanie frowned and rubbed her arm nervously. “I was wondering, if you wanted to… y’know.” Her voice trailed off.

Donnie looked up and could see that she wasn’t acting her usual bubbly self. His little dove was nervous, he didn’t have to see it, he could just feel it in the air around them. Suddenly, a rather loud clap of thunder rang so loud from the surface that it rumbled loudly down in the lair. The electricity flickered and went out. Melanie let out a squeak of shock and ran to Donnie and wrapped her arms around him. She hid her face in his neck and shook like a leaf. Donnie caught her easily and softened like butter in her grasp. With such ease, he picked her up and walked her to his room. He had forgotten that she hated storms which made him feel bad that he hadn’t recognized it sooner. Activating his shell pack, the long arms opened the door to his room and immediately grabbed ahold of his comforter before wrapping them up like a big burrito.

Melanie looked up at him only to see her boyfriend smirking down at her and pressing a soft kiss to her hairline.

“I’m sorry, dove for my actions earlier. Is there anything else I can get you?” Donnie asked.

Smiling softly, she shook her head and nuzzled her nose back into his neck and let out a content sigh. “I’m better now, Donnie.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had followed them in and perched himself on the nearby night stand and activated a small light to give a low and comfortable ambiance in the room. Donnie smiled and closed his eyes and soon let out a soft chur which made Melanie open her eyes and look up at him. If he could blush, he would be a vibrant pink right about now. It was something that he hated. But with a small giggle, Melanie kissed his cheek and snuggled back up to him.

“I won’t tell anyone that you chur.” Melanie said before slowly succumbing to slumber.

Blinking down at her, he let out a small chuckle before closing his eyes and following suit. “Good, we don’t need any more annoyances. Sleep well my little dove.”

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

[perruvianily]

I'd like to try

Atsumu x gn! reader; floof

Warning/s ⚠: 1 swear word lmao, and possible ooc

Word Count ☜: 785

You look up from your book briefly to scan your surroundings. You're promptly disappointed that you are, in fact, not in the book, but in your boring school. The library's the closest you'll ever get to a world beyond your reach, a room full of imagination and wonder. You'd live here if you could—

Atsumu sits on the chair opposite to you and stares. You stare back, "What?”

"So. What's your answer?” He asks you, nervously patting the table with his hands.

"5 more minutes." You answer back, burying your face back into your book. "HEY—" A couple of people shush him, and he shrinks into his chair— "C'mon. 'ts just a yes or no. 'm dyin' here." He pleads at you, shrinking into his chair even more.

"Why are you so persistent, anyway?" You ask instead, "I'd make you do a ton of shit."

He perks up, "That's fine! I'd do it." You look up from your book only to see Atsumu's face light up at the possibility you'd actually say yes.

"I wouldn't if I were you." You glanced at him, "Why would you do it even? It'd be tiring."

Because I love you.

Atsumu shrinks down again, all his hope suddenly crushed. His determination doesn't falter, however, and he tries again. "I'll keep ya safe then! I'd punch people!" He says, eyes gleaming with hope. "No one gives me trouble anyway." You state, "and I can hit them with my book." You wave the book in Atsumu's face to prove your point— it's hardcover and heavy.

Atsumu pouts again, and you pity him a little. "But I dunno," He looks away from you, his voice growing smaller and smaller, "I think I could be someone you like."

You smile a little at that, hiding your face with your book once more. "What makes you think that?" You inquire, your tone turning lighthearted and teasing. Noticing your change in tone, he smiles a little, "Well" he starts, his confidence returning, "I can protect ya of course!"

"I already debunked that. Book." You raise your book a little, and he only smiles. "I can carry ya around too! And help ya out!"

You smile softly as you stare at the words on the page, "I get plenty of help, and why'd you even offer that? Isn't it too much effort?" He shrinks a little.

No, I'd do it.

His confidence is fading as fast as it came.

"What if I'm sad? What'd you do?” You ask him, fiddling with the edge of a page. His eyes brighten up again, "I'd stop ya from being sad!"

"That's not possible. There'll be times you can't." You look at him, studying his expression, "I might not be able to, y'know, fix ya up. Good as new. But I think it'll work. We'll work. I can hold your hand through it all." He says, trying to convince you he's the right choice.

"You're making it seem like you're perfect—" you hum, "NO, THAT'S NOT—” A few people shush him again, and he says a meek 'excuse me'. "That's not it. At all. Although I would like to think I'm perfect—" You clear your throat and he smiles sheepishly at you— "but that's not the case." He grows serious, still unable to look you in the eye. "I might not say 'I'm sorry' sometimes— Hey, don't look at me like that— Fine. I don't say sorry." His tone grows quieter, as if willing to admit something but not wanting anyone to hear. "But, I don't think that changes the fact I could be someone you like."

He's nervously fidgeting even when he has no reason to be. You're just asking him questions is all.

You hum a little at his answer, staring into the ceiling to think about it. He stares at you as you think, maybe he'll love you for a while. You look back at him as you prop your chin on your hand and laugh at him, "Why are you so persistent? What's with me?" You finally drop your book, turning your full attention to Atsumu. "What if it won't work, after all?” Your smile fades, and he knows you want a serious answer.

"Well—" he gulps, "I just think I'd like to try." He says, finally looking you in the eye.

You smile softly at him, a real smile, and his breath falters a little. Just a little. Your phone rings, displaying an alarm, 'Your timer ended 1 second ago' it says.

"Hm. 5 minutes is done already—" You say as you turn to him, then you smile again. A sweet, sweet smile— "Would you like your answer now?"

Tags: @sunarent @weewoo186

A/n: this is for the uh because i love you collab by @sunarent im not sure if this fits the theme, I'm so sorry but everyone was doing hurt/comfort and angst so I did some fluff to lighten the mood. i'm so sorry.

This is also inspired by Someone You Like, go listen to it, bonus points if u see the parts where i inserted some lines.

[cafeacademia]

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Draco reunites with his best friend after the war, but when they see each other again, unsaid feelings come to the surface.

Warnings: Some angst/sadness, talk of war, lots of fluff, oral (fem rec), sex.

Word count: Approx 3600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves! I really loved writing this one and I hope it came out well. Please let me know if Draco is too OOC, but I love playing with his softer side, especially post war. Enjoy! 💖 NOTE: Paragraphs in italics are memories

Taglist is open!

Draco lay awake, only one thing seemed to play on his mind as he allowed it to wander. It was a painful memory, one that lingered and nearly every time he closed his eyes, he saw you looking back at him with tears in your eyes. That was the last memory of you he had. And it hurt him deeply to know he’d done that to you. Of all of the things he had done in his life, hurting you was the thing he deeply regretted.

Please don’t forget me and all of the things we did.

His fingers traced over the written words, scribbled onto the back of a photograph he had given you, though now it was in his hands.

Draco sighed as he read the words over again, gently turning the photo over in his hands to see the image of you both together. He could almost feel the joy shared between you in that moment, had it not been for the pain it reminded him of. The loss that he faced.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Draco tried hard to hold his emotions in, but slowly, he was unravelling. The smart suit, the well styled hair, not a piece out of place, but it was all a front and it quickly came crashing down when the tears fell, his hands running through his hair, clinging harshly to the ashen locks, his tie feeling almost suffocating and Draco pulled at it until it was loose enough.

How could he have thrown it all away to appease someone that didn’t care for him? At least not cared for in the way he wanted to be. The way you cared for him.

It had always been secret. It had been rainy free periods you spent secretly up in a small tower room, nestled away atop a winding staircase that was tucked behind the portrait of a lady gilded in gold at Draco’s side. It had been hours spent in class, secretly trying to cast glances at one another, hoping you’d get paired together in practical studies. It was those moments in class that you had spent your time standing close to Draco, acting as if you barely knew each other beyond being classmates.

It had been those moments that you had harboured a secret of your own. A secret of your feelings towards the ashen haired Slytherin boy. It was the little touches, his fingers brushing against your hand under the table in class, it was lingering looks shared between you and uncontrollable smiles that you just couldn’t seem to calm until you looked away from him.

It was the way your heart fluttered when Draco said your name, the way he called you love and put his arm around you in that teasing manner. And you had wished it was real. That when he did those things that it was genuine, but you knew you’d never have that with Draco, so you cherished the secret friendship you had with him instead.

“We can’t see each other again, it’s the only way to keep you safe, love.” Draco told you as he held your hands in his. His stomach lurched, chest tightening with guilt for what he was doing, but he knew if he didn’t push you away, you might be pulled into the side of the war he was trying so hard to keep you away from. “Please, just come with me Draco.” You plead, tears rolling down your cheeks as you urged him to stay with you. “Please?” “You know I can’t, sweetheart.” He shook his head, trying his best not to cry, because he knew if he let his tears out, he would give in and go with you and then you really could be in danger.

“Promise you’ll find me when this is over.” You whispered, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his and he struggled to hold your gaze, seeing the hurt you held in your eyes. “I promise, love.” Draco reassured you. Before he could turn away to leave, you threw yourself into his arms, your head resting against him as you cried, your fingers slipping something into his jacket pocket. “Goodbye sweetheart.” Were the last words he spoke to you, holding you tightly before he let go, his eyes catching yours before he turned away, his heart sinking ever deeper as he left you behind.

And it was later when he pulled out the photo of the two of you together, laughing and standing close together, that Draco realised you had probably known that moment would come, else you wouldn’t have had the photo prepared to give to him with the note scrawled onto the back.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Draco internally scolded himself for having not kept his promise. The war had ended a year ago and he had yet to come and find you. And what made it all the more difficult was that he knew exactly where you were.

Would you run into his arms when you saw him? Would you reject him? Tell him you didn’t want to be around him? Truth be told, Draco had tried to uphold his promise as soon as the war had ended, but when he found you, exactly where you had told him you would be when all of this was over, Draco couldn’t quite bring himself to step back into your life.

What if you were happy without him? Granted, all you had ever been was friends, but Draco certainly couldn’t deny that maybe there was something else there too and he knew he’d never really know until he came back to you.

Sighing, Draco placed the little photo down on his nightstand and propped it up against a candle holder as his thoughts of you lingered in his mind.

Closing up shop for the day, you stepped out of the front door of your store giving Fred and George a little wave as they saw off the last of their customers. You counted yourself lucky to be able to even open your shop in Diagon Alley and even luckier to be receiving good custom and be opposite two friendly faces.

Having a rummage in your bag, you pulled out the keys, locked up your shop and took a few steps along the side of the building until you reached the entrance to the staircase that led up to your apartment above the shop. Walking up the steps, you turned and let yourself into the apartment. It wasn’t long before you had gotten yourself settled and comfortable with a warm drink and a good hearty fire started in your little wood burner.

You were lost in your evening routine when a knock at the door caught your attention and you frowned, setting your mug down on the coffee table as you got up. You hadn’t been expecting company, but you assumed that perhaps one of the Weasley twins needed something, the three of you often dropping by to borrow something or for a quick chat and a cup of tea.

But when you pulled the front door open to see your ashen haired boy, Draco Malfoy on your doorstep, you thought for a moment that you might be dreaming, because in truth, you had dreamed of this happening, of him arriving one day out of the blue and you almost didn’t believe it was real.

“Draco?” You whispered his name and he looked sheepishly at you, afraid of your reaction. You looked him over, a little stunned for a moment as he stood in your doorway. With his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, a wool jumper thrown over his button up shirt and a long black woollen coat over the top, he looked a bit more casual than when you had last seen him with slightly messy hair from the wind out in the street, cheeks a little flushed and you had to admit, it definitely suited him well.

“Hi love, is it okay that I’m here? I can go if-.” “Please don’t leave.” It came out barely above a whisper, your voice failing you as you stood under his gaze. It was a feeling you hadn’t realised you had missed, the way you felt under his eyes and despite his often brash, harsh demeanor, there was something so tender and gentle about him.

Swallowing harshly, you finally mustered up the courage to step aside and let him in, Draco slowly taking a step over the threshold and for the first time in over a year, you stood close to him again. You could feel his warmth, the edge of his coat brushing gently against you as he looked you over, soft blue eyes taking you in and he seemed to relax slightly in your presence.

There was a lingering silence and while his company was welcome and warm, the weight of all of the unspoken things you had longed to tell him almost had you bursting at the seams. You had no idea where to start, what to even say first and for a moment, Draco watched you as thoughts and emotions came to you, your eyes glistening as the swell of tears rose, your lower lip wobbling slightly as you struggled to find the words to say to him.

“Sweetheart,” He paused, about to tell you he wouldn’t stay long if his visit was causing you hurt, but before he could continue, hot, heavy tears escaped you, rolling down your cheeks and he didn’t spare a moment before tugging you into his embrace, bringing you the comfort he knew you had been reaching for, but hadn’t had the courage to take.

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Draco’s voice was softer than you remembered, the years of pain and stress he had endured, forced to play as Voldemort’s pawn and the pressure from his family had obviously played into the boy you remembered at school, though with you he had always been gentler and kinder and while back then it had seemed uncharacteristic, now it felt natural to see him that way, Draco slowly allowing himself to be comfortable with his true nature.

“I knew you’d find me.” You sobbed against his coat, Draco’s tears falling as he almost curled over you, holding you so close, so tightly, afraid to let go of you. “I promised I would, love.” He reminded you, speaking softly against your hair as his hand gently soothed up your back to cradle your head against him. You breathed in deeply, tears slowing as his scent filled your senses, calming you a little, the gentle beat of his heart lulling you into a state of calm.

“I missed you so much.” His voice shook as he spoke, finally being able to let out everything he had held in for months of being away from you. As you whispered the words back to him, you clung to Draco, afraid to let go of him as he stood in the middle of your living room and that strange, hazy feeling of disbelief washed over you, making you feel like you might be dreaming, but every time Draco tightened his embrace or moved a little bit, it reminded you that it was very much real.

You stayed that way for a while, neither of you making moves to let go and by the time you finally parted from him, just enough to look up at the Slytherin, you had no idea how long you had been there for, holding each other, but you knew from a quick glance at the window that it had been a while as now it was dark and rain began to patter gently against the old, single paned wobbly glass windows.

Reaching up, your touch tentative as you slowly soothed your fingers over his cheek, Draco’s eyes softening as he allowed you, almost leaning into you as you took a moment to really take him in. He looked tired, but there was a vibrancy in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in a long time and if you were to ask him, you were sure he’d tell you what he used to say when you were both at Hogwarts. “It’s because you’re here.” He’d say in a teasing manner. But maybe it really was the reason.

His jaw was lined with short, day old stubble, though it was still quite soft under your touch. Your fingers reached up, gently brushing at the hair above his ear, the pale whitened hair having grown out a little bit and to be honest, the softer, casual look suited him. Draco hummed quietly, almost involuntarily as his eyes closed at the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

And when he opened his eyes again, gazing down at you with a look in his eyes that brought back memories, times that felt so long ago, when they had only been a couple of years ago.

“Come here,” He laughed, reaching forwards and winding his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him before he gently took your hand in his. “May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing to you, his grin widening as you giggled in delight. “You may.” You replied, giving him a playful little curtsy before he lifted your arm so you could do a little twirl.

Draco looked at you with such a loving look in his eyes and your heart paced quickly in your chest, butterflies fluttering through you as you twirled for him. You turned to face him, your hands coming up to his chest to stop yourself in your movements, but you quickly pulled away. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off you, all night he had wanted to dance with you at the ball, all night he had wanted to see you twirl in your beautiful dress and watch the way you looked up at him with that lovely gleam in your eye. He just hoped no one noticed you were both missing from the hall, having snuck you off up to your secret little tower room so he could give you the dance he wished he had been able to give you down in the hall.

The way he looked at you, the way he tugged you close and held you as if you were something truly precious made you think that Draco might kiss you, and it was at that moment that you began to realise that you were falling in love with your best friend.

Draco wished things had remained that way.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He broke the silence, the way he almost sobbed the words out broke your heart. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left you, I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Draco teared up, the lump in his throat tightening as he reached up to brush his fingers against the back of your hand that rested on his cheek, gently holding it in both of his hands.

“It’s alright, it’s over and you’re here now, that’s all that matters Draco.” You whispered softly to him, letting him hold your hands in his and the Slytherin smiled softly at you, his shoulders relaxing a little as he took your words in. You wanted to reach up, lean into him and kiss him. You wanted to kiss Draco and show him how much he meant to you, how much you had missed him, how much you loved him, but you were scared. He’d only just come back, what if all he was looking for was his best friend and nothing more? What if he’d already moved on in the year after the war?

And while you were too shy to do it, too shy to finally admit how you felt after all of those years, Draco noticed. He noticed you deep in thought, love swirling deep in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, the way his smile seemed to make you act all flustered and how his touch, intimate and gentle was making you lean into him.

And just like that evening of the Yule Ball, Draco pulled you close. He pulled you against his chest, your hands coming up to rest against him and before your shyness could take over and have you pull away, Draco leaned in, his lips brushing gently against yours, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to your surprised, little gasp, though you made no moves to stop him, only leaning closer into him.

Draco kissed you, his lips soft against yours as he embraced you gently, his hands resting at your lower back. Your kiss was timid at first, but as you relaxed into him, the reality of what was happening sinking in, you slowly deepened the kiss. He hummed when he felt your touch trail over his shoulders and comb through his hair until your hands met at the back of his neck, pulling yourself flush against his chest.

It was warm, Draco was warm and your stomach fluttered with butterflies, accompanied with something you could only describe as a gentle warmth that blossomed in your heart. Draco felt himself relax further, kissing you with a passionate intensity, but still so gentle and tender. Draco knew now as he kissed you, that you always had been the love of his life. He’d never find another person that knew and loved him as deeply as you did.

As you parted, Draco resting his forehead against yours, he relished in the feeling of warmth and love he shared with you. The soft crackle of the little wood burner was the only sound between the two of you, aside from your soft breaths and the sound of Draco slowly sliding his coat off his shoulders, draping it carefully over your armchair. You opened your eyes to meet his, the soft, warm glow of the fire was the only thing lighting the room as the evening drew in, but all of your focus was on Draco and all of his on you.

“Can we stay like this? Just me and you?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace the two of you had created. “I’d love nothing more.” Draco replied, embracing you against him as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours.

You leaned into him, whimpering softly as Draco pressed you up against the wall, his hands wandering as he kissed you breathless. “Make me yours, Draco.” You whispered against his lips, Draco’s grip on your waist tightened at your words.

His kisses trailed down from your lips, fluttering over your neck and you gasped softly as he gently worked you up. Pulling you into his arms, Draco picked you up, laying you down on the sofa before slowly teasing you, his hands tugging at your top. He was gentle, just as gentle as you imagined as he undressed you, pulling your shirt away and carefully removing your bra, Draco looking down at you in awe as he took you in. You looked beautiful beneath him, exposed with that sweet, flustered look on your features, eyes full of adoration as you looked up at the man above you as he undressed himself.

It was hazy and warm and so loving as he took you, his gentle movements bringing you so much pleasure. His hot breath against your tender skin elicited a soft moan from you, fingers working you in soft motions as he played with you. The way he looked up at you as he pleasured you, drawing circles around your sensitive bud, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle passion melted you, your eyes rolling back as he pulled moans and soft gasps from you over and over again, his name falling from your lips as he worked you.

Sliding his hardened length into you, Draco grunted softly, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled out and thrust back into you, pulling a sweet, airy moan from you. Draco watched you through half lidded eyes, the way you arched into him as he made love to you, your eyes meeting his with nothing but love and passion for him. His touch trailed over your body, thumb circling over your sensitive bud as he watched you. Your moans were almost hypnotic, the way you whined out his name in pleasure as he hit the spot that made you gasp.

“I’ve got you, darling, let go.” He encouraged, and you did, your release rolling through you in a warm and loving intensity. Draco thrust into you, making love to you until his high came too, the soft grunts and moans, paired with the soft muttering of your name on his lips pulled a little whimper from you.

“I’ll take care of you, love.” He whispered, noticing the sleepy look on your features. And Draco gently cleaned you both up, his kisses soft and his eyes casting a gentle gaze over you.

“I love you.” It came out as a soft whisper from his lips, warm and sweet with an air of sincerity to his words as he gently stroked your hair away from your face. “Draco,” You paused with a sweet smile on your lips as you relaxed into his touch. “I’ve always loved you.” You told him, pulling him close. “I know, sweetheart.” He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Draco had always known.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace as Draco pulled you onto him so that your head was resting on his chest, your arm thrown over his middle as he drew in a breath, a smile forming on his lips. “Of course I will, darling. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He reassured you. “I promise.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7​​ @paintballkid711​ @thesewaywardskies​ @coldlilheart​ @victorialynn​ @pandaxnienke​ @megantje123​ @loving-life-my-way​ @chaotic-fae-queen​

[kinkmaster3000]

Excuse me, do you still take requests? Because I wanted to ask for a burping story regarding Golden Time's female protagonist, Kouko Kaga. Specifically about her feeling rather gassy after eating at a buffet with her boyfriend. If possible, I don't know if you could sneak a fart or two in there?

Sorry, I don't do any eprocto stuff. Everything else I can happily do, though. Also, I'm really glad to get an ask for this anime, it's def one of my favs, but it's also been a really long time since I watched it through so sorry if anything seems ooc 🙏

“Wow, you really were hungry, weren’t you?”

K.ouko stopped short, the noodles still ungracefully hanging from her mouth. She quickly swallowed them, trying to regain her composure. “I-it’s just because I haven’t eaten all day…”

“Ah, I didn’t mean anything by it, K.ouko. I’m glad you’re eating a lot now, it’s not good for you to skip meals.”

“I-I’m not really eating a lot, am I?” She looked at the table, realizing that she was on her third plate. “Oh…”

“Don’t sweat it, K.ouko!” He grabbed a forkful of his own pasta, shoving it into his mouth. “See? Now I’m eating a lot, too!”

“You’re talking with your mouth full, B.anri,” She giggled.

Embarrassed, he quickly swallowed. “O-oh, sorry…”

By the time they’d left the buffet, K.ouko felt beyond stuffed. The walk back to B.anri’s apartment was agonizing, and every other step brought a little bit of food into the back of her throat.

“Was everything good, K.ouko?”

She didn’t want to be rude after B.anri had treated her to a nice meal, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, the air (or worse, the food she had eaten) would come back up. So she simply nodded, not meeting his eyes. She could see him frowning in her peripheral vision and her heart dropped. ‘Now he’s going to think I’m ungrateful, isn’t he?’

“Ah, looks like we’re here, K.ouko. Be careful on the steps!”

She took them slowly, but it was still a great effort. She felt unbearably heavy and drowsy, and by the time they reached his door, she thought she might heave. She had intially been excited when B.anri had asked her to come over, but now, all she wanted to do was curl up in bed. She looked to B.anri to see if he was struggling in the same way, but he seemed alright, and was staring at her with clear concern on his face. “Are you cold? Let’s get you inside, okay?”

She nodded, following him in to his cozy yet somewhat minimalistic apartment. She felt a bit better in its warmth, but she was still heavily feeling the effects of her binge. She chided herself harshly, ‘Why did I have to do this in front of B.anri… this is something that a cute girlfriend definitely wouldn’t do…’

“K.ouko, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet, I’m starting to worry, a bit…”

K.ouko wanted to respond, to tell him that she was just fine, but suddenly felt a pocket of air rise up from the pit of her stomach. It was right at the top of her chest, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe around it. She stood up quickly, about to excuse herself to the restroom, but the upward motion brought everything up faster than she could stop it, and she let out a surprisingly loud burp.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, mortified. Some of the physical tension had been released, but the mental tension had increased tenfold. ‘Why did this have to happen now of all times… just when we finally have some alone time, too. He’s going to think I’m such a pig…’

She slowly looked over to him, hands still covering her flushed face, to gauge his reaction. To her surprise, he didn’t seem offended or grossed out at all. He simply smiled, and pushed out a longer, deeper belch of his own.

She let out a startled gasp. “B-B.anri! Mine was an accident, you did that on purpose!”

“Don’t be so embarrassed, it’s totally natural. I’m just glad you did it first, I’ve been holding that in this whole time!”

K.ouko sighed. “Geez… and here I was, worried about what you would think of me this whole time.”

“I thought I was the one who was worried about you… You’ve been so quiet, I thought that maybe I’d done something to make you upset or uncomfortable. I’m really glad you’re not angry with me, K.ouko.”

K.ouko blushed at his honesty. “Of course not, B.anri. I’d tell you if I was upset, I just… ate way too much.”

B.anri’s eyes moved to K.ouko’s stomach, visibly distended even through her shirt, and she quickly turned it away from view. “Please don’t stare at it!”

B.anri blushed, turning his head away. “Ah, sorry… Does it hurt?”

“...Yeah. It hurts a lot, actually. I really overdid it, I swear I don’t eat this much, usually. I was just really, really hungry.”

B.anri scooted backwards on the bed, with his back pressed against the wall, and patted his lap. “Come sit… I-if you want, that is…” He said shyly.

K.ouko hesitantly eased herself onto his lap, holding her bloated stomach protectively. He reached under her shirt and she gasped slightly as she felt his icy fingers touch her bare stomach. “Ah, sorry, it was really cold outside. Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, that’s okay… you can keep going.”

B.anri hummed, and began kneading her flesh slightly. “Let me know if I’m making it worse, okay?”

She nodded, and let more of her weight fall into him. Being held in his arms was very comforting, and the soft, kneading motions were loosening up the tightness in her stomach.

He pressed underneath her stomach with his knuckles, and she gasped sharply as a cramp shot through her abdomen.

B.anri started to apologize, but his words were drowned out by the long, growling belch that left K.ouko’s mouth. She instantly felt everything in her stomach shift into a more comfortable position. It would have been very satisfying, were she not currently cuddling with her boyfriend.

“E-excuse me!”

“It’s ok! That’s what I wanted you to do, K.ouko! I bet you feel better now, don’t you?”

“A little bit, but you can’t just decide to do that on your own! I’m your girlfriend, I don’t want you to think I’m gross! And please don’t be so rough! Or put your hands so low…”

“Ah, sorry, K.ouko, I didn’t mean it like that, and I would never think that you’re gross... I just thought that it would help to release some pressure.”

“Well, I guess it did.” K.ouko sighed in slight frustration. Scolding him had been a natural response, but one that she regretted. It really had helped, very much so, but she could still feel more air swirling around in her stomach uncomfortably. She tensed up her chest, hoping to let it all go at once and be done with this embarrassing situation. It only shifted the dense mass of food in a dangerous way, and she sighed in defeat. “Maybe we could… do that again?”

B.anri grunted affirmatively, and resumed rubbing with gusto. He seemed enthusiastic to be taking care of her, and K.ouko had to admit that she was smitten with this side of him. He was rough, but not too rough, and seemed to be hitting all of the right spots. He dislodged another pocket of air, and she let out a low, airy belch. “Mm. That feels a bit better…”

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable. As she moved, a deep, rumbling belch sounded, one that was actually not her own.

“B.anri! That was right in my ear!”

He chuckled, and she could feel it reverberating in his chest. “Sorry, K.ouko. It got pushed out when you shifted. I ate a lot of food, too.”

Before she could respond, he pressed her stomach harshly, and a sharp belch ripped from her throat. “*uURP!* Hey...”

“You’re not allowed to be mad!” He teased, “We’re both pigs today, okay?”

A soft, airy belch popped out of her effortlessly, and she sighed, giggling slightly. “Okay, B.anri.”

Encouraged by her acceptance, he started to press even harder, until she jolted with a sharp hiccup. “Ah, sorry, K.ouko!”

K.ouko sat up slightly as a wave of hiccups took her. She started burping after each one, getting larger each time as the hiccups got more violent, bringing more air up with them.

“I’m really sorry, K.ouko! You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

K.ouko simply shook her head. The burping felt good, but the hiccups were getting increasingly painful, so she tried holding her breath. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t hold back a particularly violent hiccup. She felt a large shift in her stomach, as if a switch had been flipped, and let out a massive, deep belch. She blinked in surprise. She had never belched like that in her entire life. She could barely believe that it had come from her own mouth, but the way that her stomach suddenly felt half as full reminded her that it, in fact, had.

“Excuse me…” She said, holding a fist to her lips. She was a bit dazed with relief, but the mortification was quickly taking hold of her.

B.anri burst out into laughter behind her, “Looks like you startled your own hiccups away!”

“Hey!” She stood up, pointing at him accusingly, “Don’t laugh at me! This is your fault, you kn- hic!” Her hiccups suddenly returned full force, and she groaned in frustration. “Ugh- *hic*, B.anriii…”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry, K.ouko.” He yawned, going horizontal on the bed. “Why don’t you come lay down with me? It might help if I rub your back.”

“... I think you’re just trying to come up with excuses to put your hands on me.”

“W-what?” It was now B.anri’s turn to be embarrassed. “You know I’m not that kind of guy, K.ouko! I just want you to feel better.”

“I know,” She laughed, settling down next to him, “I’m just teasing you.”

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1   ||   chapter 3   ||   chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; ) 

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days. 

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared. 

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it. 

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made. 

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

 [unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

 You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply. 

 [you]: is this hawks?

 The next reply came only seconds later.

 [unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

  He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in. 

 [unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

 You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts. 

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

 [you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

 You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

 [tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

 Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

 You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

 [you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’ 

[you]: ;)

 [tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

 [you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

 [tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u 

You felt your still and heat rush to your face. 

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

 [tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

 “What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections. 

 [you]: u flatter me

 [tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

 You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift. 

 [you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

 Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him. 

 [tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!! 

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel 

 As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest. 

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

 |||||||||||||||||||

 The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door. 

 Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut. 

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

 When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

 (Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

 The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more. 

 You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide. 

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice. 

Your mouth quirked up in surprise. 

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound. 

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying. 

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting. 

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up. 

(You didn’t think that was possible.)  

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him. 

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking. 

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back. 

 Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

 “So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

 Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons. 

(You didn’t.) 

 You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality. 

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat. 

  Keep it in your pants. 

 While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage. 

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body. 

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him. 

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass. 

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip,  devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact. 

  He gets stared at all the time, chill out. 

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

 “The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk,  ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

 Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them. 

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste. 

 You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks. 

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele. 

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

 Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him. 

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away.  With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths. 

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be. 

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically. 

 You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you. 

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact. 

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard. 

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut. 

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head. 

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing. 

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type. 

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

 Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.  

[cellophanejpeg]

crimson red paint

Pairing: Max Phillips x female!reader

a/n: i know we’re all on board of the Din Djarin train but this is..... something lol. also happy halloween everybody, i managed to finish this earlier than i thought i would, and i’m so happy!!!! i hope you like it!!!

warnings: tw blood, smut +18, this has almost zero plot, soft ooc Max, but also dark and rough Max 😈 mentions of sexual harassment. maybe some unrealistic smut, but hey, I know you don't care! also I wasn't planning on that ending, but…. you’re welcome

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

“Does it hurt?” You ask him one night when you’re nestled against him on the couch. A corny horror movie is playing on TV, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention to it.

“Just the first puncture.” Max’s voice makes his chest vibrate against you. “Like when I first fed from you, remember?”

It’s been almost two weeks since you told Max you wanted him to turn you. You’ve thought about it for a long time, months even, and you decided you wanted to be with him forever. At first, you weren’t sure if he was going to go with the idea, given that you’d never shown interest in becoming a vampire. But you’ve been with him for years and you have no plans of leaving him that soon and asking him to turn you into a vampire was a huge step, not only in your relationship but also in your life.

So he asked, about a million times, if that was what you really wanted. That would mean abandoning your old life, leaving friends and family behind, to live eternally by his side. Honestly, you’re not against it. You and Max might as well be married by now, knowing and living with each other for so long. It just made sense.

Max told you he wanted to make it special, surprise you with it. You know he wanted to give you some time to appreciate your last days as a human being. He was thoughtful that way.

When you first met him, though, you were sure you hated him with all your guts. He was very charming, you’d give him that, but the way his ego was the size of a hot air balloon turned you off completely. Max had tried to go out with you for the longest time, making your life at the office very difficult, always flirting and calling you pet names, but never going beyond that. It wasn’t until he fired a particular guy who had been harassing you for the longest time, that you took an interest in him. Max defended you, staying by your side and believing your allegations against that particular man. Then, you started to think Max Phillips wasn’t that bad after all.

You decided to give him a chance after that and, despite your expectations being very low, he actually exceeded them over the top. He even paid for dinner and didn't harass you the entire night. Who knew he could be such a gentleman?

Well, almost seven years later, here you are, your legs on his lap as you both chill on the couch of your shared apartment.

“Are you gonna miss me as a human?” Your voice is shy and quiet, full of uncertainty and doubt.

Max tears his gaze away from the television and looks at you, his brows furrowing for a moment before he softens his look.

“Well, yeah,” he replies, honestly.

Not expecting that answer, your jaw drops and you kick him in the ribs, knowing he won’t feel a thing. Max laughs and grabs your calf before you can kick him again, turning his body to face you.

“I mean…” He starts, pulling your legs towards him. You easily slide down on the couch, your back now flat in the cushions. “Will I miss feeling your warm, soft body under mine when I fuck you?” He cages you slowly, setting himself between your legs and pressing his body against yours. “Yes. Will I miss your scent when you get wet?” He grabs your outer thigh abruptly and you gasp in surprise. “Absolutely. Will I miss the taste of your blood?” Max gently presses his lips on the column of your neck and you close your eyes, groaning with the sensation. “You bet your cute little ass I will.”

“Max…” You whisper his name when he lets out a low growl, intertwining your fingers on his hair.

You can feel his fangs scraping against the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He knows your heart is beating like crazy inside your chest as he buries his face on your neck. With the touch of his sharp fangs on the skin of your neck, you embrace yourself for the familiar light pain, wondering if it’ll hurt more when he turns you into a vampire. Usually, Max bites you when things are hot and heavy in bed, and most times you don’t feel a thing, just a puncture followed by the pleasant feeling of him licking the wound. But now… Now you’re kinda scared it’ll hurt. And you like it.

Max hums and smiles against your skin, kissing his way up to your lips. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Shut u–” You gasp when he slips his hand between your legs, caressing you over your pajama pants. He approaches his lips to your ear and you shudder in pleasure, tightening your grip in his hair.

“But will I absolutely love to see you as a vampire?” He continues as you mewl under his touch. “To see your eyes turn red when you’re hungry for blood? To feel your body on mine, and to not have to hold back? To be with you forever?”

“I–” You try to speak, but your words are cut short when Max tugs the waistband of your pajama down and dips his fingers between your folds.

“Babe, I’ve been waiting years for you to ask me to turn you.”

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, watching as your breath hitches. His thumb meets the bundle of nerves and starts circling it, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bring his lips to yours in a passionate kiss and you moan on his mouth when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot you love so much.

"Oh, baby," you whimper, already close to your climax. "Max, fuck–

"Use your words, babygirl." He demands, a dominant one in his voice.

"I-I–" You try to speak.

"You want to cum, right?" He smiles when you nod, biting your lip.

Max presses his lips against yours again and then starts a trail of wet kisses until he reaches your pulse point. You shudder in anticipation, your breath heavy as the sensations overwhelm you. Once more, his fangs tease your skin and you feel the minimal prickle of them followed by his warm tongue massaging the spot. And then your legs shake and you're moaning his name over and over as you let it all out, coating his fingers with your fluids. 

He doesn't stop until you're pushing his hand away from you, squirming with overstimulation. Then, he waits for your breath to be even, his body still caging yours, your fingers still tangled on his hair. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the sensation of his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit.

“So, you’re not gonna leave me for a warm soft human, once I’m a vampire then?” You say once you’ve calmed down. Max snaps his eyes up to look at you. You’re smiling but he knows you mean it deep down.

“Knowing you could kick my ass? Never.” He teases. “And I don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you gonna get tired of me?” All of sudden, your tone sadder this time. “I mean I’m gonna be immortal, right? Just like you…”

Max smirks at you and rests his chin on the valley of your breasts. “Aren’t you gonna get tired of me? It’s the whole eternity, baby.”

“No,” you answer without a beat, frowning. “I mean, you are a dick most of the time, but I love you. I’d never–”

You interrupt yourself when the penny drops and Max just raises his brows. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and look away, pressing your lips together.

“Babe." He adjusts himself so he can approach his face to yours. "I don't care if you're a human, a vampire, or a fucking elf…"

"Do elves exist?" You ask, widening your eyes.

"It doesn't matter." Max shrugs your question away. "The point is. Whatever you are, however you wish to live, I'll never get tired of you." He gives you a peck on the lips. "Wanna know why?"

The smile that comes to you is impossible to suppress as you kiss him once more, mumbling on his lips. "Why?"

"’Cause you have a nice ass." He whispers slowly.

"I am going to beat the fuck out of you." You don't flinch as you speak on his lips; Max chuckles and reaches to cup your jaw, deepening the kiss.

"Oh, and also I love you," he says when he pulls away from you.

The laugh that comes out of your lips is soft as you shake your head, biting your lower lip.

"Who knew that, to keep Max Phillips on a leash, all you had to do is have a nice ass."

Max laughs and gets off of you, grabbing your hand and pulling out of the couch.

"Come on." He starts pulling you to the bedroom. "I have to finish what I started."

…

Max is up to something.

You know it because he'd never paid for a hotel room for the two of you to spend the night after a date night. And he just texted you, telling you to wear that red dress he loves so much because he was going to take you to dinner and then to a hotel room.

Deep down, you know what's going to happen, but you decide to shove this thought away.

He'll pick you up at seven, just after work, which is in an hour and a half, but you can't help but start getting ready already. You feel your stomach twist with the sudden change in Max's behavior, but try to take a couple of breaths to calm yourself. You're sure it's nothing. Maybe he got promoted and wants to celebrate.

Yeah, that's what it is. A promotion.

The dress is one of the many he bought you, but it's his favorite. Low cut, silk material, hugs your curves and it's tight in all perfect places. Red. His favorite color, naturally. You put on some makeup and try to do your hair, but your hands shake slightly in anticipation.

Eventually, you're done with a few minutes to spare. You try to get distracted, putting a video on your phone to pass the time, but the jitters in your stomach are always there. When Max texts you, saying he's waiting for you, you take the apartment's key, turn off the lights and take a deep breath before leaving.

"You look gorgeous, babe." He greets you with a kiss on the cheek when you enter the car.

"You like it?" You smile, smoothing the dress when it raises, exposing your thigh. You know he likes it when that happens, but you feel nervous and you have to do something with your hands or he'll know.

"I love it. You know it."

You give him a smirk as he starts to drive to the restaurant with a hand on your thigh. His thumb traces circles on your bare skin and, occasionally, his fingers slip to your inner thigh as he scratches lightly on your sensitive skin. He knows what he's doing, he can smell your pheromones when you get aroused, which is why he's trying to turn you on right now.

Max is a little shit and he knows it.

"You okay?" He asks nonchalantly, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the traffic.

"Y-yeah." You stutter, swallowing hard. He doesn't say anything else, but you see the smug smirk on his face.

After you arrive at the restaurant and take your seats, you finally ask him what's in your mind.

"What's the occasion?" Your eyes are on the menu, but your heart is in your throat.

"We're celebrating," he replies, setting the menu down and looking into your eyes.

So, it is a promotion. See, nothing to worry about…

"You got promoted, then?" You look at him surprised, ready to congratulate him. But he frowns his lips downwards and shakes his head.

"Nope." Max shrugs and looks at the menu again.

A quiet pause hangs between you two and you feel your heart speed up, the twist in your stomach coming back stronger than before. You see a half smile on his face and you fucking know he listening to your body's reaction.

"W-well." Your voice trembles. "Then, what are we celebrating?"

"You'll see."

Just like that, you’re all nervous again. Not even the food calms you down once it arrives, having lost your appetite despite Max telling you to eat. Regardless, dinner lasts forever and Max even orders a dessert, making it last even longer. But he still doesn’t tell you the reason for all this until dinner is over and you’re both at the hotel room’s door. You feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest as he takes the card and inserts it in the keyhole.

“Baby, just breathe.” He pauses and looks at you for a moment. You look into his eyes, those inviting, warm eyes that always made you feel calm and safe, and take a deep breath, nodding.

When Max opens the door and lets you in, you see the biggest suite you’ve ever laid eyes on. The door leads to a room with dark wallpaper and black carpet. The bed is huge, with a golden duvet, the nightstands and desks covered in small candles, lighting the room dimly. You take some time to observe the room as you hear Max close the door and walk behind you.

"Max…" Your voice trembles. "What's the reason for all this?"

"I think you know, honey."

His voice suddenly gets dark and low, and you audibly swallow, your heart speeding up as you feel his lips on your neck. He gently nibbles on your skin, sending a wave of pleasure and adrenaline through your entire body; you shiver, letting out a shaky breath and closing your eyes.

“It looks like a ritual.” You joke, then pause. "I'm scared." You confess before you can stop yourself from telling the truth.

One rule of your relationship with Max is always to be honest with each other. Especially because he can sense things better than you. Whenever you got mad, or upset at him he'd always know and ask you to tell him the truth. You liked that about him. Even though it irritated you sometimes.

"I know," he mumbles into your skin and then gently takes your chin, making you look at him. His eyes are already glowing red when you look at them, but his gaze is soft at you. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," you answer with no hesitation.

Max then crashes his lips against yours in a rough, yet firm kiss. His hand cups the back of your neck, bringing you closer to him and you open your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. Pulling you towards the bed, Max hooks an arm on your lower back and sits on the mattress as you straddle him, lacing your hands behind his neck.

You grind your hips against him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your hips and guiding you on top of him. Max tugs at the thin straps of your dress, pulling it down to let it fall on your waist, revealing your breasts to him. He doesn't waste time and cups them roughly, kneading, and pulling at your nipples roughly. You breathe heavily on his mouth, gasping and whimpering, while you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie and pulling it off of him.

He runs his nails on your back, making you moan and throw your head back; his lips connect with your neck as you grind hard on him, your climax building up more each second. Your skin already glistens in the glow of the candles with sweat, your moan getting louder as Max teases your skin with his fangs.

“Max!” You whimper, your begging tone like music to his ears.

“Not yet.” He growls and easily switches positions, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you on your back.

He kneels on the bed, eyeing you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. Max takes his time as he shrugs off his shirt and reaches for his belt. Your hands tremble as you pull your dress over your head, and hook your thumbs on the elastic of your underwear.

“Don’t move.” Max orders as he undresses. A feeling bubbles in your stomach, anticipation making your shiver as you look at him fisting his cock in his hand. “Stay like this.”

The smell of sex and sweat reaches your nose and you wonder if it’s stronger for a vampire. You guess after tonight, you’ll know.

“You wore this for me?” He asks as he leans down, hooking a thumb on the elastic band of your lingerie. You give him an innocent look and nod, your lips curving into a sweet smile. For a moment, he smiles too, before he pulls your underwear to the side and dips his fingers into your folds, moaning when he finds you soaking yet. “Oh, baby…”

“Max…” You close your eyes, whining his name.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

Max then adjusts himself on top of you and enters you, giving you no time to get used to the length of him. Through the seven years of your relationship, you had sex with Max countless times, in any way you could possibly imagine. But not like this.

Not like tonight.

Tonight he's rough. Feral. And it's not like he's never been rough with you. Tonight it’s different for some reason. He’s different. Or maybe you’re different. You don’t know. It’s hard to think when he’s pounding hard into you, his hips slapping against yours, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

It’s like he was holding back all these years and is finally letting go. You feel his cock stretching you and hitting hard against your cervix that you worry for a second if you’re going to bleed. But you bet he’d like that.

“Fuck– Baby–” Max groans in your ear. “I– Shit, you feel so good–”

You moan loudly when he cups one of your breasts hard, pinching your nipple. The climax is almost there, you can feel it as you tangle your fingers on his hair and pull hard. Max groans and moans and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Sorry, baby, but I– fuck, I lied.”

His words seem to pull you out of your pleasure haze and you pull your brows together, looking at him with confused eyes.

“What–” You try to speak, but when you feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, you gasp.

“This is going to hurt.”

You barely register his words before you feel him closing his mouth on your neck and biting into your skin. The pain doesn’t come right away, instead, you feel a pressure, and then, moments later, it feels like fire. It spreads from your neck through your entire body and you feel it everywhere. Max groans as he drinks your blood and you feel the vibrations from his voice as tears blurry your vision. At some point, you don’t know if you’re going to cum or pass out. Maybe both, because you finally feel yourself clamp around him, the waves of pleasure hitting you stronger than usual. You shake and whimper his name, nails digging on his back as you moan and gasp.

And then everything goes black.

…

Max pulls out of you at the moment you blackout. His lips are smeared with your blood, his eyes still glowing red. He drank enough of your blood to taste it like he never did before and he wondered why he didn’t turn you sooner.

Well, he knows why. The idea had to come from you, he couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to. Losing your humanity isn’t like choosing which place you were going to order dinner from.

He remembers what it felt like. Being an immortal creature, freshly turned, thirsty for blood, and craving violence. So, he promised himself he’d take care of you. He’d help you, teach you how to be a vampire. You’re his partner after all.

Max sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Leaning over, he presses his lips on your forehead and tucks you in, knowing that when you wake up, you’ll be a different creature. He climbs off the bed, reaching for his trousers on the floor; with another sigh, he shoves his hand on the pocket of them, pulling a black velvet little box from it. The diamond ring glistens in the candle lights and he smiles to himself, knowing for a fact you’ll love it.

Finally.

__

tags: @huliabitch @mistermiraclee @murdermewithbooks @gooddaykate @kingpascals @theocatkov @aerynwrites @haildoodles-writing @hiscyarika @bestintheparsec @opheliaelysia @buckysalefty @din-damn-djarin @the-wishmonger @forever-rogue

please, fill this form if you want to be tagged in any of my stuff!!

[houseofslash]

Hope your smut was so good! Would you write AFAB reader being railed by Thomas Hewitt??? I'd love to read that in your style 💦💦

sure thing, anon! forgive me if this is ooc, i haven’t seen any TCM films yet

🔞 afab reader with thomas hewitt 🔞

The heat made everything easier. Laundry dried faster, meat cured quicker. The Texan sun was good at that, helping get the essentials taken care of, while slowing your thoughts until they were slow as old molasses so that you didn’t have to think too hard about much of anything. 

Today was a real hot one, but luckily it was a sleepy Sunday afternoon and nobody was really moving that much. You were sprawled in just a T-shirt and underwear on the bed, Thomas dozing  next to you, mask-free for once. As you turned onto your side, tucking yourself against his chest, he made a low noise in his throat and lifted his arm to pull you closer.

You blinked as the new perspective of the far wall made you realize you’d forgotten a window that you could open. As much as you hated to disturb him, he was so rarely this relaxed, you still couldn’t resist the possibility of a breeze. “Hang on one sec, baby,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling away. He grumbled about it but let you go.

Moving around the room over to crank the window open, you smiled as your venture proved worth it. A relatively cool breeze wandered amiably into the room, making both you and Thomas sigh happily. Just like that, the room was that much better to lay around in. You smiled as you stretched, your body now only pleasantly warm. That warmth deepened as you turned back to the bed and watched Thomas push his heavy frame upright, that easy strength impressive even on idle display as he moved. 

You licked your lips as heat coiled like a satisfied cat in your core. Noticing your stare, Thomas’s dark brows pulled together slightly in confusion. Christ, it was incredible he still didn’t quite realize how attractive you found him. Returning to the bed, you walked slowly, with a swaying saunter to your hips that you knew he liked. He watched you watch him, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. Instead of getting back onto your side of the bed, you opted instead to sling one leg over his, settling in his lap. He watched you with gentle amusement now, his hands coming up automatically to your hips to steady you. 

You leaned up to kiss him, sighing into his mouth as you wound his arms around his neck. He grunted, returning the kiss easily, as eager for your touch as ever. Within a minute, his hands were roaming, which made you proud; it’d taken forever for him to get comfortable doing so without asking permission. You loved it when he took the initiative. As he groped at your ass, rubbing almost shyly at your cunt through your panties. He made another low noise and you nearly grinned as you realized he could feel how wet you were already. “Can you feel how bad I want you, Tommy?” you breathed into his mouth, making him groan. He pulled his hand away, making you pout. 

“Tommy…” you sighed, letting your lower lip push out just a bit. His eyes caught on it, but he glanced around the room, and then down, towards downstairs. His meaning was clear. You kissed him again; you’d long since stopped caring what anyone but Tommy and Luda Made thought of you. “C’mon, Tommy, we can be quiet,” you murmured between kisses, moving over his jaw to his ear, tugging at the lobe lightly with your teeth as you rocked down against him, grinding against his already pronounced bulge. “Want you to fuck me, Tommy,” you whined softly. 

He grunted, shuddering, and then his hands on your hips were holding you down, grinding you harder against his cock. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that-- Tommy--” Just a little better an angle and then you could dry-hump your clit against him--

There was a flash of movement, and then you were flat on your back, Thomas kneeling upright between your parted legs. Your heart was already racing as he shrugged out of his shirt and pants, still staring at you, eyes dragging over your skin. You shimmied your panties down and off, exposing your wet cunt to him. “C’mere, baby,” you breathed, slipping two fingers inside yourself. 

Thomas made a noise you could only describe as feral, and then he was on top of you again, and you were sinking into the bed under his weight as he lined up his cock with your hole and pushed inside. He knew you liked feeling the stretching burn a bit, liked seeing stars at the corners of your vision as you were for a moment certain certain this time would break you. Your eyes rolled back in your head a little bit as your hands scrabbled for purchase on his shoulder blades. As he seated himself inside you, you couldn’t help it, a high-pitched whine tried to burst from your chest. Heat singed down your spine as he clapped a hand over your mouth, giving you a dark look. You started this, you finish it. 

You clung a little tighter to him, indicating your approval, and then he began to fuck you.

It was somehow that much hotter fucking like this, when all you could hear was Thomas’s panting and the deliciously wet punishing slap of his hips against your ass and cunt. You locked your ankles in the small of his back and let him take you, enjoying the ride. 

After a minute or two of this, Thomas reared back upright, and you opened your eyes blearily, having been halfway to orgasm. He grunted as he pulled you close again, upright into his lap as he leaned back against the headboard. You were glad, immensely glad, that his hand was still over your mouth, silencing you, as the new angle allowed you to slide down onto his cock that much more, splitting you open and making your eyes water. Thomas pulled you close as he began bouncing you on his cock. Your eyes watered and you nearly wept from the overstimulation as your clit began grinding against his pelvic bone with every thrust. All you could do was hold on, panting through your nose as Thomas used and fucked you. The same wet slapping sounds of sex filled the room, but you were pretty sure this angle and his hand over your mouth negated much noise that could filter beyond the room. 

Eager to feel him cum and to orgasm yourself, you began clenching and rocking to meet his thrusts as much as you could. Thomas bit back a growling cry of his own, his hand abandoning your mouth to return to your hip, gripping you tightly enough to bruise as he worked you up and down his cock, panting through gritted teeth. Sensing you were both close, you collapsed against him, shuddering, and muffled yourself against his neck as you felt your orgasm surge. All it took was one particularly rough thrust into your abused cunt to send you nearly sobbing with pleasure as the wave crashed. You clenched, nearly crying out, as his pelvis ground into your clit and then he was gasping too. He pulled out of you, making you moan, and you panted as you looked down, bracing yourself on his shoulders to watch his cock spurt, twitching, all over your mound and belly. Yum.

He took the back of your head in his hand and pulled you closer with that grip, so you were sprawled over his belly. Neither of you cared about the mess as he kissed you idly, his other hand wrapping around you to hold you in place. As Thomas nuzzled his forehead against yours and sighed with contentment, you really couldn’t bring yourself to care whether anyone heard. This was all you needed. 

[biscuitfam]

Kiss Me

REQUEST:  hello you lovely human! may i request a twelfth doctor x reader in which she's upset about something and the doctor cuddles her even though he hates cuddles? with lots of soft words and kisses akfkskdjdj?? only if that's okay!! - @love-athxna​

Hope you enoy athena, you ray of sunsine!

Summary: Touches and kisses have always been traits of the Doctor, until now. Sometimes it’s hers to tell what he’s feeling — especially when it comes to your love for him. His girlfriend.

WC: 1.1k roughly

Warnings: Slight smut??? PG stuff, like heavy make out, but that’s pretty much it.

A/N: God I love writing request fics, like for real, it gives me a lot of inspo. Before I came a fanfic writer I had all these ideas for fics that I wanted to see, but was afraid to ask. I love doing this for others. I do try my hardest to keep the chracters from becoming too OOC though. Please if anyone has a request don’t feel shy, it makes me so happy to see my inbox with you guy’s ideas. PLEASE SEND IN YOUR IDEAS! I”D BE HAPPY TO WRITE THEM!

Also, I may start up my Supernatural blog soon! Check it out at @jackzpizza​

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

-

Sometimes, you wondered where the love had gone. You wondered why he stopped touching you, why the kisses drained away, and went into the abyss of nothingness. While the Doctor claimed he hadn’t changed and that this body is still adjusting, quite frankly it seemed like he wasn’t the same man after all.

He felt like a distant stranger.

Close and familiar, but also new and frightening. You never knew what would set him off, and today it was a hug. Today was a rough day as it was the morning you admitted you still had feelings for him, and it did not go as planned. He got rather upset. How could you not love him anymore? He’s the same man to you as he always has been. Just slightly different.

“ You’re just a child. You’re not thinking straight.”

However, telling The Doctor that your feelings are hurt wouldn’t be the best. Putting it lightly, this Doctor wasn’t the most empathetic or understanding of others feelings as his previous faces.

-

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

-

The tears rolled thickly down your cheeks as you stumbled away from the console room, down the winding corridors, and to the depths of the old girl trying to get as further away from him as possible. Lately, it wasn’t unlike of him to be upset. Or, in other words, irritated. His words were getting harsher. His tones were less love-filled and more defensive. In the distance, you heard his heavy footsteps following behind you. 

Possibly it was the old girl who essentially made him chase after you, of course, only after you slammed the door of the TARDIS in his face causing her to let out a huffed groan. She wanted the two of you to make up for the damages done to your relationship. Somewhere along the line of him regenerating now had caused a major dent of imperfection. The difficulty of the situation is pinpointing exactly when everything went up into flames. 

When had he fallen out of love with you?

-

Kiss me down by the broken treehouse

Swing me, upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

-

You cried yourself to sleep that night. Tear trails dried to your cheeks and lips crusted dry. Sometimes crying it out is the best solution to a problem, for one, it helps relieve stress. You glanced to the clock perched on your bedside table reading the time back at home. Four in the morning and you’re lying awake dreading facing your boyfriend. Was he still your boyfriend? At this point, you weren't sure if he was anything besides a traveling partner. Before he died and changed into the man you strived to show affection to he was never like this. He would feel beyond guilty. Terribly guilty, possibly to the point of self-loathing.

The first thing you noticed after waking up was the fact you were tucked snuggly into bed underneath the sheets, despite not falling asleep underneath them. Gently you pushed the sheets away and stepped onto the ice-cold floor with bare feet. You made your way to the door and went outside to the isolate halls. In the distance a soft tinkering sounded bringing a sweet comfort of the memories of before. Your fingers shaked lightly as your wrapped the thin, white cotton t-shirt tighter around your body. Nervous habits had always been a downfall of yours, like biting your nails or splitting the ends of your hair. However, never around him, until now. 

-

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

-

The closer you got to the main room of the TARDIS the lights began to dim, and little tea light candles scattered about the hall lit leading a trail. On the stairs and the upper landing portion flower petals of your favorite flower coated the floor. Your heart sped up at the sight and a bright pink blush passed your cheeks. This was extremely out of character for him. Romance tended to be more of his younger selves attitudes. You descended the stairs and stood before the man who scribbled away on the chalkboard seemingly ignoring your presence. He set the chalk down then turned to face you.

“ Humans, they’re so difficult. Needy, demanding, and so sentimental,” He began but stopped when he saw the look in your eyes, then let out a softened sigh as he gently picked up your hands drew you into his chest for a tight, warm hug. With much hestinancy you revipocated the hug and snuggled closer, breathing in the very familiar scent the doctor held despite changing. Cedar wood and rain. Chocolate and coffee. Old books and linen. He smelt of home. 

He dipped his head down to face you, bright blue eyes now locked onto yours. “ I know I haven’t been there like I should be. This me isn’t the most romantic man. I’ve become more practical, looking at the bigger picture. I did some research on romance in your century, your decade. I picked your favorite flowers and candles..” He looked around, waving a wrinkled hand at the surroundings while the other rested upon your hip.

“ I just wanted to show you that I do truly love you, and I promise I’ll try harder. Just know I’m bound to slip up at times and say things I don’t mean-” He was rambling at this point, talking more to avoid looking at you. Maybe some things don’t change after all. You cut him off with a firm kiss, fingers bolting up to frame his his cheeks and rounded jaw. At first you expected him to pull away. However, he drew you closer and kept you tight against him with the buttons of his coat digging into your stomach.

- 

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance

Silvermoon's sparkling

So kiss me

-

“ I love you, Y/N. I never stopped. I just..I just don’t know how to express it as well as before.” He admitted shamefully with eyes filled with guilt. He dipped his head back down once more for another heated kiss as his hands scrambled to slip off his coat. The tips began to sneak up beneath the hem of your shirt. A small smirk played at the corners of his salmon-colored lips, “ I do admit I had some help from Clara. Smart one, she is.”

“ Of course you did, now bring me to bed.” You laughed gently and took him by the hand leading him down the hall. The two of you went to your shared bedroom hand in hand for a night of love, and much-needed comfort. 

Maybe it was worth the wait and the pain inflicted upon your heart, but in the end he was your Doctor and always will be.

-

So kiss me

So kiss me

So kiss me

-

[maemi324]

Black Coffee

Hey there friends! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Today i come at you with a new piece for a new My Hero character! Well new to me writing him.  Here we have....Villain Deku! Inspired by this tiktok! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJUywn9t/ it just screamed Villain Deku to me. This is my first time writing him, so if he seems a little OOC, that’s probably it.  Here are some songs I listened to while writing this 1. headless waltz- Voltaire 2. Don’t go by the river- Voltaire 3.House of Myth, Such horrible things, Gorey Demise, Grave Robber, Greatest Show Unearthed, Aim for the head, Buried Alive- Creature Feature 4. Spooky Halloween Mashup, Syndicate: Underground- Cover by Peter Hollens. Warnings: Robbery, Guns, violence, let me know if theres more I need to tag please! Only edited by me, so I’ve probably missed some stuff! With that! Let’s get into it!

Dawning light streamed in through the windows, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, steam from the hot drink you made rising softly. Soft music flowed through the room, other employees taking the chairs off the tables and whipping them down. 

You sipped your drink, your eyes barely staying open as you leaned against the counter.  It was far too early to be awake. Pain flashed through your mouth as you reluctantly swallow, your tongue protesting not only being burned but the now cool air that touched it. 

It was too early for your own nonsense. 

As the sun rose in the sky customers began their daily migration to the bean and leaf juice they all craved. Thankfully it was still rather early, only a handful showing up, and even fewer deciding to take a seat and enjoy their purchases. 

“I can help whoever’s next?” you call out, closing the cash register and looking up to the new customer with a bright smile. 

Bright viridian eyes stared back into your (e/c) colored ones, ones that you hadn’t seen in a very long time, since middle school in fact, his green hair cementing just who he was. Recognition dawned in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” “Midoriya?” 

A surprised laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise, “I haven’t seen you in months- years even!” a short glare from your manager got you ready to enter in his order. Taking a peek behind him you saw that the line had lengthened considerably. “Y-yeah, it has been quite a while hasn’t it?” He stated his order, as you typed it in and gave him the total amount. He must have been pretty tired still as he stared into your eyes. You waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daze as his face flushed a deep red, frantically digging his hand into his pockets to fish out his wallet- where had the damn thing gone- oh it was in his hand already. 

Even after all these years, Midoriya was still just as much of a spaz as he’d always been. He moves to the drink pick up location, leaning against the counter as you made his drink. “I wish I had more time to talk, but with the line growing…” 

“Well What if I came back later today? Or tomorrow?”  You prepped the cup, adding a drizzle of caramel to the sides, offering him a kind smile

“Yeah, I’d like that,” 

You handed him his drink and sent him off with a wave. A disgruntled Karen decided to ring the service bell as you hadn’t jumped back to take her order. 

Why did it have to be a Karen?

Unfortunately you were unable to see him later on that day.

However, just as you turned the sign from closed to open that next morning, you were surprised to see those same bright eyes aimed at you. 

“Well, you’re here quite early” you teased, opening the door for him as you walked in. It would be a while yet before people came into the little shop. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking tired with circles under his eyes, “It’s been a long night,” He laughed off your look of concern, “Just work, nothing too terrible! I just thought I’d swing by earlier before I had to get back to it” 

Your coworkers paid no mind as the two of you walked to the counter as you made him and yourself a drink, taking a seat at one of the tables. No one was here and wouldn’t be here for a good half an hour. 

“So tell me, how have things been? Is your mom alright?” 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah she’s doing fine, still at the same place! She’s retired now actually” “Oh, good for her! I hope she’s enjoying it” you sipped at your coffee, thanking just about everything that you didn’t burn your tongue in front of him. 

“But what about you Midoriya? Last I checked you were wanting to become a hero?” While it would have been hard to be a quirkless hero, It wasn’t impossible. It probably wouldn’t get you ranked in the top five or even the top twenty, but so long as you were a good hero, what did rank matter? 

His eyes shifted from contentment to something a bit more sad, a deep sadness that surprised you. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a hesitant laugh served as a cover. “Well, I did try, but eventually I just gave up. It just hit me that no matter how much I worked, I’d just be in the way of the pros. I could do some things sure, but...it’s not...it wasn’t enough. So I took a step back and found myself getting into computers, fixing them up, making sure they’re running properly. It’s...It’s nice” 

You place a hand over his, an overwhelming urge to comfort him raced down your bloodstream. His hand jolts at the sudden touch, but he doesn’t bat your hand away. “I always believed you’d make an incredible hero” it made you feel guilty that you hadn’t been there for him when he clearly needed someone, anyone even just to listen to as his one and only dream crashed around him. 

“I know you did, I appreciate it (Y/N),” he offers you a more content smile, “But I’m happy where I am now, really! Plus if I was a hero, I might not have met up with you again” 

You let go of his hand, though not before he gives it a gentle squeeze, picking up your drink and taking another sip. 

“I’m glad to see you're happy though, you said you were fixing computers?”

“Yeah! It’s not a big thing really, just a little repair shop. Clients bring me their various electronics, I clean them and fix them up! It can be really challenging sometimes, especially when it’s an older model! I swear I’ve seen some that I could have sworn were from the early nineties!” 

You listened as he rattled on about his clients, his eyes lit up, a subtle blush on his cheeks as he talked with his hands. More than once you had to back away from getting a straw to the eye, but you hardly minded. 

It became a regular thing, He’d come to the shop at various hours of the day, typically right at opening, on your break, or right as the last customer shifted out the door. You always had his favorite drink ready for him, though you had to fight him to keep him from paying. You didn’t mind after all, paying for his drink. He somehow always managed to sneak in the exact amount into your pockets or purse before he left, leaving you to discover it when he was far and unable to take it back.

The ass.

The more you met up the more open he became, you both talked about work and your grievances there. Now you were talking about anything and everything, TV shows you’d recently watched, movies you were excited to see, stupid stories about Karen's getting owned was a personal favorite. 

However His favorite happened to be the news. He was still hero obsessed as he’d always been. However, there was a more...critical insight into it. 

“Ugh” he huffed out, turning his attention from the TV, though muted, the subtitles were still on. It was currently showcasing Endeavor, how he rescued some civilians from a collapsing apartment building, from a disgruntled worker who had turned to villainy when kicked out of their apartment. They decided to take revenge on the landlord, though it quickly turned to chaos as the entire complex crumbled.

“What is it?” You paused from chewing on the straw to take a sip, “ is it Endeavor?” You knew damn well it was, but it was better to let him process through his words. “Yes! Look at him, smug as can be. He doesn’t even care about those people he rescued, He’s shown no comfort towards them, not even a glance to the children he’d saved. He acts as if he’s too good for them. A real hero would be reassuring, give a sense of calm to everyone involved in a rather tragic turn of events”  he sipped at his drink angrily, nearly choking on it as you patted his back.

“ You mean a hero like All Might?” you offered, knowing that the hero had a special place in his heart. 

Instead of the perky response you would have expected, his lips turned to a thin line, staring into a far off place beyond the TV.

“Yes....just like All Might” 

Figuring he was still going through the appalled emotions from Endeavor, you didn’t press the matter, turning to focus on something else, his latest client, or even a Karen you had encountered earlier that morning. He took your bait readily, eager to listen.

It took you awhile to notice, but during your lunch breaks, on the days he didn’t come in early, he would always be watching the news. He’d rip them to pieces with a barely concealed snarl. He’d rant and rave, while keeping in mind the other customers. He talked about the villains even, and how they were people as well, forced into unfortunate situations, where were the heroes then?

As much as you would have liked to stay in the hero worshiping normalcy, the more he went on the more you began to realize, heroes were actually rather corrupt. You could feel yourself becoming angry alongside him. Why did they do that? What about the people they were rescuing? What about these so-called villains?

You shook your head from your thoughts, looking down to see your next customer that afternoon, a young girl no more than ten years old just out of school and looking to buy a snack and a small drink. 

You sent her off on her merry way, happily sitting down at a table and munching on her snack. Checking your watch, you realized it was time to take your lunch. You sat down at your usual booth and waited for Izuku, sipping at your own drink.

The bell by the door went off, your eyes instinctively looking to see who had entered. Time slowed down as three men came in, guns at the ready and masks pulled over their faces. The first had a black mask, the second having a red one, and the third having a white one.

“Alright! Nobody moves, and no one gets hurt!” the first one shouted, as horrified shrieks went off in the small shop. “Put your hands up and go over there!” he motioned with his gun to collectively gather in a corner. You obeyed along with everyone else in the shop.

The second one aimed his gun steadily at the barista at the register, “No! Not you, you’re going to fill this with all the money you have!” He threw a bag over at the barista who shakily picked up the bag where it had landed, tears running down her cheeks. 

The third held out a bag to the gathered group, “ Put anything valuable in here! Watches, Jewelry, Money, Phones, all of it!” He shouted, an elderly woman shakily began taking off her earrings, another gentleman taking his wallet out. 

The young girl stared with wide eyes, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks, face red as she tried to be quiet, but her hiccups would not allow her. When red looked over at the little girl, her wails increased tenfold.

“Hey! Shut up before I give you a real reason to cry about. You don’t want that do you?!” he shouted, taking a step forward the girl took an extra step back as she put her arms out in front of her to protect herself.

“I said QUIET!” he raised his hand.

Your body moved on it’s own. 

You took the hit for the young girl, your cheek stinging from the impact. That didn’t matter, not over the safety of the little girl, the roar of your heartbeat thumping against your cheek.

“What the hell?!” “Just leave her alone! She’s a little girl, she’s just scared!” You held your arms out, effectively blocking her from view. The elderly woman took the girl to her side, watching for the slightest movement from the robbers.

“ So you want to take her punishment? Is that it brat? Fine,” He shoved you down to the ground easily, glancing over to the young girl, “Take this as an example of what happens when you disobey me!” 

You couldn’t hear anything, your sight blinded as well as his foot collided with your stomach, sending you rolling across the ground. He pinned you down as he punched you, over and over again, arms, stomach and your face, seeing stars as your head hit the ground.

Izuku...Izuku please....

You didn’t know what you wanted from him, whether it was to save you from the pain somehow, or to not show up at all in fear he’d try something heroic like you did. 

The shop doors burst open, a cloth or tape like substance shooting out from someone you couldn’t see, wrapping quickly around the robbers, dragging them to ram into one another, the shock of it making them let go of the guns they held so tightly onto. You faded in and out of consciousness, even though the sounds of battle continued on.

It was all a blur as you slowly came back into reality, sitting in an ambulance being checked over by a nurse. The other heroes who had arrived stood before you, scolding you for your actions.

“What were you thinking?! You put yourself and the girl at risk! They could have made you watch as they hurt her!” 

What was I supposed to do, let her be beaten?

“There were so many other things you could have done! Next time think through your actions before you do anything!”

What could I have done? You fail to mention what else I could exactly do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

But you didn’t say that. You took the abuse as the nurse began to shoo them off, proclaiming that they’d made their point, nothing more could be said. It wasn’t long before the nurse gave you your results. You were a bit battered but otherwise alright, you’d bruise like hell but you amazingly didn’t have a concussion. Once you were home you were to Ice the bruising spots. With that they sent you with your things back home.

Upon entering your home you changed out of your clothes, something bubbling under your skin. It felt so up close and in your face you couldn’t decipher it. You changed into some incredibly soft shorts and tank top, wincing as you moved to change. 

The silence was too much in your apartment, with shaking fingers you called the only person you could.

“(Y/N)?” “Izuku..” something in you snapped as you heard his voice, a sharp gasp turning into a sob. “(Y/N)? What is it, what’s wrong?”  “I...Can...can you come over? Please? I...I don’t think I can over the phone”  “What? Yeah, Yeah of course, I’ll be right there!”  You gave him your address and hung up after that, flopping onto your couch and hugging a pillow.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive, but it felt like forever and a second simultaneously. The swift knock at your door startled you out of your blank and racing thoughts. He was dressed in casual clothing, some jeans and some random white button up, a thin green vest over top. Your vision blurred as he stepped in at your allowance, going head first into his chest as you sobbed. He grunted from the impact, but wrapped his strong arms around you regardless. “ Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here” he cooed softly into your ear, “ Here, let’s go to the couch alright?” You nodded but didn’t let go. You shuffled your way to sit on the couch with him, only parting to readjust his hold.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop today,” you sniffed, resting your head on his shoulder, “ There was a little girl there...she was so scared, she was crying. The...one of the robbers got angry at her, which made her more scared. So I...I took the hit for her”

He lifted your face gently, examining the forming bruise. His frown showed his worry, but he didn’t comment on why you ran to this girls side, “ I was wondering about this black eye I see” You nodded, continuing your story, “Yeah...He didn’t like that I’d taken the hit for the girl...so as an example he beat me up. I don’t remember too much after the ‘heroes’ arrived.” you spat.

“But the heroes arrived and saved everyone, that’s good right?” he prodded. If you had been more aware, you would have heard the underlying tone in his voice. He didn’t really believe the heroes had done well, not with how you spat their name as if it was venom. 

“They told me i was stupid for putting myself in front of the girl, that I should have done something else! What else was I supposed to do? My body moved on it’s own! They could have tortured the girl to get a rise out of me, or hurt the both of us…” As you said those words, another sob tore from your core. “Maybe they were right, maybe I should have just...I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t think of anything faster.”

Izuku cut you off gently cupping your face in his hands, thumbs softly brushing away stray tears. Your eyes refused to meet his.

“Oh darling, look at me,” hesitantly you looked into his eyes, filled with concern, determination and...something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was so soft...so powerful. “You’ve done nothing wrong, you are perfect darling. Without you, that girl could have ended up beaten, or worse!” 

The endearment was new, but not unwelcome, his words wrapping you in a soft blanket of safety.

“You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, everything about you, you’ve done nothing wrong. So please, don’t apologize” You leaned forward to hide in his chest as his words brought a fresh wave of tears. He gently rubbed your back, taking care if you so much as winced to move his comforting circles. 

“It isn’t right that they lectured you. You had just gone through a traumatic event, you needed reassurance, kindness. You aren’t trained to be a hero, you acted on instinct. An instinct that hardly anyone else in that room had. They acted so wrong to you” he whispered, “Those ‘heroes’ are what's wrong with the hero society as a whole. Things need to change”

“But I don’t know how to do that, or where to even start” you whined, your hiccups slowly dispersing. 

“Join me” 

Wait...what?

“Join you...I don’t...I don’t understand…” You look up at him, searching for any hint that it was a badly timed joke. You found none. 

“When I told you I worked with computers....I wasn’t lying, but only technically. You see, I work with this group, as a hacker. We’re going to show the world what these heroes really are, and the need to fix them. The roaches will have nowhere to hide, not from the public, and certainly not by the hero commission”

That was...quite a bit to process. He was a Villain?! All this time?! 

You were shocked, your heart sinking to your stomach. “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” You knew why the second you said the words...but you needed to hear if those were the same words he’d say back. 

“If I’m being honest darling...I was scared. You were always so kind, so soft hearted, to learn you were talking with a villain? Plus, it wasn’t like I could just...tell you in the shop right?” the corner of his mouth lifted up into a slight smirk, though it quickly vanished.

You thought back to today, how angry the heroes had made you. How many others did they tell the same thing when they were just trying to help? How many children paid the price? How many people? 

But the feeling of fists landing on you echoed back in your rapidly increasing heartbeat. You couldn’t do that again, not against a villain, not against heroes, not against anyone!

“I...I’m not cut out for villain work Izuku, you see what happened to me! I...I couldn’t go through that again...I don’t want to go through that again”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, warmth blossoming from the spot. “You don’t have to, just...supporting me is enough, more than enough” he took your hands in his, gentle circles rubbed into them. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, or move, or anything, just knowing you support me? It fires me up, I have to do this, for you, for everyone, to right the wrongs that have been done. What do you say?” his green eyes were lit up in hope.

Your hands squeezed his, “I do.”

[thetradeway]

Session 51 Sep 18 2021: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

Right - where were we? Oh yes, we fought some piranha and found some chests and some Duergar statues. We fill Mina in on what she missed; she offers to craft Gideon a new finger.

“No… No, I don’t want your goblin crafts on my body!”

Then there’s some waffle about covid deniers. (Ed believes covid is real; Gideon does not.)

Who wants control of the urine-drenched sorcerer? Sophie, OOC: “You make it sound so appealing.”

She agrees to take Ahleqs, if Matthew will help her out.

Now, when I put a message on the group chat earlier to ask if we were starting at the usual time tonight, our illustrious DM messaged back to say ‘Yep yep yep thumbs up emoji smiley face emoji’ which was far too enthusiastic. We are all now very wary. Ardvack slams a potion before we get started.

Right, where were we going? There is still a strange magical island with a wall around it to explore. There is a boat that leads to it; Gideon advances to Investigate. It looks old but in good shape and water-tight. There are oars. He thinks three will fit in it; he volunteers as do Tarragon and Melaina. Gideon, sternly: “No pilfering, rogue.”

Tarragon rows us across. Do the others want her to go back and pick them up? Apparently not.

Gideon investigates the magical barrier, which is blocking the door, but rolls a nat 1. We make Perception checks - the giant statue of the dwarves god of crafts has an offering bowl at his feet, with something written in Dwarvish. Gideon would read it, but Ed’s buggered off.

“You cannot enter this room.”

Tarragon decides to take this as a challenge. She takes out a gold piece and puts it in the offering bowl; nothing happens so she takes it back out. Gideon covers the ‘not’ part of the carving so it reads 'you can enter this room', but that doesn’t seem to help either.

Tarragon looks at the magical wall. It’s blue, and looks a similar colour to the brazier in the other room. Could we light a torch from the brazier and try waving that at the wall? Maybe. In the meantime Gideon puts some food in the bowl; nothing doing.

Ardvack, shouting across the water: “Have you tried blood?”

Gideon squeezes some blood from his severed finger stump - still nothing. Tarragon rows the boat back to get Kessler, who has hopefully been lighting one of her torches. She has not been able to light her torch from the brazier, however; it won't catch.

Is the bowl loose? Could we pick it up? No, it’s attached to the floor. Could Kessler pick up the brazier? It won’t move either. Time for stupid ideas.

“Hey Carl,” shouts Kessler pointing at the brazier, “put your hand in that.” Carl does not. Kessler gets just such a doggy look from Ardvack; she laughingly tells him she can’t tell because he has no face. Instead he leans down and says snottily, “Carl is precious.” He investigates the brazier. Can he feel warmth coming off it? Nat 20.

There is no heat coming off it. It does create light, but there is no noise. It is not consuming anything physical. He doesn’t think it’s evil or necessarily good; it’s just a spiritual fire. Ahleqs does an Arcana check. It’s some kind of divine magic; he is fairly certain it could be extinguished with a high enough levelled Dispel Magic spell.

Ardvack puts his hand in the brazier; it doesn’t burn him. He puts his whole head in. He’s a bit light-blinded afterward for a minute or so, but is otherwise unharmed.

Tarragon has Dispel Magic, but doesn’t have it prepared. What about Ahleqs? He doesn’t have the spell at all.

Gideon wants to rest his battle-axe on the offering bowl; he does that, but nothing happens. He rescinds the axe. Perhaps crafts, considering the nature of the god? Perhaps something he’s made?

Ahleqs has Ardvack’s leather face mask at the moment; since that was made by Kessler, perhaps we could try that.

Melaina is Investigating the door behind the wall of force. She can see beyond it to a ruined dock. If she puts her hands out to the wall of force, she can feel it though it doesn’t harm her. Would putting the brazier out remove the wall? She rolls a low Insight check and doesn’t know. Gideon rolls a low Religion check as well; he doesn’t know either.

“Alright Goblin, you’re up. Do your thing,” says Gideon. She puts Ardvack's mask in the bowl, but still nothing happens.

DM offers a clue if we roll good on Insight; Ardvack, Melaina and Gideon all do. They think the inscription refers to the desired offering. Gideon wants to put something in the bowl that would not fit in the door.

What about a fish? They breathe air, and so could not pass anywhere above the water. Tarragon steps into the bowl and Wild Shapes into a fish; still nothing happens. She changes back. Is this one of those children’s riddles that we should have definitely got by now? Joe says we will absolutely kick ourselves when we get it.

Ardvack picks a handful of mushrooms - and that bloody well works. You cannot enter this ‘room. Goddammit. Joe removes the wall. If Ardvack had a face, he’d be looking smug.

We go through. Goblin shield goes first. She sees something horrible - it is currently standing motionless. It looks like a huge dwarf in heavy armour, but made of stone, and there is a faint red glow emanating from its chest. There is an open chest next to it full of shiny shinies; Kessler points them out to Melaina, possibly in hopes that she will go first. Melaina, sadly for Kessler, does not fall for this trick.

Ardvack ventures too close and it spots him - initiative time. (Ed has disappeared again. While we wait, we discuss Matthew’s zombie campaign. We will all be level 2 when we return, which gives us an ability called Zombie Grab. Matthew and Sophie order pizza.)

Tarragon Potions and readies a Thorn Whip (which always reminds Sophie of a Walnut Whip. Not the Ann Summers sort of whip, Joe asks? No, but interesting that his mind went there.) Melaina hides and shoots - 24 hits, for 22 damage. Her bow is magical, correct? Yes. Good. Okay. Bits of rock fall off the golem. Hooray!

Does she want to move, say, to run away? (Oh shit.) She moves back so everyone else can get in.

Kessler takes aim with her crossbow. 24 hits for 7 damage, and her weapon is magical as well. She reloads and shoots again for 7 more damage while Matthew and Sophie decide what Ahleqs is going to do.

They decide that he will cast Shatter on the golem. Ba-boom! It has to make a Constitution save - at Disadvantage. “Because you’re made of stone. Like an idiot.” But it gets Advantage on saves versus magic, so that’s just a straight roll. 13. “Ha! You lose!” It takes 19 Thunder damage. Ahleqs cheers, then hides behind Tarragon.

It rushes at us - Tarragon looses her Thorn Whip but misses.

Carl uses his big stick that Tarragon gave him, but misses, almost hitting everyone else around him. He was excited. He doesn’t move, but holds the line.

Gideon is up. “Ed stop eating sausages!”

“… How did you know what I was doing.”

He Acid Splashes it. The Golem fails the save, even with Advantage, and takes 9 Acid Damage.

Like the hero he has proved himself to be, Ardvack does a cautious tactical repositioning to get away from the golem, does Shksdjlsdglsghjkhhbllhh, and then casts Eldritch Blast. It hits, and more stone crumbles off the golem.

Tarragon does Greater Shlgljksdkgjfhl;jjjhh, just to flex on Ardvack, and hits it for 11 Bludgeoning. She bares her teeth at the golem.

Melaina falls back a little, and shoots again. Matthew and Sophie suddenly seem unable to hear the rest of us, so there is a short recess while we sort that out. Their wifi has died. I decide, in my infinite wisdom, to restart my computer; of course, it decides to install something without even asking and so I am still waiting for it long after Matthew and Sophie return. I miss a bunch of stuff; some people do some damage, and the golem does a thing where it forces a Wisdom save - those that fail have their speed halved, and can do an action OR a bonus action on their turn, but not both. Joe makes an attack for me, which hits. Tarragon is pleased. And then I’m back!

The golem is looking ropey. Its light is still glowing, but bits are falling off it. It turns on Carl, even though Kessler has imposed Disadvantage on it if it attacks anyone but her. 14 still hits, as does 29, and he takes THIRTY NINE damage. Carl is now on zero, having had exactly 39 HP previously.

Matthew, sounding worried: “This changes things.”

Carl makes a real death save - and fails. "No! Carl!"

Gideon's turn - and Ed has snuck off again. Or fallen asleep. We skip him for now and move on to Ardvack. “I’ll save you Carl!” Then, to himself as he runs, “Not my precious Carl…” He casts Life Transference. (A lovely, sacred, holy Cleric spell.) He saves Carl, but instantly regrets walking closer to the golem.

Tarragon batters it for 16 damage - the light begins to flicker and sputter in its chest. Does she want to move? “Nope!” She could bonus action dive in the water with the Quippers if she wanted? “… No thank you.”

Melaina does a Scorching Ray - one of the three hits for 7 fire damage total. It’s looking ‘exceedingly ropey’ but is still up.

Kessler gets the how-de-do-dis with her Thunder Gauntlets - she runs up it and yells “Red means stop!” and punches it in the chest. It falls to the ground in a big pile of rubble. We solved Joe’s Golem puzzle!

Matthew, immediately: “Loot its corpse!”

Kessler is holding the gem from its chest; it is no longer glowing. Ardvack sets about the treasure chest. It is open, and there is gold inside. He clicks on the loot chest, and adds 100gp to the 3000cp he finds. (428 cp, and 14gp each.)

Kessler: “Anyone got a Transmute spell?” (That's a lot of coins.)

Ardvack shares out the treasure as equally as possible. Kessler finds herself overburdened. Melaina slyly: “I could carry your treasure for you.”

Kessler: “No thank you.”

Where to next? There was a rope bridge in the room with the brazier that led to an island with a dead giant spider on it; Joe zips us all there for expediency.

Melaina crosses the bridge to approach the ‘very very dead’ spider; it looks like its moving around. Not the legs, but as if there’s something moving under the skin…

A swarm of maggots burst out of the spider, taking her by surprise. They swarm up her legs and over her flesh.

Melaina, equally horrified and furious: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

(This is why Joe was so pleased earlier isn’t it.)

She now has two rot grubs burrowing under her skin. We’ve all heard of these, the subject of adventurer’s tales swapped in taverns. Melaina knows she has to burn them while they’re still just under her skin, or they will burrow to her heart and kill her.

Well shit.

We roll initiative…

Ardvack fails at Eldritch Blast, and the grubs become resistant to that type of damage (Force I think?) for 1d4 rounds. (4. Fuck.)

Ahleqs does a Burning Hands at them. They fail the save and take 6 fire damage. Several screech, and curl up and burn.

Melaina wants to cast Scorching Ray on herself - she can do that. She takes two fire damage, and the grubs die. She can spend the rest of her action to squeeze them back out of the holes they burrowed in through. Delightful.

Tarragon moves to the side and Thunderwaves the swarm - they fail the save and are pushed off the bridge into the water to be eaten by the Quippers. Yay! Everyone wins! We move forward, Melaina at the head.

DM suddenly: “Stop there, Melaina!”

Us immediately: “Oh no!”

She finds a door with a shape carved in it - the gem that Kessler took from the golem looks like it would fit in there. That is not relevant right now, however, as she has charged forward and tripped a trip wire. She fails her Dex save and a giant ballista bolt sticks her for 14 damage. Could have been a lot worse. She decides she’s not doing anything else, even when tempted with a treasure chest; she goes to sit in a corner and sulk.

The treasure chest is on a different island, reachable only via a broken bridge. Kessler suggests throwing the dead spider into the water to distract the Quippers while we jump across.

Do we want to take a short rest first? Yes. Tarragon makes up some Relaxing Bark, allowing everyone to regain a couple of Hit Dice which we roll, and take potions. Ardvack casts Life Transference on Carl again.

We are about to move on when the DM has us all roll a d20. Uh oh. Anyone who got ten or more can get five more HP back, as we burned incense in a temple. Yay!

Matthew, grumbling: “Oh as soon as we get a long rest, you can bet I’m going to be re-summoning Admiral Pancakes…”

Do we want to jump the bridge after the treasure? Is it worth it? Melaina wants to; the rest of us are dubious. How far can she jump with a run-up? Ten feet. She could jump it.

“Alright then, I’ll do it. Whoosh.” Kessler follows her.

Melaina checks for traps - an 8. She can’t see any! Sophie, OOC, resignedly: “Oh, right, okay.”

She checks the chest itself and finds a trap mechanism - some nozzles sticking out of the ground next to the chest. She makes a roll with her thieves tools, and by the skin of her teeth (13) disarms it. It would have been bad; one nozzle would have squirted her with flammable liquid and the other would have set her on fire. She finds a Brooch of Shielding! There is another item, a ring, which seems magical; Kessler takes eleven minutes and casts Identify as a ritual. It’s a ring of Swimming!

Melaina gives the brooch to Ahleqs, as he would almost certainly appreciate anything that would give him some extra protection. We decide to crack on, as it would take another hour for him to attune to it. Besides, the longer we’re down here the more this place sucks so we’re all eager to leave.

Kessler puts the gemstone into the hole in the door and it creaks open; we walk through. We enter some tunnels, which are very claustrophobic after the caverns. It’s very dark. We follow them until we come out into another large cavernous room.

We jump to another map…

There are more islands with about ten foot tall towers with glowing orbs at the top. More water, and a broken stone bridge. (Is anyone reminded of Beverly?)

The bad news is, this room has glowing orb lights, a broken bridge, and more islands. The good news is, it seems quiet enough that we could take a long rest.

Kessler does her Alarm spell, and Carl - not needing to sleep - takes all the watches. We all take turns to watch with him as “his Perception is for shit.”

Kessler takes first, Tarragon takes second, and Melaina third.

Carl and Kessler make Perception checks. A 3 and a 6; oh dear. Kessler thinks she hears water noises, but it could be just the water on the shore.

Then Tarragon and Carl. 13 for Tarragon and a 16 for Carl. We watch some bats flitting about in the light from the strange tower; nothing dangerous, however. Everyone but Tarragon now completes their long rest. She retires, and Melaina and Carl roll Perception.

Carl is on fire tonight; a 17. He makes an Intelligence check - a 9. That’s actually not bad. After about 3 hours he becomes agitated and tries to say something, but can’t. Melaina’s nostrils are assailed with a foul stench; she looks to the water to see something breaking the surface of it. Which means that whatever it is doesn’t get a surprise round…

Melaina and Carl roll initiative. Carl has used all his good rolls on Perceiving. But he’s ready for anything; he’s got his stick.

Whatever is crawling out of the water looks like a troll, but dripping with horrible ichorous black ooze and smelling like a busy harbour at low tide.

Matthew, OOC: “They smell like a bonfire of nappies. No - a burning zoo.”

Melaina hides behind some mushrooms; triggering Kessler’s Alarm spell as she leaves the area (because Kessler didn’t specify otherwise). We all wake, and can roll Initiative next round. Melaina takes aim with her longbow. 19 to hit with Sharpshooter, which does. She gets a nat 1 for her Sneak/Sharpshooter which is only a measly 25 total, plus her bow’s damage of 9 for 34. The thing lets out a howl, which would have woken us if the Alarm spell hadn’t.

It approaches us. It’s wearing a loincloth; small mercies.

Everyone but Ardvack and Melaina makes CON saves as the troll runs a filthy claw down its own forearm for a venom spray attack. Gideon and Tarragon take 18 poison damage and are poisoned. The others take half damage and are not poisoned. Now it does its multi-attack.

It has a bite at Tarragon but misses, then a claw at Kessler and misses. Then it claws at Gideon, and misses again. Ha!

Another one shambles up, but doesn’t attack yet. It’s Carl’s turn; he uses his zombie agility to run up to one of the trolls and give it a good old Slam - “Classic Slam - ” and uses his Zombie Grab to try and grapple it. They make contested STR checks - Carl wins even with a 14. The bad news is that part of the troll’s corpulence is ruptured, emitting a black foul ichor into the air - Tarragon and Kessler take more damage as it, however unintentionally, does an Acid Splash.

“… Thanks Carl.”

Melaina goes first. She goes to move but takes 15 Force damage from the towers. What??? Sophie OOC, to Matthew: “Honey, I’m being shot by the nasty tower.” She was just inside its range. She shoots one of the trolls. She hits, and causes another Acid Splash. Tarragon has just woken up from a Long Rest, and is now under half HP. Melaina does do 34 damage to the troll though.

Gideon, with advice from Matthew, casts Grease under the troll that Carl is *not* grappling. This seems a classic ‘Grease’ situation. It rolls a DEX save, and fails, falling prone.

Tarragon casts Lesser Restoration on herself, ending the Poisoned effect, Rages, and steps out of range of the Venom spray.

Ahleqs screams the incantation for Mage Armour, and steps back also. Kessler’s turn, and she will risk stepping back. One is restrained and the other prone, so no attack of Opportunity. She takes out her crossbow and shoots at the one grappled by Carl. 20 hits for 11 piercing damage. “And I will shoot that sucker again.” 17 also hits for 7 damage. She drinks one of her potions; wise.

Carl takes 18 poison from Kessler’s attacks on the troll, but he’s immune to poison. Carl has the Grappler feat, so even though the troll is a size larger than him it doesn’t get Advantage on the Strength check to free itself. They roll straight Strength checks - Carl rolls a ten, and the troll rolls a 6, even with a plus four modifier.

The prone one uses half its movement to stand up and moves forward, biting at Kessler - 26 to hit. It actually hits her! Even Shield won’t do it! She takes 6 piercing and 6 poison damage, and is poisoned until the start of the troll’s next turn.

It claws twice at Tarragon; “Bring it.”

24 hits, the ten doesn’t. Ten slashing (halved to 5) and 6 poison (not halved). She’s at 19HP now, and hasn't even attacked yet.

Ardvack wakes up to see the trolls attacking. “Ah. It must be Wednesday.” Matthew, OOC: “Im going to do… something… stupid. Or… brilliant.” Seeing the damage Tarragon and Kessler have taken, he heals Tarragon for 11HP. She blinks with surprise, and he backs up.

We call it there as it's getting late...