#AND EVEN IF IT HAS SMUT ILL READ IT IF IT'S MOSTLY PLOT (sorry for the capslock jumpscare im just desperate ☠️😭)

[fluffylixie]

AAAA okay so, im gonna kinda rant a bit ☠️

i've been in a reddie fanfic reading slump lately and i thought that "perhaps i should go to tumblr for fic recommendations!!!" so here i am, looking for reddie fic recommendations 😭

i will literally read anything that isn't completely smut-centered, as i prefer to not read smut but if it's mostly plot i will give it a try! (i have no specific criteria for these, when i say "i will literally read anything" i mean it!! you can recommend heart-wrenching prose, or your average crackfic-chatfic and i WILL read them)

[kamaluhkhan]

maybe it's my fault

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: lately, you've been feeling a ton of pressure, you're way too busy, and you're barely sleeping. life is taking its toll on you, but you drop everything to be with shuri when she needs you most.

warnings: angst! mention of illness and death (t'challa's, mostly). reader has a bit of a saviour complex. lots of plot w/ a little smut ;)

author's note: hi hi it's been too long since i've written a fic, but i just rewatched black panther so i decided to finish one of my drafts. this could be read as a part 3 to my other shuri fics, but it's wayyy more angsty than i usually write. also happy endings.....we don't know her! you've been warned.

you were in the kitchen, chopping up fruit for a smoothie, while sam and bucky were watching the news in the living room. you could only hear muffled sounds from the tv thanks to the lecture you were rewatching through your earphones, hyperfocused on absorbing as much information about genetic coding — the topic of your last exam before spring break — so it was easy to miss sam calling your name until he was practically shouting. you finally removed one earbud.

"yeah?"

“when's the last time you heard from your girlfriend?" 

"i don't know," you answered, still mostly focused on your professor droning on about complex protein structures while you kept cutting up strawberries — and tried to keep your eyes open. you probably hadn't slept in 36 hours. "we've both been busy. why?"

there was no immediate answer, which you didn’t think much of until you looked up and saw what they were watching. in shock, you accidently let the knife slip, and it nicked your thumb instead of the fruit.

"fuck."

blood dripped from your hand, but your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

KING T’CHALLA, RULER OF WAKANDA, DEAD FROM UNKNOWN ILLNESS. COUNTRY IN PERIOD OF MOURNING. 

you could tell from the way bucky and sam were silent that they were also overwhelmed with the news. t’challa was an avenger, a teammate — but he was also a friend. he was compassionate and wise and always made you feel welcomed, even when some of the elders disapproved of shuri dating an outsider. this hurt you, deeply, especially after losing so much of the team in the battle with thanos. but none of that mattered — all you could think about now was shuri….

you instantly pulled out your phone, and tried to call her. 

it’s shuri. i’m probably designing better technology, so i’ll call you back with that. 

you then tried the kimoyo beads on your wrist, but still no answer. 

“i have to go.”

sam nodded. “just let me look after your hand first —”

“i’ll deal with it on the quinjet.” you ran to your room down the hall, and grabbed your overnight bag (thank Gods you hadn’t unpacked yet, even though you’d decided to stay over at Avengers tower this week). “i just finished fixing up the old one, so i’ll take that and you guys can still use the new one for your mission tomorrow. if i leave now, i’ll get to wakanda by morning.” or maybe midnight. or afternoon? there was also a time difference that you couldn’t quite remember. “i’ll call peter on the way, let him know what happened. can you tell the others?” whoever is left, you thought to yourself.

again, sam nodded. bucky mumbled a simple take care as you start to leave for the quinjet.

sam called your name, so you turned around before a few tears could escape. he brought you into a hug. you couldn’t help but stiffen, a reflex because of so many i’m sorry for your loss hugs you’d gotten used to. when sam pulled away, he put his hand on her shoulder, eyes sincere but sad. “it’s gonna be alright, kid.”

you really wanted to believe him.

shuri’s lab was all too familiar to you. there was something perpetually alive about the space: always people talking, inventions being brought to life, loud music blasting. 

but, right now, it was silent. only shuri was there, designing something on the holograms and taking notes. 

you hear her A.I. griot announce that someone had arrived, but shuri doesn't seem to care.

“i told you i did not want to be disturbed,” shuri grumbled.

“he made an exception,” you replied, trying to keep your tone playful.

shuri didn’t say anything and kept working. “did my mother call you?” she finally asked. “i told her not to.”

you moved closer to shuri’s workspace until you were right next to her, leaning backwards against the desk but keeping your eyes on shuri and trying to pull her attention away from whatever she was working on — a suit, you guessed.

“she didn't call me. i came as soon as i heard,” you answered, crossing you arms. “but i did talk to her and she seemed…worried.”

“there’s no need to be,” shuri said. “i’m fine. we had the funeral — it happened, it’s over.”

you uncrossed your arms, sighing deeply. “you know, your brother once told me that in wakandan culture, death isn’t the end. it’s a stepping off point. then, he told me that he believed, even if they’re gone from the physical world, the people we love never leave us. their lives aren’t over if we honor them, keep loving them.”

t'challa's thoughtfulness helped you after losing tony and steve, and it was something you wished you had heard earlier in life. something that gave you hope, made you feel a bit lighter when it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you.

but, hearing this prompted shuri to freeze momentarily, though she couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eye.

"i am not my brother.” she went back to working after that.

for a moment, you simply watched your girlfriend work. shuri’s hair was different — braids gone and shorter than the last time you had seen her. her jawline was also sharper and her eyes a bit more sunken, like she hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

when it became clear that shuri wasn’t going to stop, you turned around and focused your attention to the holograms she was juggling. it wasn’t a panther suit, but what looked like a deconstructed dora milaje armor that shuri was redesigning.

“you want this to fly?” you noted the thrusters placed on the feet of the suit.

shuri glanced at you briefly before enlarging the section in question. “yes.”

you hummed, reaching over to zoom out to a full view of the suit. “if you add small repulsors, the wearer will have more control over how and where they fly.”

 “i was going to add something like that to the back.”

“i’d suggest the shoulders,” you said, tilting your head. “small, triangle shaped — kind of like angel wings. also, if you add reinforced plating to the shoulders and arms, you can redistribute the extra vibranium through the repulsor energy so the wearer can materialize a blade or a laser.”

“brilliant,” shuri mumbled under her breath.

you nudged shuri with your shoulder. “you would have figured it out eventually.”

“i know.” shuri leaned into you, a sign that she was softening. “that’s why it’s brilliant. i wish it'd thought of it sooner." she whispered the last part. there was a faraway sadness to her tone that made your heart ache.

you turned to face shuri, and gently put your hand on her cheek so she met your gaze.

"i think it's a sign that your beautiful brain needs some rest, baby." you knew what shuri was like, and based on your conversation with queen ramonda, shuri had locked herself in the lab for days.

shuri sighed, moving to kiss your palm before realizing the state it was in — freshly wrapped in a thin layer of gauze that you had bled through.

“what happened to your hand?” she questioned urgently.

“oh. nothing serious. just a slip of the knife.”

wordlessly, shuri brought you over to the medical bay and gestured for you to sit down on the table. you did, and shuri settled between your legs, using vibranium to heal your cut.

"shuri," you called after a few moments of silence, leaning your head down slightly to try and catch her eye. "you know i'm here for you, right?"

"i know." she finished cleaning the wound and wrapped your hand in a fresh vibranium-woven bandage. you wanted so badly to do the same — to wrap up shuri's grief, to protect her from pain, to help her heal.

"i mean that you don't have to, i don't know, act like everything is fine. we can talk about what happened — we can talk about t'challa."

"i know," she repeated, eyes finally meeting yours as she rested her hand on your knee. "i just....i can't. it's either i shut myself in the lab for hours or i think about my brother and want to burn the world down. and i can't...." shuri choked back a sob and her grip on your knee tightened.

you brought your hand up to her cheek, gently tracing the dark circles under her eyes with your thumb.

"well, what if we try another option?"

you spent the next few days in wakanda with shuri, ignoring your responsibilities in new york. most of the time was spent lazing around the royal palace, but with you shuri at least got enough sleep and food, even if you barely left her room at first. eventually, the two of you actually ate in the formal dining room. you could have sworn queen ramonda teared up when her daughter showed up again to share a meal since t'challa's passing. queen ramonda gave you a warm smile before the feast was served.

as you were walking back to shuri's room, stomachs full from a delicious dinner, your phone vibrated. you checked to see who it was: peter, texting to remind you of a lab assignment you had slipped your mind.

"oh shit," you groaned.

"what is it?"

"an assignment for my genetics class that i completely forgot about," you explained, rushing to open your laptop, which you'd left on shuri's nightstand after the two of you binged a few episodes of star trek (the original series). "one of our lab partners fucked up the results, so pete and i had to sort things out, but we've both been so busy...."

your phone vibrated once more, this time displaying an incoming call from jimmy neutron, your affectionate contact name for peter parker.

"i should take this."

shuri nodded. "let me help, yeah?"

considering how brilliant shuri was, you offered her your laptop without question. you paced back and forth, talking with peter over whether or not failing this assignment would mean you both failed the class, until shuri's voice cut through your conversation.

"why do you have a file with my brother's dna?"

you know exactly the file she was talking about, and it made you stop in your tracks to face shuri. you thought you were being too careful when you didn't attach his name to the file — but, apparently, you weren't careful enough.

shuri was sitting upright on the bed now, practically glaring at you as she waited for your answer. you tried to ignore your increasing heart-rate.

"pete, i have to go." you could hear him start to protest on the other end of the line, but you quickly ended the call. "well, we keep blood samples from every team member in case something happens."

hopefully your answer satisfied shuri.

it didn't.

"this isn't with your avengers files, though," shuri pointed out. you tried to grab the laptop back from her, but she moved it out of your reach. "and even if it was, you would have noticed something wrong."

"shuri," you warned, finding it harder to not let your voice waver.

"did you know my brother was sick?" her tone was harsher than before.

"shuri —"

"the samples show abnormal cell growth at an earlier stage than when i was working on a cure for him," shuri noted, turning the laptop screen towards you. like you, she must have spent hours looking at t'challa's dna to the point of memorizing its sequence. "so either you didn't notice that something was wrong, and we both know you're too smart enough to miss something that obvious, or — "

"shuri." this time, when you said her name, it was less of a warning and more of a plea. you did not want to go down this road. frankly, you were hoping you never had to.

"you knew my brother was sick and didn't tell me," she finished. shuri handed you the laptop and you closed it slowly, watching as she walked to the other side of the room before facing you again. "tell me that isn't true."

all you could do was bite back tears and hope the floor swallowed you whole. when it didn't, you took a deep breath and stood up.

"i can explain." you approached her, but she took a step away from you and scoffed.

"what's there to explain?"

"just....please." you walked back to the bed and took a seat. "let me explain."

t'challa intercepted you at your favourite coffee shop about four weeks ago.

it was march in new york, so hints of spring were starting to peak through the winter snow. you had back to back classes, but you always had time for a coffee in between.

the cold air hit you as you exited the shop, a drink warming your hand. you noticed him standing there: no dora milaje, no fancy suit, just t'challa. he wore sunglasses and a sleek black trench coat with a purple scarf, his silver necklace peaking out from the collar.

"t'challa?" you called, almost doing a double take. the two of you were friends, sure, and probably future in-laws, but the image of him waiting for you outside a student-run cafe felt too out of the ordinary. "is everything okay?"

he smiled softly, taking off his sunglasses. "of course," he said. then, t'challa did something that surprised you even more: he greeted you with a hug. as he pulled away, he added: "just in town and thought we could catch up. shuri said this was your favourite place for cinnamon lattes."

you shrugged. "my girl knows me well. could we catch up later, though? i have a class in...." you glanced at your phone. "right now, actually." you looked back up at t'challa, and something about how his smile faded away made you feel like this was more important. "you know what, i can get notes later. come on."

t'challa followed you to a bench nearby, scanning the area as you made the short walk. the two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you broke it.

"so, is everything okay?" you asked again, taking a sip of your drink.

"actually, no." he paused, voice low. you waited for him to continue, your heart beating fast as you tried not to expect the worst. "i'm sick, y/n."

"you're sick," you repeated slowly, letting the words sink in. "i'm....i'm sorry." you reached over and squeezed t'challa's hand. he gave you a sad smile in return. that was the thing about t'challa: he was always trying to put on a brave face.

"i need you to help me find a cure."

"of course," you answered instantly. you loved t'challa like he was family; you would do anything for him. but, something felt a bit strange about his request. "why not go to wakanda, though? i mean, i'd be happy to help, but the technology there is way more advanced than anything i could do in new york. shuri's lab has all the resources we would need."

t'challa shifted in his seat, breaking eye contact.

then, it hit you. the impromptu meeting, the uneasiness of t'challa's demeanor, the whispers as he explained the situation.

"she doesn't know, does she?"

t'challa shook his head. "she doesn't even know i'm in new york."

suddenly, you throat tightened and it felt difficult to swallow your coffee.

"am i the only one that knows?"

"you and nakia," he said. "i'd like for it to stay that way."

"but — but it's shuri. you're her brother and — and she can help us find a cure."

"so can you," t'challa countered. compared to your nervous stuttering, he kept his voice clear, measured. "you're studying biochemistry and cellular biology, correct? top of your class? my sister says you are almost as brilliant as her."

"almost," you laughed, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve before returning to your conversation. "t'challa, why not just tell her?"

t'challa reflected before responding, his eyes following a couple holding hand as they walked past you.

"my sister is happy," he finally said, turning to you. "i wish for her to stay like that for as long as possible. i believe this is the only way."

it broke your heart to know that, even as he was suffering, t'challa would do anything to protect shuri. you both knew what shuri was like: she would drop everything, go back to wakanda, spend many sleepless nights trying to solve this problem, to save her brother.

"are you sure?" you practically whispered the question.

"yes. i trust you can take care of this. in fact, i know you can. please, y/n."

his urgent tone, the sincerity in his eyes; t'challa was desperate, you could tell. this wasn't a decision he made lightly, to keep such information from everyone, including shuri. if you were the one he came to for help, help you would.

so, you promised keep his secret, to handle it yourself and carry on as normal. t'challa would return to his normal duties as king for as long as he could hide his illness. but, you set a term as well: if you couldn't find a cure within two weeks, when shuri went back to visit wakanda at the end of the month, t'challa would tell her and let her work to find a cure.

"one more thing," t'challa said after you had discussed your agreement. you were about to part ways, but you turned around when you heard him speak again. "shuri can never know that i came to you first. she's proud, my sister. if she finds out, she'd never forgive either of us."

you nodded firmly, but as t'challa turned to walk away, you called his name once more. you ran towards him and hugged him, tight. it startled him at first, just as you were when he greeted you, but he hugged back.

if you knew that was the last time you'd see him, you'd have held on longer.

over the next week or so, you worked relentlessly. you would've worked at the lab in avengers tower, but you knew you had more privacy at oscorp. occasionally, you went to class or had avengers business to take care of, but otherwise this was your life: rearranging dna sequences, examining blood samples, and mixing chemicals to try and find a cure for t'challa.

you came home one night, after hours in the lab. your only break was a brief stint stopping doc ock from robbing a bank. she'd managed to throw you around pretty hard — sleep deprivation made you an easier target, apparently — leaving you with a nasty bruise on your side. peter arrived to the scene just in time, and suggested the two of you celebrate with sandwiches as delmar's (where spider-man got a discount), but you made up an excuse so that you could return to the lab.

the apartment was dark when you entered, with only the kitchen light on, so you figured you were the only one home. you dragged yourself over to the sink to get a cup of water. you drank it in three gulps, and were reaching for another when you felt someone grab your side.

"fuck!" the cup fell from your grasp as you winced in pain. you turned around, too tired to even wonder if there was an intruder in your home, but met shuri's gaze instead. she was wearing boxer shorts and an oversized i ♡ wakanda shirt she'd gotten for you as a joke.

"shit. sorry." she knelt down to pick up the broken glass. you tried to follow, but winced again at the sharp pain in your side that prevented you from bending over. "don't worry. i've got it," she reassured, standing back up. "you've been busy lately. and pete told me about the fight with doc ock. you should rest."

you ignored her last comment. "i thought you were coming home late tonight."

shuri raised an eyebrow. "i'd say it's well past late." she gestured towards the clock on the stove. it read 2:27 am.

"right." between hours in the lab, with no cure in sight, and being thrown around by a scientist with metal tentacles, you were exhausted. it was the kind of exhaustion that settled into your bones, made everything feel heavier. not to mention the weight of the very big, life changing secret you were keeping from shuri....yeah, you weren't particularly in the mood to chat with your girlfriend in a dimly lit kitchen with broken glass at your feet.

before shuri could ask more about your day, you excused yourself to take a shower. you closed the bathroom door behind you, stripped yourself of your clothes, and hopped in the shower. you stood there for a few seconds, letting the warm water wash over you, until you were startled by the shower curtain opening.

"sithandwa, are you okay?"

"other than the minor heart attack you just gave me, yeah," you huffed.

shuri tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "are you sure?"

"i'm fine," you snapped. noticing how shuri's eyes widened slightly at your outburst, you tried again, your voice softer. "i'm fine."

you lifted your arm to close the shower curtain, but let out a strangled moan when the sharp pain in your side returned. shuri furrowed her brow at your reaction, until her eyes landed on the dark bruise forming under your left ribs. instantly, shuri joined you in the shower, fully clothed.

"you're not fine," shuri decided, placing her hand gently on your skin. "why didn't you go back to the med bay to have this taken care of?"

peter asked you the same thing when you parted ways earlier, but it was easier then to shrug off the severity of your injury. besides, you had to finish up some work at the lab. but here you were in front of shuri, completely exposed, no where to run.

"i...didn't have time. you can scold me later, okay? right now, i just want to relax."

you exhaled as shuri's fingers grazed your skin. with how preoccupied you had been — along with the guilt at hiding t'challa's illness from her — you and shuri hadn't been intimate in what felt like forever. it felt good to be close to her, for her to touch you again.

by then, shuri's clothes were soaked through, the white fabric of her shirt clinging to her skin, transparent enough to reveal her dark nipples underneath. you couldn't help but stare.

"like what you see?" shuri smirked. her fingers started trailing south, reaching your hips.

this made you roll your eyes, and you just had to smile at how cheeky your girlfriend was being.

"you know i do, pretty girl."

"hm. you said you wanted to relax?"

you nodded, and not even a second later shuri had her body pressed against yours. it sent a shiver through you, despite the warm water from the shower. she brought a tattoed hand up to your face, craddling your jaw.

"then relax," shuri whispered. she started placing kisses up your neck, and when she reached just below your ear, she added: "let me take care of you."

shuri gently pushed you against the wall, the ceramic tiles cool on your back. to your annoyance, she took her sweet time leaving kisses down your body.

"shuri," you whined when you felt her teeth graze one nipple while she pinched the other between her fingers.

"what is it, my love?" shuri pulled away from your chest. you knew she loved teasing you - something you mostly loved to hate. sex with shuri sometimes took hours: it was slow, deliberate, accompanied by an orchestra of laughter and moans and pleading (lots of pleading).

this time, though, she didn't even give you time to beg. shuri simply got on her knees in front of you. she briefly ran her tongue through your folds before tilting her head back to meet your gaze. "is this what you wanted?" shuri smirked when you moaned as she slid a finger into your cunt.

the shower went cold by the time you two were done.

you started drying off, carefully as to not further your injury. shuri left to put on fresh, dry clothes, leaving the ones she had soaked through in a wet heap on the floor. you were just slipping on your underwear when shuri returned, catching your eye in the mirror.

"what?" you chuckled at how coy she was being, hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"i have a surprise for you," shuri sang. she moved from the doorway to standing behind you, the two of you looking at the mirror. "close your eyes." you complied and felt a coolness surround your neck. shuri placed a kiss on your jaw, which made you smile. "open them."

you were met with the sight of yourself, top half completely bare except for a deep purple pendant around your neck.

"do you like it?" shuri gently wrapped her arms around your waist, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror, and you allowed yourself to melt into her. "it reminded me of the sky on our first date, and how beautiful you looked." she reached a hand up to trace the silver chain. "i was thinking i'd remake this with vibranium, maybe make it so the necklace holds your suit like t'challa's. you'll have to wait until i get back to wakanda to make the upgrade, of course."

at the mention of her brother and her home country, you stiffened.

"shuri." you exhaled and you turned to face her. "are you sure that you don't want to go back to wakanda sooner?"

shuri tilted her head. "why would i do that?"

"i don't know. more time with your family...."

"i've spent my whole life with them," shuri countered. "i'm moving to new york so that we can start our life together."

"i didn't ask you to do that — "

"don't push me away, okay?" she interrupted, wrapping her arms around your waist once more as though they would keep you in place forever. "you've been doing that lately, and i know you're busy, we both are. but, life is crazy and scary and unpredictable, and all i know for sure is that i love you. and i need you."

you wished you could return her words, as you have many times before, but the sentiment now felt empty.

it felt wrong for you to let shuri love you passionately, when you were being so careless with her heart.

you tried to shake away that feeling, telling yourself that keeping t'challa's secret was the best situation to keep him healthy and shuri happy - to protect both of them from any pain or suffering.

you told yourself that enough times, you almost believed it was true.

shuri looked at you now, and for the first time, you felt the heat of her anger targeted towards you.

"how long? how long did you know my brother was dying and let me believe everything was okay? how long did you lie to me?"

you took a ragged breath. "two weeks."

"two weeks?" shuri shouted. "i couldn't save him because i didn't have enough time to find a cure. you took that from me."

"i spent that time trying to find a cure, but....but i wanted to protect you, at least for a little while."

"no one asked you to protect me!"

internally, you kept replaying what t'challa had said: he wanted shuri to be happy, yes, but she could never know that he came to you himself and told you he was sick weeks before he told her. you wanted to honor the promise you made him, even as you now felt shuri slipping through your fingers.

you were never a quitter, though. it was your best — and possibly most self-destructive — trait. you tried to approach shuri, to grab her hand, but the second you made contact, she jolted away.

"my brother is dead because of you."

her words felt like a knife. you felt dizzy — there was no way to stop the bleeding, so you sat back down on the bed to ground yourself.

"i....i tried to save him," you defended. "after i first found out, i tried to find a cure myself."

shuri scoffed, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at you. "you just had to be the hero, didn't you? running around, wanting to save everyone. like you're the only one who can."

"i really tried," you choked. by now, you were holding back tears, feeling your head start to ache. you started massaging you temple to relieve some pressure, but it didn't work.

"and what kind of sick game are you playing, coming here pretending to be supportive? you're just feeling guilty."

guilty was definitely something you felt, but it wasn't why you came here.

you got back up and tried to approach shuri one more time, walking over to her slowly.

"i came here because i love you, shuri." your voice was softer than it had been before. "i loved t'challa, too -"

"don't you dare say his name," she growled, once again moving away from you briskly. "and i don't care if you love me, because i can never look at you the same way. we're done."

hands by your side, staring at shuri from the opposite side of the room, you almost couldn't process what she had said. she repeated her last sentence, this time a bit louder, and you shook your head as though to wake yourself up.

"shuri, please, don't do this. we're both in pain — "

"you have no idea the pain i'm in," shuri interrupted, and you noticed how she choked back a sob. "you can stop trying to be a hero for me. i don't want you. i don't need you." she paused. "not anymore."

to prove her point, shuri finally approached you. she tugged your necklace — the one she had so lovingly given you — hard enough for the clasp to break.

both of you were startled by the severity of her actions, how final it all felt. shuri looked, almost regretfully, at the purple pendant in her hand, but never met your gaze. she then turned away from you, the room settling into an uncomfortable silence as she waited for you to leave.

and you did, a few moments later.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | vii

Facing a daunting battle between vulnerability and security, y/n is lead to believe that in a decision of love, the answer must lie within simplicity. She quickly finds that true love is never simple, and the love that she has felt thus far has been nothing but difficult.

Read part six here

Pairing: sam kiszka x f!reader, jake kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, car sex, toxic parents, mentions of financial abuse, mentions of being poor/poverty, emotional talks, self-deprecation, insecurities, sad jake, sad sam, brief mentions of drinking, fluff, angst, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

sorry for the wait 🫶🏻 but here’s some more for you, and finally some good fucking character complexity. there is smut in this chapter but it’s not really hot and heavy, mostly used for the plot. needed some story advancement so i used this chapter for a lot of it. sorry for the wait, and if it’s not the best! have not been myself lately, but getting slowly there again. VERY lightly edited, too. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 😁

“Stop it,” you giggled, swiping the hand away that was so eager to plaster your nose with whipped cream. It was a fruitless attempt, as the boy was much more agile with his hands than you could keep up with. It seemed like as soon as you captured his wrist in your hand, he had wiggled free and reached forward to finish his torment. With a dollop of cream settled on the tip of your nose, you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be upset with the perpetrator. “Happy now?”

“Very,” Sam nodded, leaning back in his seat to bask in his victory. You used a napkin to wipe away the small mess he created with no ill feelings residing within you at all. His small teasing, all of the little things that he did to annoy you only ever seemed to make you fall for him harder. Which was why you were both leaned over one dessert plate with hearts dancing in your eyes, sat dressed to the nines and directly in the middle of a high class restaurant. “You look beautiful, you know. Whipped cream and all.” He gave you a soft smile, eyes lingering over your face with a type of longing that could have made you fall in love with him forever.

“Was the whipped cream the selling point?”

“Yeah. Didn’t think you could get any sweeter, but I guess I was wrong.” He chuckled, reaching his hand out for you to take. You let your hand rest in his, fingers dancing together in attempt to say all of the small things you couldn’t will yourself to tell him. Your other hand reached for your wine glass which had lipstick decorating the rim of the thin glass, showcasing the beautiful night you had shared with him. “Thanks for coming out, tonight.” He said it as if it were blasphemous that you had accepting his offer of a date. In truth, he was just thankful you still seemed to have so much interest in him.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You said, taking a long sip of your beverage. You were only on glass two, trying to keep the consumption light. You wanted to be in a good state of mind for the rest of the night.

It had been a few weeks since the beginning of your entanglement with the brothers. Weeks filled with memories, words of adoration, and dinners much like the one you were sharing then. Sam had seemed to fall in love with the idea of courting you, in love with shared meals at restaurants and walks through the city at night when the lights twinkled in the most perfect ways, and any other opportunity that arose in between. He wanted to win you over in the most intimate way of all; a show of true affection, not just sex in the heat of the moment. It seemed like every other day he was knocking at your door with a new plan, a new idea to spark your interest in him. At first, he seemed to pull away from you after the messy hookup in your kitchen. In truth, he was nervous and had no idea how to communicate it. Now, he’d jumped through the hoop and was back in the game with more motivation than before, if that were even possible. He loved having fun with you, and fun was all you had together. It was strange, knowing that he spent so much time planning things for you while he had the knowledge that you were still tangled in his brother.

Sam had taken the romantic approach, with dates and dressing up, and it was working in his favour. You were always excited at the idea of a night spent with him, wooed with fancy bouquets of flowers and holding hands as you sat for hours immersed in nothing but each other. His brother, on the other hand, had fallen victim to his own evil spirit, and seemed to spend every free moment he could getting you naked. Although you spent most time with Jake under the covers and in the dark, that did not mean his show of love was any less intoxicating than his brother’s. Jake showed it differently, always letting you know he was thinking of you even when he was not around. Jake was never a texting type of person, or a vulnerable man, but when the lights came on and you shuffled back into your clothes, there was never a doubt that he wanted you far beyond the routine you were so comfortable in. Good morning messages, coffee delivered at work exactly how you liked it, and the loving look in his eye when he saw you made it impossible to believe he only wanted something sexual. He loved you so much it hurt, and he loved you in the only way he knew how. That was no secret, and everyone knew it, even if it was always left unspoken.

Jake was not a stranger to dates, but it was never a grand show of affection or money. It was intimate, usually in a quiet place where he could focus all of his energy on you. They were few and far between compared to Sam’s itinerary, but they were just as meaningful. Jake seemed as though he wanted to know everything about you, and he wanted to learn as often as he could, in every way possible. He was enchanting and alluring, and you were still just as captivated in him as you were since the beginning. Although he was around less, it made the time spent with him all the more precious.

When it came to a decision, or who was in the lead in their foolish little game, an answer was near impossible. Things did seem to go back to a sense of normalcy after Jake visited you at work, and blatant jealousy was no longer prominent. You could still see it in their eyes, the flash of fire when the other left a hand on you for a little too long, but they did a great job of keeping it satiated. In turn, they both seemed to step up their efforts in pursuit by an overwhelming margin. To keep it fair and respectful, you had implemented a few boundaries that you were firm on. You were never with both brothers on the same day, and unless necessary, you did not speak to either of them about each other. You were big on communication, especially now that you had seen the disastrous effects of your own carelessness. Now, in some strange way, your predicament almost seemed normal. Without the knowledge that the three of you were all engaged in a twisted contest of sorts, it appeared as if it were just two boys stuck in a battle of courtship. When it came to the painful end, you all tried not to imagine the disaster of the inevitable.

You had made a vow to enjoy your life, even if they seemed to want to make it harder, and that is exactly what you did. Now that you had cemented a routine and some rules, the guilt and frustration seemed to fizzle away. Now you were happily able to engage in your daily activities without worrying about the consequences. In truth, you likely could have put an end to the game long ago, but deep down, you knew it would never really be over. The boys would continue on their warpath, forging any concern, and eventually, they would ruin the relationship they had as brothers. If you were going to put an end to it, you wanted to end it for good. You were desperate to teach a lesson that never should have been yours to teach.

“You ready to head out?” He asked, finishing his glass of water. You nodded, gathering the napkins and cutlery onto a single plate.

“Ready is subject,” you gave him a soft smile, finishing the last of your wine. “I’d stay with you all night if I could.”

“Good thing my bed has your name written all over it, then.” He said, a gentle squeeze on your hand letting you know he was more sincere than you could imagine. “We’ll get the work over with, and then we can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m nothing if not generous.” He assured you. You knew that to be true; the look in his eye was not one to be ignored, and if you had to guess, sleeping came last on the of the list of priorities for the night. “Now come on, the faster we get this over with the faster we can get home.” Just as he spoke, a waiter dropped off the bill as if it were a universal sign that it was time to go. Sam grabbed the bill so quickly that you couldn’t even engage in a debate, immediately standing and slipping on his jacket. He held his hand out to you, which you grabbed without hesitation. As you walked towards the exit, he snaked his arm around your waist, a silent show of affection. He paid and you were on your way without another word.

When you emerged into the parking lot, he took a moment to admire you in the low light of the street lamps. He turned you towards him, smiling down at you as a hint of love twinkled in your eye. You both knew, but neither spoke of it. One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb gently drifting over the soft skin. Your eyes fluttered closed, savouring the moment of sweetness while you anticipated the best one of all. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss that made your heart melt and your head spin. There were few things in the world that compared to the feeling of kissing Sam. It was like years of existing finally amounted to a moment of truly living. “Would it be too forward for me to say that I can’t wait to get you alone?” He asked as he pulled away.

“I’m glad you said it, because that means I don’t have to.” You giggled, allowing him to lead you towards his car. He opened the passenger door for you, shutting it gently as you settled inside. As he got in the drivers side, you looked to him with an air of awe in your eyes. His hair was flowing down, framing his face in a beautiful display, his lips soft and inviting, and his eyes full of the comforting feeling of home. You couldn’t help but reach over and brush your thumb across his cheek. The gentle touch caught his attention, pulling a smile from his lips. He glanced towards you, looking down at you with nothing but love in his features.

When his eyes connected with your own, you felt a warmth wash over you despite the lingering chill of the evening air. That was just the way it felt to be with him, and you were understanding that more with each day that passed. It was like wrapping your hands around a steaming mug on a crisp winters day, or the flooding relief of a confession of truth after years of suffocating it. Loving Sam was a fierce endeavour, but not one in which the loving part was difficult. It was, however, difficult to comprehend just how right it felt when his hands were touching you, or when he spoke to you with nothing but flattery in his tone. It was a struggle to understand how the world did not particularly seem more beautiful when he was around; the stars did not shine brighter, nor did the flowers bloom abundantly in the fields. However, beauty did not reflect perfection when it came to Sam, and although the display of the universe appeared the same, it did not mean he had no effect on it.

Sam did not have to make the world appear more bright, because he made it more welcoming. Everything he touched seemed to blossom with warm invitation, like he had blessed it with a new sense of belonging. Every part of you that his hands graced seemed more right than it appeared before. There was no room for insecurities or doubts about the parts of you that you previously hated, because with the love Sam casted upon them, they ceased to exist in the first place. The world was not doused in artificial artistry with the addition of his heart, but the ground was a little softer to walk on and the air a little more crisp. The flowers did not overwhelm the earth, but instead appeared to be placed in just the right spots. Sam did not make the world more beautiful, but he did make it more inviting than it had ever been before. There was a new appreciation for every detail, love for even the things that had always been overlooked. A new sense of purpose, like all of the years spent wondering if you were on the right path had finally lead to a fulfilling destination.

He did not change your view of the universe by stepping in and obscuring every aspect that you had spent years believing true. Instead, he showed you a new perspective on how to appreciate it, how to love things that were bleak and how to crush any idea of being misplaced or unwanted. He did not make things better, but rather made them make sense, even if they were bad. In your time spent with Sam, you had found a new way to love yourself because of how he loved you. You knew this not just from the way he touched you, or how he loved to compliment you. You felt it in his kiss, and even when the moments that should have been awkward were silently filled with joy. You saw it in his eyes, and more importantly, your own eyes when you caught them in a reflection of the mirror. You had fallen for him faster and harder than you could comprehend, and it was a dangerous gamble to give your heart to someone so willingly. You thought it safe in his hands, but you still believed that he could drop it whenever he pleased, and even if it were by mistake, the aftermath would be disastrous.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, gaze still prudent. Every word was calculated, same with his gestures and touches. The fear of your heart slipping from his hand was heavy on his mind, too.

“You,” you were honest, lost in the twinkle behind his eye. He let out a chuckle, slipping his own hand to the back of your neck in a gentle embrace. He pulled you towards him, lips settling on your own like it was always meant to be that way. In a sense, it was. You and Sam were always meant to love each other, but unfortunately, you were meant to love Jake, too. The stars aligned so perfectly to guide you to where you sat in that moment, but they also made Jake appear in the back of your mind. As abhorrent as the infatuation with both of them was, your love was true, even if it was painful.

“Still thinking about me?” His face was still so close to yours that you could feel his smile.

“Always am.” You admitted, leaning forward for another kiss.

“Good,” he hummed, placing a third kiss on your lips. “I hope you never stop.”

Oh, how easy it would be to love Sam for the rest of eternity. So easy, that it was almost impossible to do, because something so simple seemed impossible to be true.

“We better get to Josh’s house,” you mumbled, pulling your phone from your purse to check the time. “Shit.” You felt a sense of panic rise as you noticed the missed messages on your phone. “My people are already on their way.”

“That’s okay, his house isn’t far from here.” He assured you, settling back into his seat. Without another word, he pulled out of the parking space and began the journey to his brothers house. You turned your head towards the window, watching the night flutter by as you drove. Houses with warm kitchen lights flooding the windows, stores and apartment complexes that screamed capitalism, and the occasional group of pedestrians littering the sidewalks. You had lived in the city for years, yet always seemed to find something new as you studied it. It was an endless world, one that you often felt overwhelmed with, but you were learning to love it the longer you lived there. “Nervous?” His question broke you from your thoughts.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” He chuckled, reaching over and slipping his hand into yours. You looked down at your intertwined fingers, feeling a sense of wonder at the sight. You and Sam were so in step with the routine of relationship that it was almost ridiculous that you couldn’t see it. All of the cheap talk about the future, the wasted money on endless bottles of wine seemed to be a stepping stone to more, but neither of you seemed to be able to close the gap. You wanted to love each other, and that was certain, but it was not as easy as it appeared to be. With Sam’s fingers dancing in your own, both so full of love from the evening shared, you could picture a life spent with him and not feel any hesitation about it. When he left, and was out of sight indefinitely, the daydream seemed to slip away. When Jake was in front of you, you felt the same relentless need for a life with him. It was so easy to fall for them both, but it was impossible to stop.

“Excited, more than anything. Maybe a little scared, but that’s normal, right?” You asked, eyes fluttering towards his face again. It was so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire him.

“Of course it is,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “Think it would be weird if you weren’t.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, giving a slight nod. Just as you did so, Sam pulled into a side street. There was no room for further conversation, because the drive had come to an end. Sam parked on the side of the street, immediately noticing that the driveway was already littered with cars. You were thankful that Josh had opened his home for the occasion; it made it all the more comfortable for you, and almost took the seriousness out of the equation. Sam took it upon himself to get out first, rushing over to your door to open it for you. You gave him a soft smile, a silent thank you for his service.

You made your way towards the front door, passing a car that was still inhabited by a few people. You stopped at the window, noticing who it was almost immediately. You knocked in the glass, causing the passenger to jump at the disturbance. When they turned to look at you, their expression lit up. You took a step back, allowing them to get out of the vehicle. “I thought you ditched us.” She scolded, letting her eyes drift over your attire. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled, dismissing her worry. “Lost track of time. Sorry for making you wait.”

“That’s okay, we’ve only been here for a few minutes.” She assured you.

“You remember Sam, right? I’m sure you’ve met him before.”

“Yeah, I do.” She nodded.

“Dylan, right?” He asked, studying her face to try and recollect the details.

“The one and only.” She laughed, reaching a hand out for him to shake. He returned the gesture, barely noticing her give you a questioning stare out of the corner of her eye. “This is probably the first time I’ve met you sober, though.”

“Sober isn’t really the move at my house.” You smirked, looking to the car as the driver stepped out. “Glad to see you could make the occasion.” You joked, catching his attention as he walked towards the group.

“For you, I’d always show up.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Shall we?” He asked, nodding towards the house.

“We shall.” You agreed, making the first move to the entrance. When you stepped inside, you were immersed in chatter almost immediately. Although you couldn’t see the people, you could pinpoint the voices from anywhere. You followed the sound, entering the kitchen in which you spent so much of your free time in. Josh’s house was also a hotspot for hangouts, mostly when you weren’t hosting anything at your place. Although this occasion was much different, and for the first time in history, you felt nervous joining the party.

Around the table sat four bodies. In the middle of the table sat a stack of paperwork. You tried not to focus on your own erratic heartbeat, immediately finding yourself looking for Jake to calm yourself down. As if it were an unspoken promise, his gaze was already settled on you. He didn’t smile, nor speak a word, but his eyes softened enough to tell you how happy he was that you were there. “Right on the dot,” Danny said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You’re lucky.”

“Not a good first impression.” Josh let out a disapproving tsk followed by a grin.

“Oh, shut up.” You snipped, unwilling to be ridiculed for your timing when you knew they were hardly ever adherent to any schedule other than their own. “The only reason you’re here on time is because you live here.” At your words, everyone at the table let out a hearty laugh. Josh raised his hands in defence, but had no words to argue your statement. You looked behind you, ushering your bandmates into the room. Sam had already taken a seat in the empty chair next to Danny, cautious not to linger by your side for too long. It was not a secret, the dance you were doing with the two boys, but you tried not to showcase it too much. “So this is Dylan,” you pointed to the blonde haired girl beside you. “Our drummer.” You clarified. The boys gave a round of greetings. “And Riley, our bassist.” You pointed at the boy behind you both.

“Three man band?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s all we need.” You shrugged, taking a seat in an empty chair. The other two followed suit, likely just as anxious as you were feeling.

“So, this is our manager.” Josh motioned to the nameless man sitting across from him. “His name is Aaron, and he is going to explain all the boring legal stuff.” He gave a smile as he finished his statement.

“Okay, cool.” You nodded, turning your attention to the man in question. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He gave a warm smile as he reached for the paperwork. “There isn’t a lot to go over, so I won’t keep you for too long.” You gave another nod, suddenly nervous at the thought of signing any legal papers. This was something that had been in the air for weeks, discussed on the daily, but suddenly it was more real than it had ever been. The four sets of eyes watching you made it even harder to comprehend the extent of your agreement. “First off, this basically states that you have agreed to be employed under our management, which also means that you have accepted us to speak and organize events on your behalf. It’s all the terms of the tour agreement, including the terms of commissionable revenue, discounts on airfare, and employment requirements.”

“So basically what we have to do and how much we get paid for it?” Dylan asked, eyeing the stack of documents.

“Exactly.” He chuckled, looking to you and Riley to ensure you were under the same understanding. “You will get a copy of all of this, in case you feel the need to read the fine print or have any questions. I promise you that I will tell you all the important things tonight.”

“Would probably save us a years worth of reading,” Riley let out a nervous laugh.

“Exactly.” Aaron agreed, repeating his earlier answer with a smile still on his lips. He seemed like someone who was easy to get along with; you had no fear of him being in charge, mostly because the boys had eased any worry you might have had about him. They enjoyed working with him, and their opinion was important to you. “We’ll start with flights. Air discounts are included; any airfare that is not included in the outlined cost will be subject to special discount, assuming it is related to work.” You all nodded, allowing him to continue without interruption. “All administrative services are provided, including but not limited to booking flights, venues, hotels, etcetera.”

“Our business days are atypical, meaning that scheduled work time lies outside of Monday to Friday, and does not exist solely within the hours of 9-5. By signing you are consenting to the possibilities of weekends and nights, or even very early mornings. Your days off will be determined week to week, with the understanding that they may change within that time, too.”

“Looks like you’ll have to work on being a morning person.” You noted, looking to Dylan. She laughed, as well as the rest of the company. Aside from the four boys, Dylan and Riley were your closest friends and had been for years. You couldn’t have asked for better bandmates, and you had no worry about butting heads with them. They were easy-going and always willing to see reason.

“Don’t count on it.” You shared a chuckle.

“As for duties… showing up on time is the biggest one.” He let out a chortle as he glanced over to the boys out of the corner of his eyes. “They’re still working on that, but I hope that you can help them out.” You bit back a smirk, knowing just how fashionably late the boys could be. “With one opener for the first leg, aim for a 45 minute set. Sound checks, rehearsals, the occasional meetings and interviews are all a part of the job. You guys will be in the public eye now, which may take some getting used to. Just be mindful in public, mostly for safety purposes, but also presentation. Bodyguards have been hired on your behalf as well, just to make sure you’re safe.”

“Cool,” Riley said. “Makes me feel like I’m important.”

“Well, you are, now. Life will be much different, and we understand that this is your first time touring, so we’re here to guide you through it. Thankfully, these guys are pretty easy to work with, and so is everyone else. Marketing is covered, so you can choose if you want to do your own as well. We perform invoicing for any personal expenses, and if we see fit, reimbursement will be paid directly to you.” He explained, looking to the paper to see if he missed anything. “Travel insurance is provided. Unfortunately, there is a start-up fee for all individuals who will be travelling with us, but you can pay that on your own time. It’s just a down payment for services provided.”

“That’s fine.” You said, feeling a bit better about the situation. The more you spoke, the more the anxiety seemed to melt away. You would be going on a long trip with your best friends, doing the thing you loved most. It was a dream come true, and you were beyond excited to see the world. Still, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was filling you with doubt; some in regards to a lack of talent, but mostly in regards to the two brothers who you found yourself infinitely intertwined with. You wanted to believe that signing a contract that entailed spending every day with them would be okay, but the truth of the matter was that you were signing the final deal with the devil. All the events leading up to this was nothing but child’s play; now, they were inescapable, and you were willingly making the choice to remain blind to the dangers.

“In this section, it outlines your earnings. I’ll hand it to you to discuss amongst yourselves. We’re open to negotiation if you feel like doing so, but if not, we can move forward.” He passed the documents a little further down the table, allowing all of you to see the fine print. You read in silence, processing the numbers before looking towards your bandmates. When they finished, you all shared a collective nod of agreement.

“That sounds good to us.” You told him, handing the stack of papers back towards him.

“Okay, that’s good.” He said, flipping through the last few pages. “This is all the legal papers for our company, if you feel the need to read through them you can. Like I said, I’ll send each of you a copy of these once they’re signed. Any questions?” Just as you were about to answer, your phone rang in your purse. You reached for it, eyes dusting over the screen with a shred of distaste at the sight. You flicked off the ringer, silencing the noise, and put it away again. “We can pause this if you need to take that?” Aaron said, watching you with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head, dismissing his offer.

“No, all good. Where do we sign?” You forced a smile onto your lips. Before jumping back to action, he gave you a chance to change your mind. After a moment of silence, he continued on.

“So there’s spots for you to sign on pages ten and fifteen, then one last one on 30.” He said, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Once he flipped though everything, he placed a pen on the paper and left it to you. You signed in all of the required spots, handing it down the line as you finished. Your phone was still vibrating in your purse, eating away at your patience with every re-dial of your number. As Riley finished up, he passed the documents back to Aaron with a smile. He checked over everything to make sure you didn’t miss anything, and ended his inspection with a smile. “That’s it for now, then. Congratulations and welcome aboard.” He extended his hand towards you all, taking turns shaking each of yours. “We have your contact information, so we’ll be in touch about flight times within the next few days. Now, it’s just a matter of getting to know each other.”

“Awesome,” Dylan grinned.

“Which is why I have supplied some beverages for the occasion!” Josh stood, turning to his fridge to retrieve the alcohol he had bought for everyone. “Get comfortable, get drunk, and celebrate.” He said, placing an array of items on the table.

“Thanks, Josh.” You chuckled, feeling your phone ringing once more. “I’ll be right back.” You announced, quickly placing your purse on the table and grabbing your phone. You stood, turning towards the front door. The rest of the crowd was already lost in chatter, barely noticing your quick disappearance.

You broke out into the night, accepting the incoming call as soon as the door was shut behind you. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” The soft tone was infuriating despite your regret at feeling such an awful emotion at the greeting. “How are you?”

“Busy,” you kept your responses short, hoping to keep the conversation short, too. “You don’t have to call a millions times. I do know how to call back, you know.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” There was little sympathy in her voice.

“Whatever, it’s fine.” You sighed. “What’s going on? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault. I’m sorry I haven’t been calling.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I could have called, too.” Your anger was subsiding the longer you spoke, which was never good. You wanted to tell them everything, all about why you couldn’t answer the phone. You wanted to hear words of praise, a shower of love for your accomplishments, but you knew it would only be momentary gain, and it would do nothing but cause more problems. The less your parents knew about your life, the easier it was to cope with them. “How’s dad?”

“Oh, the same. He got a promotion at work, so hopefully that will help us out.”

“Yeah, that’s good.” You mumbled, looking down at the dress decorating your body. You flattened out the fabric, unsure of what to say next.

“I was actually wondering if you could do us a favour,” her hopeful tone told you that her request would be nothing but upsetting to you.

“Mhm,” You mumbled, debating on hanging up before she’d could say anything else. You hated being so cold with her, but it had been twenty some agonizing years of constant disappointment. You had learned the feeling of being let down long before you ever felt what it was like to be loved. You loved your parents, and they had never laid a hand on you are anything of the sorts, but they were hardly parents. Present, yes. Caring, not really. They were always around, but had never been actively involved. Things had gotten infinitely better when you had moved out, but it was mostly because you didn’t have to see them every day.

“We were just wondering if you could help us out with the bills, just until your dad gets his next pay check. We’ll pay you back, honey. I promise.” You rolled your eyes at the offer of repayment, because you knew it was empty. You had yet to see a dime back that you had lent to them in the past.

“Is that the only reason you called?” You couldn’t help but snap, the sourness of your hurt impossible to hide.

“Of course not!” She defended, hurt that you even thought that. You nodded, unable to believe her defence.

“You said that last time. I haven’t heard from you since.” Your voice was quiet, barely breaking through the night. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You chuckled, feeling tears prickle your eyes and a lump rise in your throat. “Just text me how much you need.”

“Honey, are you upset? I don’t want you to think that we don’t want to talk to you. You know that’s not true. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” she explained, but you were already done with the conversation. “You know how much we love you.”

“Yeah, of course I do. It’s just always important, right? And you’re always so busy… you know, I’m just… a little tied up right now. Just text me how much, I’ll send it.”

“Okay,” she said, hesitant to hang up. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too.” You said, ending the call without another word. You didn’t have time to mourn the loss of respect, because as you were attempting to blink away the tears, the door was creaking closed behind you. You looked back over your shoulder, immediately caught off guard by the overwhelming scent of sandalwood and sin. Sin, although not outwardly apparent, was always laced within that dreaded familiarity of sandalwood, and usually whiskey, too. It was sickening, but delicious all the same. Your eyes fluttered closed; his presence already wrapping around you in desperate anticipation for an invitation.

You had no words, nothing that you wanted to share or hear from him, either. Comfort was an alluring feeling, but you did not have enough strength to ask him for it. Perhaps it was fear that he overheard the conversation, or fear that he wouldn’t understand. There was plenty of uncertainties about the situation, and you had no idea how to navigate through them. Jake was lovely, fantastic in bed and enchanting with his wits, but you had yet to jump over the hurdle of vulnerability to any extent, and this was vulnerability like no other. Family was an off topic issue for everyone, let alone someone you knew so intimately. Any normal person would feel more comfortable telling someone so close, but it terrified you. In your mind, it just gave him more leverage to hurt you.

“I’d love to ask what’s wrong, but I’m scared you would think I’m overstepping.” His soft tone settled in your chest like a breath of fresh air. It was grounding, anchoring you securely to the wooden floor below you.

“You know I hate that question.” You whispered, finally catching his eye. As soon as you noticed the worry, you looked away. His concern was apparent, and it made you want to run and hide.

“I know, sweetheart.” He took a step towards you, hand settling on your lower back. “But you know I can’t walk away without asking.”

“Damn you.” You laughed, biting back tears. “You catch any of the conversation?”

“No, not really.” His hand slipped around to your hip, guiding you back towards him with a gentle pull. He knew you didn’t want to face him, and that was okay. He was content with just talking. “You didn’t look too happy when you came out here, so I thought I’d check on you.”

“Is that the truth?” You asked, blinking away the tears that were still pooling in your eyes.

“And I wanted to tell you how good you look in that dress.”

“There it is.” You laughed, but your predicament was everything except funny. You were so intertwined with both brothers that you sometimes failed to know which direction you were moving in. At the same time, you had never felt more alone. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that your body was never without love, but your heart was isolated. The issue was your own fault, though, and you knew that all too well. The two boys had never withheld any emotional love. Maybe they had forgone their own confessions in fear of hurt, but they never limited you to physical intimacy. You could tell both of them anything your heart desired, and they would listen as if you were telling them the hidden secrets of the universe. For some reason, you just couldn’t choke down the thought of showing weakness.

“You look too pretty to be so sad, Gold Dust Woman.” He hummed, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can’t be pretty and sad at the same time?”

“I’d prefer you to be pretty and happy.” He refused to drop the subject, unable to leave you feeling such a way without offering some type of support. “Talk to me.” You looked out into the night, your gaze drifting over empty cars and over-manicured lawns. Rows of flowers decorated dooryards, showcasing superficialities. Perfect displays always eluded to secrets behind closed doors. You thought of your own front door, pondering how many people theorized the secrets that lie behind yours.

Whatever they could conjure in their minds certainly wouldn’t be as bad as the truth; lies of a broken little girl who could never learn let go, one who allowed herself to hurt over the same mistakes she’d been making her whole life and couldn’t work to change, nor one who fell helplessly in love with two brothers at the same time whilst having no idea how to truly love someone. Perhaps their idea of a broken home and hidden truths was much more subtle than the life you were living. Maybe you would rather be in the shoes of some other person behind the corporatized front lawns if it were all to be discovered. Maybe yours was far nicer than anyone else’s, and you were destined to spend your whole life wishing for better while holding the world in your hands.

Either way, the thought held little weight; it was human nature to be envious of a life you couldn’t live, especially when someone else’s grass appeared abundant and greener, even if it did run rotten underneath.

“Sometimes I wonder if the woman I used to be disappeared.” You mumbled. “Or what she would think of me now.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, begging you to keep talking.

“I came out here with so much hope.” You explained, your head tilting towards the sky to search for the stars lost under light pollution. “Hope to change, to grow into something bigger than I always pictured for myself.” Even though it was nothing short of normal, his hand dancing in your own felt wrong. After such a sweet evening with Sam, you thought that his comfort was the only thing you should be seeking. But, he didn’t come to the door, and his brother had ultimately stolen the crown from him. “Hope that I would never be that person again. When I got to this city, change was the only option.”

“Did you change?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, the response automatic. After a moment, you looked back to the ground. “No,” you corrected, a sad smile crossing your lips. “Not in any way that matters, and not really in any way that’s good.” He opted not to respond, hoping that you would continue with your point. “I don’t know who I am, Jake. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going. Nothing.”

“I know, though.” He whispered, his grip tightening only slightly as he spoke. “I don’t think we ever have a real perception of ourselves. It changes, and we don’t see what everybody else does. But I see a person who would rather die than hurt someone, a person who loves to love, but doesn’t necessarily know how to be loved. Someone who helps any chance she gets, but hates to be helped.” He listed, his words soft and his eyes staring off into the night. He was scared if he looked down at you, he might make the dreaded profession of love. Instead of saying it directly, he opted to tell you that he loved you in a million ways softer than such a harsh truth. “I see you, Gold Dust Woman, and she is fantastic. I think every version of your past self would be proud of you. I know for sure that I am.”

Your jaw clenched and your vision blurred with more tears. You felt like you were suffocating from the wave of emotion that washed over you. How easy it would be to tell him you loved him, too. How easy it would be to end the war and go home to rest. It was wrong, all of it. His hands on you, the cold night enveloping you both into a bubble of serenity, the incessant need to tell him just how much you cared for him. It was never supposed to be this way, and it never should have been. You had no idea how to tell him that you were losing yourself because you loved him so much. Sam, too. The person you had become, stringing them along and playing into their twisted game, was someone you didn’t recognize. Someone who was worse than a stranger when you looked in the mirror; you had become so lost that you weren’t even in the same reality.

It hurt so violently because even though you loved him so dearly, you knew you were going to fall into bed with Sam that same night, even after such a raw moment of connection. Not only would you fall into bed with him, but you would love him just the same. If it were possible to hate yourself even more, you did just that.

You broke from his hold, gripping the wooden rail on the porch for support. The touch and sweetness of his words was suddenly too much. You couldn’t comprehend deserving any part of Jake, and the thought of accepting his heart with that knowledge was repulsive. You took a long breath, shaky from your choked back cries. “Jacob, you are so wonderful that it is devastating.” You heaved a sigh as the words left your lips. You finally turned to look at him, your pain painted across your face like a portrait from hell. He could see it in your eyes, everything you were holding back. You could see it in him, too. You wanted to hold him, to reach out and let him feel the adoration radiating from your skin, but you didn’t. Like a fool, you did the only thing you knew how to do; walk away. “But I think your view of me is far grander than it ever should have been.” You wiped the tears that had fallen and took a step forward. Instinctively, he reached his hand out to you, shaking with misplaced hope for you to give in to him. “I don’t need your help, Jake. I appreciate the thought, but it’s not necessary.” You caught his eyes, a silent apology before brushing past him and back into the house.

Your parents had done what they do best; morphed your sense of self so badly that it destroyed your self-worth. You loved Jake so much that it hurt you, but thanks to a mothers love, you felt completely unworthy of the everything he wanted to give back to you. You couldn’t communicate it with him enough to lessen the blow, and the thought of opening up to him about it was sickening. Running was the only thing you had ever been taught how to do, and you weren’t strong enough to learn how to stay.

He turned, watching you disappear into the doorway with his heart in his hands, beating for someone who didn’t know how to accept it. He waited for a moment, hoping you would change your mind. When you didn’t return, he began his journey home to stitch up his wounds with intent to try again tomorrow.

Self-punishment was a skill the three of you had quickly learned how to master, and you practiced it almost every day.

Inside, drinks were freely flowing and the air was abundant with happiness and excitement. Your bandmates had found themselves in comfortable chatter with the now familiar faces of the boys. Danny was desperate to relate to another drummer, quickly buring himself in the blonde. Riley had taken an interest in Josh and Aaron’s conversation, the three sharing words and a beer at the table. Upon entry, you searched for the only thing that you thought would make you feel better. Fortunately for you, he was already looking at you. He stood from his chair, immediately making a move towards you. He could see the sadness enveloping you, like a cloud of darkness looming over your head. He’d never seen such an emotion from you, and he was just as desperate as Jake to make it go away.

Of course, he was the first to notice Jake’s interest in your disappearance, and he was a second too late for the race to the door. He pulled you to the side, away from the crowd again. Seclusion with you was a temptation neither of the boys could resist, and they fell victim to the need every time they saw you. Before he had a chance to speak, you had already reached for his neck, pulling him down to meet you in a heated kiss. In response, his hands fell on your hips and drew you closer to him. The feeling brought another wave of tears to your eyes, but you held them back in hopes that you could salvage some semblance of peace. The guilt you felt for rejecting Jake was killing you, and the guilt of turning to Sam was already shovelling dirt in the grave while you continued to breathe it in.

You didn’t know what the problem was, why you were so volatile at the thought of vulnerability with Jake, when sometimes it seemed so easy to be that way with Sam. Jake had done exactly what he intended; he stalemated you into lust. He knew you were already in love with Sam, long before the idea of him even crossed your mind, so he needed a head start. In doing so, he had made the barrier of emotion so much harder to overcome. You loved Jake, but you had no idea how to express it. You loved Sam, but you already spent the last few months expressing it in any way you knew how. Jake was so desperate to keep you that he jumped to the fastest solution he could think of, and it had done nothing but hurt him in the long run. Sex with him was so normalized that it came so much easier than communicating. Sam barely had to exist for you to want to profess your feelings for him, because he had gotten you to fall in love with him with no intimacy at all.

The strife was impossible to overcome. You saw no way out, and understood that you would likely die trying. You were lost, not only in your sense of self, but in the whole grand scheme of things. You were tired, and you wanted to rest. Your idea of rest was home, and home was not a place anymore. It was a person. Well, two people to be exact. The thought of spending the night with Jake was comforting, yes, but you knew you could not do so without facing the uncomfortable reality of being intimate in a way much harder than sexual intimacy. The idea of being with Sam was more alluring than a bed of roses, and you needed it more desperately than water. It was easy with him, and it always had been. No complications of guilt nor regret. Sometimes, if you didn’t think too hard about it, you felt it in your soul that the right path lead straight into his arms.

“Take me home.” You whispered, your noses brushing together in a familiar dance. Your lungs were burning with a lingering feeling of regret for how you left Jake, burning with an anger towards yourself that you could barely comprehend. Sam felt so good on your skin that it was a pleasure to burn in exchange for a moment with him.

“I was hoping you would ask.” He hummed, placing another kiss to your lips. It was sweet, a show of appreciation for returning to him even after the temptation of his brother. You both slipped your shoes on and shut the door behind you as quiet as possible, hoping not to alert the rest of the crowd of your exit. Hand in hand, you both sprinted to his car, the feeling of sadness floating away after only a few moments with Sam. He opened the car door for you, gently shutting it as soon as you were nestled in the seat. He joined you in the vehicle, but did not put the keys in the ignition right away. “Did you want to talk about it?”

You looked over at him through the corner of your eye, biting the inside of your lip as you pondered his words. “I don’t know where to start.” You said, completely honest with your answer. You had no idea where to begin, or even if you wanted to. There was so much buried within you that talking was almost impossible, now. Although scared, you had less apprehension about sharing your thoughts with Sam than you did with Jake, and that in itself made you feel horrible.

“I’ll drive, you’ll talk.” He said, turning the car on. “I won’t even say a word if you don’t want me to.” The comfort of airing out your troubles with no judgment or unsolicited advice was irrefutable. You quickly realized that the offsetting factor was not your closeness with either boy, it was simply the fact that Sam just wanted to listen, and Jake felt like he needed to fix it for you. It had always been that way, even long ago when you were only friends. You could go to Sam with a problem and he would listen for hours, and talk only when you needed him to. If you approached Jake with any concerns, he would bend over backwards to help in any way he could. Both were good options, but each had a specific purpose, and right now, you just needed to be heard. Suddenly, the decision to speak was the easiest one you had ever made.

“It’s just my parents.” You stated, looking towards your hands in your lap. Sam couldn’t help but look over to you in shock at the sudden proclamation. Parents were an off topic conversation, and they were all aware of that. It was years of avoided discussion about any sort of parental figures, no mentions of visits home or family gatherings. Nothing even as small as a childhood memory.

“Parents?” He asked, cautiously approaching the conversation. He refrained from any more comments, waiting for you to respond.

“Yep.” You sighed, glancing out of the window at the flickering street lights. “They still suck. Always have, don’t know why I thought they would change.” Instead of saying anything, he reached over and slipped his hand into yours. The silent show of support was louder than any words of comfort. “When I moved here, I swore that I would never go back to that life, that I’d leave them behind, too. Guess I was just trying to start over, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes I feel like I could keep running for my whole life and I would never get away.”

“What were you trying to get away from?”

“Someone I don’t want to be anymore. Someone I never wanted to be.” You shrugged. “I saw what my parents went through when I was a kid. I never wanted it for myself, so I had to leave. If I stayed, I know I would have followed right in their footsteps. We were poor, like the kind where you would go to bed before dinner just so you wouldn’t be hungry. We wore clothes until they were barely wearable, falling apart and disintegrating on the rare occasion we could afford to wash them. I remember getting the power cut off in the wintertime almost every year. I never had friends over, I never participated in school events because we couldn’t afford the extra gas to drive me home afterwards. It got better when I was older, mostly because Dad got a new job when I started high school, but it was never great and when I was old enough, I got the hell out of there.”

“Struggling would have been tolerable, I think, if they were good parents. Unfortunately, they couldn’t even do that. I’ve been paying their bills since I was old enough to get a job, and they were never very loving or appreciative. I never hear that they’re proud of me, and they usually only say I love you if they want something from me. I didn’t have anyone to love me through the most painful parts of life, so after a while I kind of figured that I would never need to rely on anyone for anything. For the most part, I don’t. I don’t like talking about feelings, or saying I love you, or even connecting with anyone on more than the surface level stuff, but I hate being alone. It sucks, always feeling like I can’t depend on anyone, but needing company to function.” You took a long breath, exhaling with more relief than you had ever felt. It only took a moment to realize how profound it was to finally get that off your chest. “When I left, I swore I’d leave them behind and never let them get under my skin again. For the first while, I did okay. I paid off all the debt they racked up in my name and cleared my credit. I worked my ass off to get what I have now, and I did fantastic. Then one night I got drunk, and I answered the phone. I haven’t been able to cut them off again, and it takes a toll after a while, you know?”

“No, I don’t know, but I can understand why.” You looked up to him, eyes wide and full of wonder. He had forgone sympathy, and that was one thing you hated most. He had no idea what it was like to live your life, and he wasn’t shy to admit it.

“Yeah,” you whispered, admiring him as he focused his attention on the road. “I mean, I’ll be fine in the morning. Always am. It just sucks that I don’t even feel like I can tell them about my achievements. I didn’t even want to tell them about tonight, because they would just find a way to use it for their own sake. It sucks that I can’t trust my own parents.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over at you. “They’re supposed to be the ones who protect you, not hurt you.” He opted to keep his response light, because the feeling in his chest was not as pleasant, and he didn’t feel like it was his place to voice his distaste for your parents actions. Knowing that anyone hurt you was painful to him, because you were his whole world. Knowing that you grew up feeling unloved was hard to understand, because he had no idea how not to love you. Knowing that you still felt that way sometimes, even if you wouldn’t admit it, was excruciating, because he loved you more than he could ever possibly comprehend.

“Yeah,” you reiterated the same response you had both already said, not having anything better to say. “Because of them, I feel like I don’t know how to love, or be loved. I hate letting people in, and I don’t even really know how to. I have this crippling fear of being dependent on anyone, and I’m also terrified of being alone. So independent that people don’t even want to try and get close to me, but so scared that I’ll end up sad and lonely. Pretty ironic, right?” You laughed to yourself. “I’m all kinds of fucked up, and I’d like to blame it on them, but I haven’t really tried to change, either.” You chuckled. “I was always hungry for love, and I’ve craved attention for as long as I can remember. After years of waiting for it, I refuse to humiliate myself any longer, especially for their attention. I think one day you just wake up and realize that if your parents haven’t loved you yet, they never will.” He looked over at you, his eyes sad and showing you everything he wished he could say. You gave him a soft smile, but spoke before he could respond. “Anyway, it really doesn’t matter. It’s just the way things are. Thank you for listening. I don’t really… talk about that stuff. Nice to say it out loud, I guess.”

“Always, princess.” He gave your hand a squeeze to show he was being genuine. Your heart fluttered at the sound of the pet name, distracting you from the topic at hand. “And for the record, I don’t think you’re fucked up. Hurt, maybe, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, beautiful. You don’t have to apologize, and you don’t have to hope to be loved, anymore.” His words were quiet, and although he wanted to elaborate, he knew he shouldn’t. He pulled into his driveway, looking to you as he parked the car. When his eyes connected with yours, you felt the weight of the world crushing you. You had no idea how it was possible to love two people so deeply in such similar ways.

Jake was the moon, and Sam was the sun. You weren’t supposed to love the moon, rather sleep soundly through the night while the torment of white light passed through the sky. You were supposed to bid the moon a goodnight and wake when it was gone, forgetting that it existed amidst the business of your day. You were meant to love the sun, let the warm rays wrap around you and guide you through from the early hours of the morning until you were tucked safely into blankets and pillows. The golden glow was natural, something you were supposed to yearn for, and you did. For a very long time you were someone who loved the day, and you still did, but the more time passed, the more you found solace within the darkness under the rays of the pale moonlight. It was natural to love Sam, expected almost, and that was why you weren’t struggling with the idea. Your love for Jake came from somewhere within you that you never knew existed. Each day that passed, you fell more in love with the peace that came with the night, even if you were exhausted in the morning when you awoke.

The thought of choice was excruciating; how could you ever face the decision of never seeing the solace of the moon again, or never feeling the warm invitation of the sun?

Then again, how could you choose the moon when it was so natural to love the sun? Love was supposed to be easy, a simplicity beyond what you would expect. Never room for doubt, or guilt, and fulfilling beyond understanding. You felt all of that with Sam, and you felt it so strongly that it was unbearable by times. It was painful to love Jake, sometimes, like a desire that you should keep locked up in a closet. The twisted nature of the beginning of your relationship was not only complex, but sinful. You learned to love Jake’s body before his soul, and a part of you felt wrong for doing so. It wasn’t a purity thing, but a personal moral obligation that you had thrown out the window. Guilt was the first emotion you felt with Jake after lust, and you had doubts that a relationship could work with a foundation so rotten.

At the same time, Jake loved you so differently than anyone ever had. So profound and beautiful, without any worry for anyone else. He chose to love you while knowing he was at the greatest risk for loss, and was happy just to have the chance. He was quiet, thoughtful and impactful with every move he made. You felt horrible for feeling doubt about him.

You were at a loss, and it seemed as though your tirade for justice was long overdue for its demise. The longer you continued on the path, the harder the choice became.

“What are we doing, Sam?” You asked, your grip on his hand going lax. The pain in your voice was so heavy that it was weighing him down, too.

“What do you mean?” He asked, but he didn’t have to.

“This isn’t how it should be.” You felt your lip quiver. “I don’t know how to stop whatever we’re doing.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, fearful that your answer would be far too hard for him to hear.

“No,” your voice cracked, the small sound deafening in the otherwise silent air. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to know.”

“We can stop,” he offered “back off for a little while, give you some space.” As the words left his mouth, you both knew that was the most gut-wrenching idea of all.

“No,” you shook your head.

“You’ll know when you know, baby.” He said, reaching up to bring your chin between his fingers. He raised your head so you would meet his eyes. “I just know that I’m going to enjoy you for as long as I possibly can.” He smiled. You reached over, cupping his cheek in your hand, and pulled him into a kiss. It was heated, the emotion from the night intense and the feeling of each other was overwhelming. You hand fell to his shoulder, grabbing the fabric of his jacket to pull him closer to you.

Although it may not have been right, you opted to enjoy him for the time being, too. Of all the lessons you had learned in your time spent with the two boys, the biggest was how to live in the moment, rather than your fear. You used your other hand to search for the buckle of the seatbelt, popping it off so you could move closer to him. “Come here,” he mumbled against your lips, unbuckling his belt, too. He parted from you for a moment to reach down and adjust his seat as far back as it could go. He lowered the top half just a little bit, and reached over to you. With his hands on your hips, he aided you in climbing over the middle console and into his lap. You settled your legs on either side of him, looking down at him in all of his beauty. He was rested against the seat, hands decorating your hips. “Kiss me.” He grinned, the demand light. “Please.”

You leaned down, capturing him in an obscene display of desperation. One hand was holding his face while the other was anchored on his shoulder, keeping you upright. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him, the heat of the moment getting the best of you. Something about the raw emotion of the night had turned you primal in an instant. You were uncaring of any consequence, and no longer felt sad about your past life, because the one you were living now allowed you to exist in the same place as Sam, your lives intertwined in the most beautiful way, even if it was painful by times.

He let out a groan produced from somewhere deep in his chest. His fingers burned into you, pulling you into the void of temptation even further. When you drew back, his eyes were half-lidded with lust and his face was hiding no emotion. “Here?” He asked, but his tone was not condescending; he was curious at the thought, excited even.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I just want you, Sammy. I need you.” You breathed, desperation evident in your eyes. The statement was heavy, one that he couldn’t resist. To hear you say such sweet words was almost too much for him to handle. He knew he could live off the sound of your voice forever, especially when you professed such a desire for him. It satisfied every need and quickly became one of its own, and from the first time he heard you sing his name, he knew it would always be the most dire of them all.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes fluttering closed as his head fell back on the seat. “I can never say no to you, Princess.” He muttered, snaking his hands to your thigh and slipping them under the skirt of your dress. You lifted your hips, allowing him to bunch the fabric around your waist. “Especially when you say it like that.”

You continued foolishly, as if you still believed you had full control of your heart and mind, like loving Sam was a conscious choice, rather than a crucial part of survival. The fact that you had let him in, given him access to the history you solely held for so long, given him a power so great and bridged the gap of trust so easily was not something you took lightly. In fact, it was something you had ever done with another. He could see through you, straight into your soul and down to the very things that made you, you. You had done it with no fear, and without the hesitancy you felt with his brother. It was a major stepping stone in the process of love and healing, and you had given him a key that allowed access straight to the source. Even though you despised the thought of someone knowing such things about you, you wanted Sam to know it. You wanted him to know everything, and that was the hardest pill to swallow. You loved him enough to let him see all of you, all of parts infinitely more intimate than anything that could happen in the bedroom, and you solidified the bond further by sealing it with the connection of sex. In a single night, he had experienced more of you than anyone in the entire world had in your whole life.

You were still fearful of commitment, but the storm of love was getting closer, and you feared that you would get stuck, that you would drift away and die within it. Love had never been so easy until Sam and Jake appeared, and it you were certain that it would never be that easy to fall for anyone else, ever again. You were estranged from your former self, in many more ways than one. As Sam pulled the top of your dress down, you barely recognized the woman you had become. When he unbuckled his belt and freed himself from the constricting denim, you didn’t really care who you were anymore; being touched by Sam was so euphoric that it completely filled the void of your lost sense of self.

His thumb brushed over your hardened nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through you. The windows were already fogged with the telltale signs of sin, the desperation so loud that it was barely contained within the vehicle. He pulled your underwear to the side, both of you too eager to wait any longer, then used one hand to guide you down on him. You both let out a sigh of relief at the feeling. He brought his other hand to the back of your neck, bringing you down to meet his mouth. The kiss motivated you to move, rolling your hips as best you could in the limited space. He used his hand to heighten the force in which you were moving, causing you to let out a gasp against his lips. The position was awkward, everything but private, and very adolescent for two grown adults, but it was perfect; heavenly, even. Any interaction with Sam was phenomenal, no matter how minuscule. You wanted to live in the feeling of him forever.

A flash of headlights on the street behind you caused you to break from the kiss, looking out the back window with a fear that it was someone else driving into the driveway. As soon as the disturbance appeared, the car passed and the headlights fizzled away into the night again in an instant. Even so, you became hyper aware of the vulgar display the two of you had found yourselves in, how easy it would be to be seen, even in the darkness of the evening. “What if we get caught?” Even in your apprehension, you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hips continued on, your skin prickled with goosebumps at the pleasure coursing through your body. Getting caught was a risk you were willing to take for feeling so good.

“Then you put on a good show for them, baby.” He muttered, too lost within you to care. You let out a groan, his words serving no comfort but settling in the pit of your stomach like lead. You sat up a little further, allowing him the full view of your body. He drank up every detail with no drop to spare. Every time he was lucky enough to see you in such a state, he had to bargain with himself to believe it was true; he thought you were so fantastic that sometimes he struggled with the idea that such a perfect person could exist outside of a dream. You let your head fall back, vulgar noises falling from your lips and filling the heavy air within the vehicle. “That’s it, just like that baby.” He cursed under his breath as he finished his praise, near an orgasm just from the sound of you alone.

“Fuck, Sam.” You hissed, placing a palm to his shoulder to keep yourself steady. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” He crooned, reaching his hand between your legs. You leaned back a bit further, allowing him easier access to you. His fingers found your clit, circling slowly in attempt to continue driving you to insanity. He was devilishly good at the craft; you felt like you hadn’t had one sane thought since the minute you laid eyes on him. “Tell me how good it feels, Princess. I want to hear all of those filthy fucking noises.” He growled, the words lingering in the air like an obscene decoration. You weren’t shy in giving him what he wanted; it wasn’t like he had to do much to make you oblige, anyway. The thought of denying Sam of any wish was painful in itself.

You let out a slur of curses, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation for an orgasm. Your muscles were tense, the pressure in your belly was almost unbearable before he added his fingers to you, and now you were manic for a release. “You fill me up s’good, baby. Never want to stop.” You whined, fingers gripping him tighter as your heart pounded against your chest.

“Never?” He teased, pupils clouded with lust. He was greatly affected by your words, even more so by your state, but he wasn’t keen on letting you know that. In fact, he was embarrassed by times about how much of an impact you had on him. If only he knew how similarly you felt, his shame would be obsolete.

“Never,” you reiterated, your tone raw and filled with longing.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, the glimmer in his eye telling you all you needed to know about what he really wanted to say. “I wish I could keep you like this forever.” His words were uttered more to himself than you, but you heard them, and they settled deep in your bones with a fervent aggression. It was stronger than an admission of love, and it was his way of saying it without scaring you away. He thought if he could lessen the blow by coating it with sexual implication, he could get away with saying all of the sweet words he so badly wanted to share with you.

You caught his gaze, both of you caught in limbo with your own hearts, unsure of where to go from there. Your hips were moving, both of your chests heaving for breath, but in that moment, you were locked in a comatose state with your minds. The knowledge that stopping was the safest option, but realizing that without each other, you would fade into nothing. From day one, Sam gave you a spark of life you had been chasing since you learned how to stand on two feet. In him, you saw a life full of laughter, one where you could fall hard but know there was a soft cushion below to protect. He was home, and every aspect of him had been more welcoming than anything you had felt before. Your fears were next to nothing when you imagined him beside you for the rest of your life, because you would be so full of love that there would be no room for pain.

It was there, dancing on the tip of your tongue. The word was knotted around his throat, searing into the skin in black charred letters. It was thick in the air, present in every exhale and filling your lungs when you inhaled. It was written in the fog on the windows, and all but stamped across your chests in bold red. The world was screaming at you to say it, to break through the walls and grow up, admit to what you both feared the most. You were both irrevocably in love with each other, just like you had been before your skin ever had the chance to touch. You worshipped the ground Sam walked on, just the same as you did for the entire time you had known him.

Even with your distorted and misguided views of love, you knew that you felt it for him, in any and every way you knew how to do it. You were playing with fire, your skin long burnt into ash before the earth shattering reality hit you. There was no lesson to teach that would be greater than the hurt of your own once the flames burnt out. You were your own martyr, sacrificing yourself for a purpose that had always been far beyond your control. Instead of teaching, you were killing not only yourself, but whoever dared to follow in the path you were taking.

You could blame your parents for the hurt, or anyone who ever spoke an ill word about you, or even the ones who looked at you with any contempt at all. You could point fingers, scream until your throat was raw and there was no more words to utter, blame until your foot was in the grave; in your years leading up to that moment, that’s exactly what you had done. Now, the finger could only be pointed at the mirror, and you would be choking while you were cursing your own name. You were about to face the biggest hurt you had ever experienced, and it was nobody’s fault but your own.

But your hips moved, and your eyes locked on him as if he were prey below you. You did not stop, not even while knowing that you were sucking the life from him as you did so. Not even after realizing that you could never recover from the love of a single Kiszka, let alone two of them. This was a match that not even the Devil could take credit for, because it was for more sinister than anything that his hands touched. Sadism accusations and hellish rhetoric had come to an end, because the devil horns did not belong on Jakes head, nor his brothers. It was you who took the crown, and the pillar of innocence was destroyed. If you were half the person you wished to be, you would walk away and never look back.

But your hips continued, and Sam’s fingers danced over your clit, steady in their movement and cemented by reality. He could not stop even if he wanted to, and neither could you. You were too far gone for salvation, and it did not matter who the villain was; evil resided within all three of you, and victim, too.

“Sam, I’m gonna cum.” You moaned, eyes still locked with his.

“Please, baby.” He pleaded, needing it as if it were an antidote to the poison you had been injecting directly in his veins. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak again, but lost himself in the wave of euphoria that was crashing over him. The orgasm was creeping on you both, but it was nowhere near as powerful as the raw connection between the two of you. He felt like you were staring into his soul as you looked down at him, like you could read the thoughts that would explain exactly how much he felt for you. In a way, you could, but so could he. You were both caught in the twisted game of loving selflessly, but selfishly all at once. “That’s it, sweet girl.” He hummed, watching your face contort into a show of pleasure.

He felt you tense around him, and he pulled you down into a kiss. The climax struck you stronger than you could withstand. You were rigid, but exhausted just from the energy it took to keep yourself upright. Every curse and moan slipped into his mouth, his face only millimetres away from yours. As much as he loved to see you in such a mess for him, it was a million times better to feel it, and that’s exactly what he did. As you descended from the depths of your orgasm, he reached his own. His fingers branded your skin with the intensity of his grip as he spilled his release into you, and he let out his own jumble of curses. When the storm passed, you both let out a sigh of relief, but the moment still weighed heavily on you both.

The windows were clouded with fog, both of you sweaty and in disarray. Every surface of the vehicle was covered in smoke from the fire that was still burning within you both, seeping into the cracks to bury the memory within the material forever. Your noses were touching, foreheads rested together as neither of you had the energy to pull away. It wasn’t like you had the power to part, anyway. Whatever earthly forces that drew you to him were stronger than they had ever been, and you wanted to exist within his hold for eternity. There was not a coherent thought that existed within either of your brains, and you were trying not to succumb to the sleepiness that was calling your name. You were exhausted from the emotions of the night and the intensity of the connection you were feeling with him.

Wordlessly, he helped you off of him and moved your underwear back into place. You were both ready for the comfort of a mattress, and the serenity of each others arms. As you walked to the front door together, hand in hand, you wondered if the game of cat and mouse would ever come to an end. You looked up at him, his face illuminated by the dim porch light, and you wished you could tell him exactly how you felt. You prayed for a moment of clarity so you could push past the cloud of terror and accept vulnerability, just for long enough to say that you cared so much for him. It would be a waste of a lifetime if you walked away from him without him ever knowing how important he was.

It seemed like it was written in the stars for you to follow blindly after Sam, believing he had the power, while he followed after you for the same reason. You were destined to run in circles until you collapsed under your own weight, never discovering the truth because you were both too afraid to ask. Falling in love with Sam was easy, but loving him was nowhere near as simple as you previously thought it to be. Every time you thought a decision was creeping into fruition, you realized you were just stuck on a stone with a mountain yet to come.

Follow those who pale in your shadow

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr

[solivagantingrebel]

Fanfic writer questions!

How many works do you have on ao3?

8! But if we count my other account that I abandoned, 10.

What's your total ao3 word count?

So far, roughly 142k words.

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly just COD fandom (exclusively Ghostsoap!)

Top five fics by kudos:

Leaving Your Heart On Fire - omegaverse smut amirite? (first attempt at smut fic too, which is, something!)

carry me in your teeth (with tender jaws of sympathy) - seal!soap x orca!ghost with hurt/comfort, biting and other shenanigans. honestly, i never thought people would like it that much since i hallucinated the plot & the first chapter within a day lmaoo.

Only Yours - another omegaverse smut! second one in the series, but whatever. wall sex galore tho <33

Sweetest Gift - lingerie & shibari & bdsm. need i say more

With The Softness Of Your Breath - what if hallmark movies were good, and ghoap? ALSO childhood friends and retired au + all the christmas goodness. this one is very deserved and i will literally kiss everyone who read this on the mouth for giving it a chance even tho i know first person pov isn't favoured in fandom spaces. i poured my heart into it, ty <3

Do you respond to comments?

I try my best to! Miss some sometimes because i'm too busy giggling and kicking my feet over the sheer amount of elation i feel whenever i get the notification.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Happy ending kind of guy, so none. Unless you count the letter. MCD 😔

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

CHRISTMAS FIC,, but all of them are going to be happy ending so we'll see!! my current longfics will take the rest of the year, or more, to end though, so who knows.

Do you get hate on fics?

No? But I did get a comment about how first person pov was something that a reader hated and they were looking forward to reading the fic with the tags & summary. Oh well, their loss.

Do you write smut?

ABSOLUTELY,,, i adore writing smut. right after fluff and angst, i have to say.

Craziest crossover:

None yet :(

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I wouldn't mind it though.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but Alex. i am looking at you with the softest, darkest brown eyes ever.

All time favourite ship?

GHOSTSOAP. but also capitaru and cami. if you know you know. i don't mind ghoap x reader too, but i swear they NEED to be fucking each other as well, no ghoap 'thinking' of each other as friends and nothing more. all of us are in love and fucking and that is final, or there is nothing.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Beyond Life and Death,,, im so sorry my first attempt at a longfic but i really overestimated everything before i started writing it. Still hold it in my heart, since it was how I taught myself to write fanfics in general but it's a mess, honestly.

What are your writing strengths?

I. have no idea. I've been told I'm good at setting scene (emotional, erotic, angsty) so maybe that? Words also fly out of my mind at the speed of light whenever I am deeply dissecting a character's inner monologue, feelings and thought process AND ALSO TRAUMA, so that too.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would say action if it were me from the past,, but I've gotten better at it. So, for now, plot, but I'm working on it!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

HELL YEAH!!

First fandom you wrote in?

......JJK. You will not find that fic though.

Favourite fic you've written?

All of them are my babies don't make me choose 😭

I have no idea who has done this tag game and who hasn't. it was trending like months ago, so open tag for now! do feel free to yap about your fics and tag me if you, i'd love to know <3 (get some recs meself) ill tag a few but feel free to ignore me if youve already done it lmao @eiraeths @myriadblvck

[velvetnviolentviolets]

Get To Know The Author

name : Kay

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : Honestly I have a huge preference for discord. I don't trust tumblr IM to actually alert me. Ive recently learned tumblr has been eating my asks too. If I don't reply to an ask or DM me PLEAS reach out to me. I will NEVE outright ignore something. If I don't think something is going to work for our muses I will reach out to you. 

most active muse :  Kat is my loudest and most demanding. After that would be Her brother Kass, Feyre, and then our spotty maybe I'm here maybe I'm not - Emmett.  

experience / how many years : Ohhh boy. I've been doing the rp thing off and on since 2010. There was a five year chunk in recent years where I disappeared for a bit but the lovely @sharpayevcns pulled me back in a few months ago and I am so appreciative that she did. <3 

best experience : Discovering the people here that make me feel safe enough to obsess over threads. You guys have absolutely made my return to tumblr. If I were to delete my blog with nothing but my connection with you guys to show for it - Well I would be absolutely fine with that. You guys are amazing and will absolutely be tagged in this. 

rp pet peeves : I keep running into situations where I get heavily invested in plotting something (Drawing, writing head cannons, making playlists, planning cannon events. . .I literrally brushed up on a whole ass language for a plot) Only to have those people completely leave me on read. I am not a pushy partner in the least. I would be more than happy to wait a month for a reply. But I need communication. I need feedback if something doesn't sit right for you. I need reciprocated enthusiasm. You don't have to show It the same way I do but I need some show of enthusiasm otherwise it just feels uncomfortable and I feel annoying and restrained. That's not what I'm here for. I've honestly made the decision to start unfollowing people based on a three strikes basis. No hard feelings. I just don't want to follow anyone who doesn't bring the same energy I do. 

fluff, angst, or smut :ALL OF IT! While I'm becoming more and more selective about who I write smut with I LOVE writing smut ESPECIALLY if its born of post Angst fluff. Actually almost exclusively. There is nothing that gets my muses motor going like post Angst Fluff! 

plots or memes : Augh! Don't make me pick. I love Plotting but sometimes nothing really gets the juices flowing like memes do. I cant tell you how many times a simple meme interaction help set a pivotal point in a plot. ALSO- Memes are usually what help me forego my shy nature. While my muse outwardly gives NONE of the Ducks. . .I do . I give all of the Ducks so memes help  me loosen up. I'm not responsible for the haphazard neuroSpicy creature you meet once the shyness has fallen away. You've been warned.

long or short replies : It depends on my mood and attention span. There is a Adderall shortage right now so I have only been taking my Adderall on work days so Ive had a VERY hard time focusing o replies as of late. When Im on top of my Game I am LONGWINDED AF .Please don't ever feel like you have to match me because there are times where I will write you a novel and we were only supposed to be writing a sentence or two. It just happens and Im sorry.  time to write : Ha! um . . . Well I work Graveyard  Thursday- Saturday from 8PM-9:30ish AM (PST)  On slow nights I do write here and there but for the most part I can be found here pretty sporadically. If I have something going on during my weekend that I have to be a daytime person for then ill be up during the day time. OTHERWISE- Mostly evening and spooky hours . 

are you like your muses : I could draw some parallels with each of them but I dont think I am like any of them. 

tagged by: The Alluring  @wynterlanding ~<3

@grimmusings @sharpayevcns @godccmplex <3

[lunaroleplays]

Roleplay Information

Hello, I'm Luna! I've been roleplaying for roughly 7 years now. If you're interested in roleplaying with me, feel free to read my rules and pm me! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Literacy

I'm a literate roleplayer; however, it's easy for me to adapt to my partner's roleplay style and keep my replies short if I want to. So even though I mostly do literate roleplays, I really enjoy semi-literate ones as well!

The Rules

Strictly no NSFW themes! (aka. no smut or anything of the sort; though blood and gore are fine)

Alternative Universes are more than welcome! (fantasy AUs have a special place in my heart)

When it comes to pairings, I'm fine with bxg, bxb & gxg ships.

I'm currently trying to focus on canon characters, so sorry, I won't be accepting roleplays with OCs for now!

Please be patient; sometimes it might take a while for me to reply! Maybe even a whole day or two, when real life just takes up too much of my free time. Don't spam me.

I like discussing the plot before RPs, even if only to get a rough idea of where the story is going, so please be willing to do that.

Please don't make the roleplay all about your character and don't control my character.

Do not expect me to muse every other character except for the one you muse please, and don't even try asking me to rp as 10 characters while you only muse 3.

I can't believe I even have to write this, but I won't be roleplaying any problematic or questionable ships (aka. those including abuse, p*dophilia, inc*st, you got the point).

Characters feeling low at certain times and there being drama in the story is totally fine, but please, if your character has any form of mental illness in the rp, let me know. Heavy topics such as depression and anxiety can take a toll on me and I'm personally not comfortable with them dominating the roleplay.

Some people forget how important it is, but make sure to use ooc marks (such as (( )), ( ), / or //) when talking out of the rp!

Fandoms

Anime/Manga: (the fandoms in bold are the ones I'm mainly interested in atm!)

Haikyuu!!

Banana Fish

Bungou Stray Dogs

Spy x Family

Violet Evergarden

Studio Ghibli Films (whisper of the heart, ponyo, kiki's delivery service, howl's moving castle, spirited away, the wind rises, princess mononoke)

Run With the Wind

One Piece

The Promised Neverland (just the manga)

Boku no Hero Academia

Movies/TV shows:

Marvel

Harry Potter

Miraculous Ladybug

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

The Queen's Gambit

[sabraeal]

2020 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza

Boy howdy, but it has been a year. So much so that I felt the need to dig up this meme so I can lavish myself with a little TLC, ‘cause you know what? I deserve it! And so do you. This year has been tough, and even in the best of times it can be a real struggle to remember that, instead of being your own worst enemy, you should strive to be your best cheerleader. Remember to be kind instead of cruel, to forgive rather than condemn yourself. Creativity is hard, and it is always a journey, never a final destination, so let’s take a moment and sight-see where we’ve been this year, yeah???

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

I was tagged by @bubblesthemonsterartist!

1.) With Ribs Laid Open - As many of you know, way, WAY back in 2018, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child, I hit 500 followers and decided to make a raffle for requesting fics which were supposed to be posted during my February-May hiatus after giving birth. This was a great idea pretty much right up until after the raffle winners was announced, since only a week or two later, my grandfather got massively ill, I got EVEN MORE heavily pregnant, and the great complex of shitty 2019/2020 occurred. I’d managed to finish Tender Concessions right at the turn of the new year due to Winter Challenge, which handled two of the promised fics, and this one ended up being the very first raffle fic I promised without a challenge helping me along. I’d been working on it off and on since the request was made, never quite getting it to sit right up until I started working on it at the end of 2019. It was not only a great personal accomplishment, but the daemon AU is really one of my favorite ones I’ve done, and getting to write Obi and Od Ana’s backstory was something I’d been dying to do since I posted Creatures of a Brief Season.

2) Sic Semper Monstrum - I started this fic in 2018, and it’d actually been an idea I’d had way back in 2016 when I first watched Pac Rim. It’s an AU I’ve always really enjoyed, and I really love how it’s turned into this ensemble piece, rather than strictly a ship fic (and I’m sure anyone who has read Seven Suitors knows how much I really love getting to do ensemble elements). But this year it had sort of an added meaning to me-- I’d promised vfordii I’d write this fic for her birthday at the end of December, but December is my MOST PACKED month, so she’s used to getting her present late...and then it got later. And later. And suddenly I was in the hospital because OH YEAH, I’d just been actively dying for about a year. It was actually when I was in the hospital recuperating that I realized my issue with the chapter I was working on-- I’d been trying to make it Zen POV, when it was very, very obviously meant to be Kiki’s. And when I got out, this ended up being the first fic I posted post-recovery. And then I added another chapter to it only a few weeks later! And it’ll be one of the first fics posted in 2021 (sorry, v). So this one really holds a big place in my heart right now, if only because it really came with me on my whole medical journey.

3) Seven Swipes for Shirayuki - As I’m sure plenty of you are aware, Seven Suitors was the fic I was known for for about...forever. It’s actually only within the last year or two that people have read something else of mine first, and the sequel tends to be the first thing most people ask about. But it was also my first posted fic EVER, and the first long form story I’ve completed in years, and so it holds a very special place in my heart. So trying to tell the modern version of it was utterly nerve-wracking. After all, a lot of Zen’s shenanigans wear a lot better on a prince than an American billionaire. It’s been slow to start, but I have to say...I’ve impressed myself with how the adaptation is going. I have a LOT of funs plan for it, but the biggest hump was really getting through the break up scene since it was always going to be...intense. And then I did it, in a way I really liked! And going forward, I’ll get to do a lot more tinder shenanigans, and a lot less heartbreak (mostly >:3c).

4) The Daisy Chain - I have...an embarrassing amount of fics that are sitting, untouched, with only one chapter left to go. Or at least, I pretend they do. But it was ACTUALLY true for Daisy Chain, so getting the opportunity to wrap up one fic I’d been working on since 2017 was...amazing. It was a lot of blood sweat and tears to get this finished, but I’m so happy to have completed something I started so long ago.

5) The Lone Wolf Survives - This is the fic I did not want to write. I’m not a fan of A/B/O; in fact I’m generally annoyed by it because it uses WRONG WOLF DYNAMICS and like, BAD SCIENCE, and though when it’s done good it’s GREAT, it’s usually done terrible and UGHHHH. So when I realized I needed to do it for bingo I...complained. A lot. The most. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. But I eventually settled on the plot of this fic, letting it be canon-but-not, and it just...worked. And I’m ultimately proud that I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and now may torture you with the smut that has not yet happened, ah ha ha ha >:3c

For tagging, I choose... @claudeng80, @infinitelystrangemachinex, @aeroplaneblues, and @k-itsmaywriting

[sweetwritertanya]

Noble Heart

Author’s Note: Hello my darlings! So, after watching Little Women (the new 2019 adaptation, which I’ve been meaning to see for ages), I was more than a little inspired to write something. Although I’m not really well-versed in how things were at such a time and the costums, I am growing an interest for historical or period dramas. Hence, here’s my first attempt at writing something like this. It will be a 3 or 5 parts series with original characters. Also, I will still be using the second person narrative (“you”), but the reader will have a name. Hope you all don’t mind and tell me if you enjoy the story! Not the most creative, but I’ve been having fun writing it.

Summary: Your family has struggled to make ends meet and it was only due to the county’s Duke kindness that you were able to get by. When the old man suddenly passes away, it surprises you to know the title will pass on to his never-seen-before grandson. However, there is a strange condition for the inheritance of the title.

Warning: None. This is mostly exposition and character introduction, the start of the plot. I’m thinking only later parts will have a bit of smut, but those will be tagged later on!

Word Count: 2182

It was a cold summer morning when the news erupted across the county. The Duke of Welsham was struck with sudden illness and had perished overnight. The news of the death of the old widower wouldn’t have been so worrisome if not for the fact that he was the main provider of the town’s wealth, contributing with a lot of his expansive estate to finance growing businesses as well as maintain a controlled tax limit for the land owners and workers.

You read about it in the town’s newspaper, during your daily chore of getting the groceries for your family’s household. The maid accompanying you seemed about as panicked as you felt, as much as you tried not to show it. With a serious expression, frowned eyebrows wrinkling together at the top of the bridge of your nose, you walk back with a fervor in your step.

“Mother, Father, have you heard yet?” You call out as soon as you enter the two-story house, only stopping to take off your hat and continuing deeper into the house with the basket full of provisions against your plush hip. “Does this concern us, Father? The newspaper said the Duke has fall-”

Entering the living room situated before the kitchen, you came to a halt in your speech and step when you noticed everyone in your family sitting tensely around the unlit fireplace. They each raised their eyes at your entrance, apprehension and defeat behind them. You give the basket to the maid and move to sit on the vacant armchair with them, a nervous heart and pressing lips.

“What is it?” you ask in a whisper, knowing full well something must have happened or was about to happen.

“I see you already heard the news, dear” your father’s somber tone of voice declares soundly in the silent room.

“Yes, Father. I fear how it could affect us; we are barely getting by. The Duke’s kind heart was what kept us well fed for so long, Father. What will happen now? Who will carry on the title?” The mention of a successor makes your Mother breath in a heavy breath, your younger sisters looking nervously to the ground, the twitch on your Father’s left cheek. “Are we really in danger? Do you believe they will cut our supplies, let us starve?”

“I believe you do know of the Duke’s only son, don’t you?” Your mother asks of you.

“The one he disowned? It’s been over thirty years since anyone saw him.” You vaguely recalled hearing about it.

“He disowned his son, but not his grandson, sir Augustus. Apparently, he will be the new Duke of Welsham.” As your Mother told you this, with an angry stare away from you, directed at the window, something confused you.

“Mother… How do you know all this? No one in town seemed to have the slightest idea, it’s not even in the newspaper…”

You gulped at the silent stares they cast upon you.

Bad news. It meant really bad news, for you specifically. Which was why you were currently struggling against a corset that the maids were tightening up against your ribs, so much so you could barely breath. The fact that you were boiling furious didn’t help the matter at all either. Your voluptuous frame was being tucked in to the best the garment could, due to the demands of your mother, even if you couldn’t care less about hiding your lumps and rolls.

“Why? Why?! Why the bloody hell do I have to marry the new Duke?! I am not nobility!!” you scream out, holding on to the bed’s footboard as the strings of the corset kept being pulled.

“Your family’s last name carries nobility and therefore, so do you, my lady” the maid struggled to say as she kept tightening the abdominal article around your round frame.

“Why did the old man have to put in such a bizarre condition for his grandson to inherit the title?! And why did it have to be from our family??” you grunt back.

Corset done, the maid helps you slip into the silk dark green dress your mother had prepared for you, the best and most expensive article of clothing you owned.

“From what I heard, the late Duke resented his son for marrying out of nobility and wished for his grandson to do better. And your family, my lady, is the only one in town with nobility in their blood.”

“We are not nobility! My grandfather was an Earl, that’s all! My poor Father couldn’t work anymore because of his injuries, so he refused the title long before I was born!”

“I’m sorry, my lady. The grandson doesn’t seem to think so.”

The idea of marrying a complete stranger repulsed you to no end. The possibility of you escaping with the rest of your family was not completely out of question yet. You were almost certain you could talk your Mother into it. Your Father would be more difficult, he was loyal to the town and did not like any hint of cowardice when it came to our family’s actions. And there was no telling how such expenses could be paid… But surely, to prevent his older daughter to basically be sold out to a man she never met before with the sole purpose of obtaining a higher title, he would make an exception.

“Adela!” your Mother’s exasperated tone brought you back to reality just in time.

Absentminded, you had made it downstairs and were now standing in the living room among your family. Everyone was in their best clothes and composed hairdos. Your Mother twitched her head to the side, signaling for the strange men on the other side of the room.

Two males stood the few feet the room allowed in front of you. One was a person you recognized as a servant of the late Duke, a tall man in his forties or fifties, with a small dark mustache and side burns, skin wrinkling at the side of his grey eyes. You seemed to recall seeing him during the very few times you had gone into the Duke’s property, mainly for the annual party he hosted.

The other man stood tall in the room. With dark chocolate curls slicked back, his oblong face kept a neutral expression as he looked almost right through you with hooded honey colored eyes. A narrowed turned up nose, prominent cheeks, a slightly oversized bottom lip, tan healthy skin and fit body with two small beauty marks under his left eye, there was no denying the man was to be considered attractive. His demeanor, however, left a lot to polish.

“Adela! Courtesy!” you Mother angrily whispered under her breath next to you, one hand coming around to pinch you, but the layers of clothing making you unable to feel it.

Having the town’s next Duke standing in the same room as you, your entire family depending on you, made all of it so real. Your deep scorching anger suddenly turned into paralyzing fear at what was about to happen. Your eyes moved from your mother to the man in question and you saw this as your last opportunity before news spread around.

“My apologies, your Grace, but you must find another suiter for your marriage. I do not agree with any of this” you state as you finish the asked for bow.

Ignoring the interjections and exclamations from your family and the maids, you gather most of the dress you can in your hands and quickly step away into the house’s backyard, searching for some piece and quiet to calm your racing heart and jumbled mind.

You felt like your throat was constricted, making it so hard to breathe. Unable to stand it anymore, you do your best to undo the strings at your back, shaky hands raging against the corset as you take it out and start to pull your dress back up. You took several deep breaths once the awful garment was out, starting to feel better.

“Lady Adela.”

Gasping loudly, you suddenly turn around 180 degrees and come face to face with the cause of your anxiety. He now seemed to look at you properly, rather than just through you like before.

“Your Grace” you sigh as you try to remain calm.

“I believe the reasons surrounding this matrimony were explained to you, yes?” He inquires as he looks around the small backyard, where your family had a few plantations growing, with the intent of saving the cost of buying food you could grow yourself.

“They were, yes. But I must persist, I have no intention of marrying you, your Grace.” In hopes your family could find forgiveness despite your absolute refusal, you tried to maintain a civil relationship with the men. Maybe he had inherited his grandfather’s kind heart.

“I believe that would mean very bad news for your family, my lady. If I was correctly informed, your father is unable to work and he only had daughters.” Your hopes crashed to the ground at his cold words. But your fury burned.

“I will work myself, if I have to” you adamantly told him.

The man smirks as he returns his gaze to your stout person.

“Would you rather work, than become a Duchess?”

“If I must marry someone I don’t know and don’t love, then yes.” You fold your arms under your chest determinedly, frowning heavily at him.

You notice how his eyes squint just a bit at that and he returns his gaze to the horizon to your right, lips pressed together as you both stay silent for a moment. Cold wind blows and serves to cool down your anger for now. But not for long, not when the man decided to open his mouth again, not even caring to look at you as he does so.

“You must be a pretty selfish daughter and sister, putting your own happiness before that of your family members.”

“Sir, you do not know me at all to speak such a thing!” you bark at him with tight closed fists dropping to your sides.

“Prove me wrong, then. Marry me, if just on paper, and I will take the most upper care of you and your family.” He rotated his body back to you and his honey eyes are filled with challenge, as if daring you to deny him again.

“You must be pretty desperate for your grandfather’s title if you’re willing to marry a woman that not only have you never met, but who is also undeniably unwilling to wed you.” You reciprocate the feeling he had casted on you.

“I never stated otherwise.” He simply declares, seemingly not at the least offended.

Annoyed, you huff and cross your arms again, turning your back on him and stepping heavily around the floor.

“Why? Why me? Just go and marry a noble woman from the next town over! Why do you persist on marrying me?”

“It is the most advantageable marriage. Marrying someone of the town will give me the people’s favor and respect. I hear your family is all well liked around here.”

“I despise anyone who treats marriage as a business transaction, talking of advantages and disadvantages like you were only discussing a piece of land” you whisper tiredly, taking your hands to massage your temples as you felt a headache approaching. You wondered why you were still carrying on this conversation. All you wanted was to turn around, get back inside and close yourself in your room until it all went away.

“Most marriages are, indeed. Do you feel it would be different if you were to marry someone else? Would you feel better if you had known me for years, even if the marital contract is, in itself, exactly the same?”

“At least I would have known who I was swearing to spend the rest of my life with. There would be a courtship, there would be feelings involved.” You explain to the air, refusing to look at such a stubborn and insufferable men.

“Who says there won’t be in this case?”

You halt your feet and slowly turn back, suspicion behind your eyes as you raise them to his. The man then moves his feet and in three strides he is right in front of you, only maybe a feet away, bending down to level his stare with yours, even as you lean back, away from him. He was still uncomfortably close and you could smell the eucalypti musky scent emanating from him.  

“The courtship, getting to know each other, feelings… We would only be switching the order, marrying first and doing those later. So, Lady Adela, in light of your hesitance, I will give you two more days to think about it. Do come and tell me of your decision before the end of the week. I shall be awaiting you, then.”

And with that, he straightens up, bows his head slightly as a goodbye gesture and leaves back into the house, leaving you muddled and stunned in your own backyard.

[dehydratedpool]

hi!! so i saw a couple other writers on here do this (the one i remember is @soldouthaz lol hi) and i thought it would be fun to do even tho i didn’t get tagged [aka, i do what i want >:)] ((also ps sorry this is late))

2020 was an incredibly rough year for me, which made writing/creating even harder. soooo here’s my self evaluation on the dreadful year lol;

1. number of stories posted in 2020: 5

2. total word count: 133,496 wOaH

3. list of works published:

hath made thee a sinner

there’s blood on my tongue

my beastly (currently on hold, going through a rewrite/re-plan lol)

i’m so tired

warm

4. work you are most proud of (and why):

i would have to say “hath made thee a sinner”. it took me FOREVER to write, mostly because 1) i wanted to get my own coming out story right, i wanted to share my experience in a way that also made it a good read, and 2) i was writing about three sensitive topics; Christianity, physical violence and coming out of the closet, and i wanted to be sure i didn’t get those things wrong. louis and harry’s coming out in the fic slightly relates to my own, but i wanted it to be relatable to others who’ve gone through the same thing. ((fun fact: the speech harry makes is 90% copied from my own coming out post on Facebook LMFAO))

5. work you are least proud of (and why):

it’s not that i hate “my beastly”, i just wish i started it’s execution better. it’s been an idea of mine for several years, one i started writing on wattpad and then abandoned for whatever reason. i have yet to complete it, and i wanna go back and re-write the entire thing, focus more on character development and world building (which i feel are lacking severely in my beastly). i also want to change the god-awful name that 15 year old me thought was a good idea.

6. a favorite excerpt of your writing:

i have a lot of favorites, but this snippet from “there’s blood on my tongue” was a fun little bit to write. it was kind of comic relief during an uncomfortable scene/chapter:

A loud bang on the door awakened Louis from his thoughts. He watched as Ralph walked over to the door, “Probably my Roger Taylor lookalike of a landlord demanding I pay rent a day early.”

When he opened the door, none other than Lindsey Allen barged through the barely filled apartment, her eyes red, “You!”

Louis swallowed, “Hi?”

“Don’t “hi” me, you little shit,” Lindsey growled, “How the fuck are you so relaxed, so calm right now?”

“How did you find my apartment?” Ralph questioned as Lindsey vibrated with anger.

7. share or describe a fave comment you received:

this comment from “there’s blood on my tongue” SENT ME. i don’t get comments often so when i do it’s always so exciting and i love reading and replying to everyone. honestly, every comment i get always warms my heart, they’re all my favorites, but this one definitely made my day when i saw it ♡

8. a time when writing was really, really hard:

tw // sexual assault, mental illness, PTSD

like i mentioned earlier, this year was a rough one. i got sexually assaulted on a tinder date in january 2020 (i was struggling with accepting that i’m a lesbian and decided to go out with a guy who i thought was nice), and in october 2020 i was coerced into sex with a guy who was trying to turn me straight. so ... those two things were like the cherry on top of an already shitty year.

after the january incident, i admitted myself into a psychiatric hospital after not having been back for 7 years. i was diagnosed with PTSD (along with my other issues i was already aware of lol) and it’s definitely caused a bump in my life.

to answer the question, writing the smut in “there’s blood on my tongue” and “i’m so tired” was incredibly difficult for me. i would get flashbacks while writing a scene, have panic attacks, and delete and rewrite in a vicious cycle until i wrote the bare minimum requirements of smut without hurting myself too badly, haha. i’ve never had an issue with writing smut until now, and i’ve been working on getting better at it and becoming comfortable with the idea of sex/smut again.

9. a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

i cant say that anything i wrote surprised me, and to be honest, i’m a little disappointed about that. i write what i’m comfortable with, what i know i’m good at, and i would like to explore different tropes and au’s this new year. i wanna get out of my comfort zone and take risks in my writing in 2021

10. how you grew as a writer:

i’ve definitely grown in how i write romantic relationships/smut. when i’m not writing fanfiction, i’m writing historical fiction that doesn’t involve romance. i’m not perfect at it yet, but i’m getting there !!

11. how do you hope to grow this year?

as mentioned in previous answers, i’d like to get more comfortable with writing smut. it’s not that i don’t want to write smut and i’m forcing myself to and thus causing unnecessary pain to myself; it’s as if doing so is helping me heal from my trauma— and it’s FUN to write !

12. who was your greatest positive influence as a writer?

i would have to say anyone who ever read and commented and gave kudos to any of my work ♡ comments and love keep me going and make me excited to share more with the fandom :D

13. did anything from real life show up in your writing?

absolutely! i think that tends to happen whether you intentionally mean to or not. “hath made thee a sinner” was my coming out story with a dash of fiction, i wrote the beginning scenes of “warm” (the descriptions of the night time) based on my time in NYC, and so many other tiny little things. it’s actually kind of fun to add those little easter eggs that no one but myself will get haha

14. any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

PLAN. YOUR. STORY. making plot points has helped me immensely as a writer. i used to free write everything but it made me overwhelmed after a while and i would abandon the wip. by planning out your story, it helps things go smoothly, and it’ll be easier to catch any plot holes you may have. it doesn’t have to be heavily detailed; in fact, i don’t like to add too much detail in mine since i usually think of little things to add as i’m writing ! whether you’re an experienced writer or new to it, planning things out is essential, in my opinion.

15. projects you’re looking for to this year:

i really really really wanna be apart of the BLFF this year! i cant think of other projects that happen throughout the year at the moment, but i wanna join as many as i can !!

————

thank you for reading this, this was a fun way to pass time at work lol. i’m supposed to tag other writers but idk if i really have any writer friends here so just do it if you wanna and tag me so i can read yours !! ♡

[ma-sulevin]

WHOA it’s here. It’s not finished because there are going to be like two more chapters, but GOOD NEWS that’s more smut for you. There’s also, like, actually a little plot this time.

Pairing: James Vega/Avery Ryder Rating: E Warnings: No warnings, just smut. Check out the tags on AO3. Word Count: 5969, chapter one of three.

Read it on AO3 instead, or catch up on their story from the beginning.

---

Avery’s halfway through her third reading of an article her doctor gave her about why the new synthetic DNA that had been found mixed with most humans after the end of the Reaper War had made the most popular contraceptive implants less effective when her omnitool chimes with James’ special chime. She jumps and drops the datapad. It clatters to the floor and Jonesy opens one eye to glare at her from where he’s napping on the other chair.

The orange interface pops up when she lifts her wrist to display James’ message: I found the perfect hotel for when you visit! Dec 30-Jan 5 still good??

Oh, James. She’s going to have to tell him before January. It's a few months away, but… she's going to have to tell him.

Another message comes through as she’s considering the first. I know you’ve been sick so thought I’d cheer you up. And then: Whatdid the doctor say?

She closes her omnitool without replying. She can’t talk to him right now. She can’t. She needs to talk this out before she brings him into it, needs to weigh her options and have… she needs help. She would have talked to her mom about all this, before, would have called her up when she first felt sick and gotten a ride to the doctor and then had someone to comfort her when she wanted to cry after.

Every unsafe encounter they had plays out behind her eyelids, in vivid detail: the broken condom, the drunken fuck behind Sam’s house, the sober but ill-advised condom-free sex the rest of the weekend before he shipped out.

One of those times did it.

They’re not goddamn teenagers. This was stupid, and they should have known better. There’s not any fucking excuse for this.

Her omnitool vibrates as James calls her, and she answers out of habit before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Hey, birdie!” His voice is optimistic, almost aggressively so, and she realizes he’s probably convinced she’s dying and doesn’t want to tell him. “You home yet?”

“Yeah, I’m home,” she says, and then… shit.

She chokes on a sob as her vision starts to swim, and she claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise that will out her reaction to James.

It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong?” His response is immediate, his voice low and comforting, and when she doesn’t respond right away she hears him shuffling around over the audio connection. He says something she can’t hear to someone she can’t see, then a door clicks closed and he’s speaking to her again, “Talk to me, Avery. What did the doctor say?”

She clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. “I, uh. I’m pregnant.”

His response is slower this time. It gives her enough time to take a few gasping breaths and for Jonesy to drag himself away from the sun and drape himself over her lap instead, a spot of comfort for the human who took him in after the reapers left.

“What?”

“Yeah, uh… I guess I’m due at the beginning of June.”

She can hear him sighing over the connection, a long exhale that makes her eyes well with more tears. She didn’t mean for this to happen, she thought she was preventing it, even if she wasn’t being as careful as she should have been.

“Birdie,” he says, still kind of sighing, “I thought you were going to tell me something awful.”

“I wouldn’t say this is great news.”

“But you’re okay, you’re not sick.” There’s more shuffling from his end of the line, more mysterious noises she can’t put a name to since he’s on the other side of the planet. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, miserable, voice on the edge of cracking again.

“It isn’t your fault—”

“It kinda is, though.” Avery’s not ready to let it go, but James doesn’t seem to be either.

“If anyone’s to blame,” he interrupts, voice a little louder to get her attention before it returns to the lower, more serious tone he’s been using, “it’s me. I wasn’t being careful, and I’m sorry.”

Avery groans and pulls Jonesy up to press her face into his fur. He chirps a little and lets her, starting to purr under her attention. “We can do this all day. I know, I know we said we’re going to try the whole long-distance boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but… this isn’t something we talked about, and I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want you to feel, like, trapped or anything.”

“We did talk about it.” James doesn’t quite cut her off again, but it’s a near thing, and her temper starts to spark and then fades right away at his words. “You told me you wanted a family, and I said we’d make beautiful babies, and then we started making out on your sink.”

“That’s not really, that’s not really talking about it,” she protests, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks at the memory. “Not, like, ‘what if this happens this weekend,’ talking about it, it was more like ‘generally in the future we have this in common.’ Right?”

“Sure, but…” He trails off, muffles a groan, starts again. “I told you before, I’m not Alec. You don’t have to doubt me. I know this is, uh, way sooner than we thought it would be, but if you’re in this, I’m in this. All the way.”

Avery starts crying again, quietly this time. She hadn’t really had enough time to think about how James would react, but this is more than she could have hoped for. He doesn’t even sound worried or scared or any of the other emotions that have been swirling around in her mind since she found out.

He just sounds… supportive.

Here for her.

No matter what.

“If you still can, I still want you to visit in January. I found a great little house on the beach, it’s new construction obviously, but it’s in the old style. You’ll love it.”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “January?”

“Yeah, birdie.” He sounds hopeful now, more relaxed, and she smiles despite herself. “It’ll be nice and hot, and I have a few days off between training. It’ll be perfect. Just the… just the three of us.”

She laughs, just a little, and James does too.

“Come on, we’re in this together, right? I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A pause, as she considers, tries to figure out how pregnant she’ll be in January, decides it’s probably okay. “I’ll come see you.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, can picture it so clearly in her mind. “I can’t wait.”

And, despite the tears still threatening to come back, she can’t either.

—-

James is fucking terrified. He’d never ever tell Avery that in a million years, absolutely unwilling to freak her out or make her worry for even a second that he’s going to leave her or treat their baby like Alec treated her, but he’s terrified about the future.

Sam gets an earful about it every time he comes up with a new concern, and she calms him down or calls him an idiot, depending on what the problem is, at least once a week. With her on his side, he’s able to listen to Avery’s worries and excitement (depending on where her mood has swung) and calm her down or gas her up, whatever she needs, whatever support he can offer her from the other side of the planet.

N-school is tough, and he’s exhausted so much of the time, and he misses her with every fiber of his being. He wants to be there with her right now, he wants to be home in her apartment, but every time he casually mentions putting off N-school for a year or two, she yells at him.

She’s not going to be the reason he puts off his dreams, even if his dreams are keeping them apart.

They’re starting a family at the worst possible time, and he can’t be with her, and he’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know it yet because he’s too much of a fucking coward to tell her.

He keeps trying, wants to tell her when they’re video chatting, staying up way too late to share their secrets; he wants to tell her every time she sends him an ultrasound, every time she sends him a picture of her belly as it grows (he still thinks it’s pretty small, even though she insists she already feels big), every time she sends him a dirty picture when he’s in class, and every time she smiles at him, flushed and happy, over a late-night vid call that ended in yet another round of phone sex.

He wants to tell her, but he’s a coward, and he’s afraid of her response, and anyway, shouldn’t that kind of confession be in person?

That’s what he’s been telling himself at least, and so he’s kept his mouth shut, and he’s fucking terrified because he’s going to be a dad and he’s in love with his girlfriend and he’s standing at the shuttleport with flowers clutched in sweaty hands because he wants to give her every good thing in the world.

He’s not prepared to see her being pushed in a wheelchair by a put-upon employee, looking absolutely murderous as she slouches with her shoulders up around her ears.

She catches his eyes and her face flashes as red as her hair, but she still points him out to the man pushing her. They change course and head straight for him, the employee looking at James with something like pity before he manages to smooth his expression back out into something politely neutral.

“What the — what happened?”

He looks from Avery to the man helping her and back, completely torn, flowers forgotten in his hands as he lowers them to his side.

Avery hauls in a deep breath. “You get a little motion sick—”

“She passed out, sir,” the man says, obviously done with Avery’s bullshit if the interruption and somewhat dead expression in his eyes is any indication. “It’s company policy to assist ill passengers to either medical help or to their destinations.”

“Okay, uhh, thank you.” James stares at him for another minute before moving a little closer and offering Avery his free hand. She takes it with a mutinous expression and stands up mostly under her own power, stumbling a little before she’s fully upright. She flushes red again, this time, he thinks, in embarrassment. “Do you have — oh, thanks.” 

The man hands James a duffle bag and takes the wheelchair with him as he leaves, and James stands staring at Avery for several seconds before he manages to find his words.

“You passed out?”

She shrugs and avoids his eyes. “Just a little.”

“Birdie—”

“I just get motion sick anyway and the baby makes it worse. I promise I’m okay. Hey.” She finally looks up and meets his eyes, reaches out and puts her hands on his waist. “I missed you.”

The little knot of terror and worry relaxes a little when he sees her smiling at him, a soft expression aimed at him, close enough to kiss… so he does, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in the softest kiss he can manage as she tries to push herself closer and hold him in place with her fingers tugging at his shirt.

He forces himself back up to his full height and smiles widely at the little pout she gives him.

“C’mon, let’s go to the house. Here.” He hands her the flowers he brought with him, excitement briefly overwhelming the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. She smiles and gives the bouquet a tentative sniff before inhaling again, more deeply.

He waits for her to pass judgment — on the flowers, on him, on the trip in general — and he’s still staring at her when she opens her eyes and offers him a wide, bright smile. She looks more like her old self, the one he remembers from London, color coming back into her cheeks and something playful in her expression.

“Get moving, soldier. We have a vacation to start.”

He grins down at her and slings her duffle over his shoulder before taking her hand. She lets him pull her outside to flag down a taxi, then she snuggles up against his side and slips her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m glad you could come.” He wraps his free arm around her shoulders and squeezes, and when she giggles, the noise is pressed against his ribs. He glances down and all he can see is one of her eyes as she peers up sideways at him.

“You’re going to be extra glad when you see what I brought.”

A taxi pulls up and the driver pops the trunk for her bag. James detangles himself from her, taking a second to enjoy the sight of her smirking at him with one hand resting on the bump that her shirt mostly hides.

“Oh? You bring something fun?”

She shrugs one shoulder and then somehow manages to look up at him from under her lashes without moving, and his heart does a funny little flip in his chest that has nothing to do with the promise written on her face and more to do with the confession he wants to make.

“A few things I think you’ll enjoy. You have to wait.”

He opens the door for her and snags a lingering kiss before she climbs in, swiping his tongue against her lower lip just to see the way it makes her eyes go dark and her lips part a bit.

Dios, she’s beautiful.

He loves her.

She climbs in the taxi with a wink, and he follows her without another word.

—-

He’s a little disappointed but not particularly surprised when she falls asleep on the way to their little rental house, her head tucked against his shoulder and her fingers tangled up in his like she never wants to let go.

She snores a little bit the whole way there, earning her several amused looks from the driver. James just keeps her hand tight in his and the warmth locked in his chest.

He can’t stop himself from smiling, though, not with her resting against him.

It almost makes him wish he hadn’t come to N-school at all.

She’s groggy when he wakes her up, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her mascara without noticing, and he ushers her into the rental without stopping to point out how close they are to the ocean, how private it is with the closely-growing foliage, or how he came out early and stocked the kitchen so they’d only have to go out in public if they want to. He just points her in the direction of the bed and takes off her shoes when she drops onto the blankets without undressing at all.

He putters around the house, looking for something to do to give her space. He puts the flowers in water, puts her bag up next to his, then eventually settles on the bed next to her with the datapad he wasn’t supposed to bring to work on reports for N-school he isn’t supposed to start until after she goes back to London.

He wonders if she’ll be willing to ask for a transfer to Brazil, or if she’ll want to stay in London where she has more friends, something of a support system for when he’s too busy or gone.

At least in London, she has Sam.

He decides he won’t ask.

At some point, she rolls over and shifts higher up the bed, opening one eye to stare at him like she’s not sure who he is or why he’s in her bed, then she blinks and a slow smile stretches across her face. She reaches out one hand for him, and he wraps his fingers around hers until she falls back asleep about ten seconds later.

It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

She finally wakes up after a couple hours and staggers to the bathroom without saying anything. She pops back out a minute later, all smiles, shaking out red hair that’s almost down to her elbows now.

He puts the datapad away and moves to sit up right at the edge of the mattress.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm…” She comes to stand between his knees and he lets his hands rest on her hips, easy as anything, like it hasn’t been nearly five months since he’s seen her. She stops playing with her hair and runs her fingers into his the best she can with most of it so short. “You shouldn’t’ve let me sleep so long.”

He slips his hands up under her shirt to rest against her skin. “You needed it.”

She makes a quiet little humming noise, not really agreeing or disagreeing, and leans in close like she’s going to kiss him. Their noses brush together, but she doesn’t press her lips to his, and he can’t help but tighten his grip on her.

“You know what else I need?”

He thinks he has a pretty good idea, but when he tilts his head up to kiss her, she stays just far enough away so he can’t.

“Birdie…”

She dips her head and he tilts his chin up, but she refuses to come close enough, her fingers tightening on his scalp in a way that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He loves when she’s like this.

He loves it.

“I believe I was promised a nice, big, delicious —” He tries to pull her closer mid-sentence, but she resists as her grin grows, “—fruity drink, and a white-sand beach, and a chance to show off the little bikini I bought.”

She nips his lower lip instead of kissing him and slips out of his grip as he groans. He can hear her giggling to herself as she grabs her bag and disappears back into the bathroom with it, leaving him to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

He’s been waiting so long to get his hands on her and he can’t even lie to himself to say he’s annoyed with her teasing.

He loves that too.

He’s still sitting on the bed when she emerges from the bathroom once more, this time in the little bikini she’d promised, the one he’d requested be held together with strings. It’s tiny and black, and it shows off her curves, and all he can think about is tangling his fingers in all that red hair and refusing to let her out of the house all week.

He doesn’t realize he’s just staring at her with his mouth open until she starts to laugh, walking closer with an exaggerated sway in her step to stand between his knees again.

She tips his chin up with her fingers. “See something you like?”

“Uhh… can I…” His hands hover in the air on either side of her stomach, a swirl of confusing feelings washing over him. He wants to yank her into his lap, roll them over on the bed, absolutely devour her; he wants to take her to the beach, take her to his favorite restaurant, show her off to the world; he wants to hold her and tell her she’s beautiful, that he loves her, that he can’t wait to meet their baby. He wants. 

She’s smiling at him still, but it’s a little softer, something in her eyes he can’t quite identify. “Go ahead.”

He’s tentative as he finally touches her, hands running over her biotic-warm skin, over scars and skin weaves and the surprisingly firm slope that leads down to her belly button. He brushes his fingertips across her skin, just the barest of touches, and she rests her hands on the small of her back as she waits for him to finish exploring this new part of her. 

“Is she, um. Is she awake?” The question feels silly, he feels silly for asking it, but Avery doesn’t look like she’s laughing at him. 

She just looks happy.

She puts her hand next to his as she shakes her head, then she pushes hard against the bump. “Nope. Lazy little thing.”

“Hey, growing is a hard job.” He leans forward and kisses the biggest part of the bump, then just under the string of her bikini top in something meant to be little gestures of affection but that makes her inhale sharply instead. He rests his chin there and looks up at her, unable to stop from smirking when he sees her cheeks stained pink. “Give her a break.”

He slides his hands around to rest on her back and pulls, and this time she lets him tug her all the way into his lap. She settles with her knees on either side of his hips and rests her hands on his shoulders.

“She can have a break when I get one,” Avery says, voice prim, repeating something she always says, and then she finally finally kisses him.

Oh, he’s missed this.

She kisses him like she can’t get enough, like she’d devour him if she could, hungry and desperate and everything he’s been waiting for. He opens his mouth to her and lets her lick into it as he runs his hands up her back. She’s warm and delicious and everything he wants, and he pulls at the bow holding her bikini top together without thinking about it.

She giggles and bites at his lower lip, tugging as she leans back before releasing him to pull her top off and drop it to the floor.

“Guess we can look at the beach later?” She arches her back as she speaks, and he barely hears her words as his gaze is drawn, as she intended, to her breasts and nipples that are little darker than he remembers, but still beautiful all the same. 

He doesn’t bother to answer whatever she asked, choosing instead to let her figure it out by kissing down between the valley of her breasts and then over, keeping her in his lap with one hand on her back and cupping the weight of her breast with the other, squeezing, licking and sucking at the hard peak as she gasps and squirms in his grip.

The pressure of her body on his dick is getting to him, her restless little movements just making him harder, and he groans around her flesh in his mouth as she manages to hit him just right, grinding against the bulge trapped in his pants like she was always meant to do this.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she says, voice small and breathy. She digs her fingernails into his scalp and holds him close, like he’d ever willingly push her away right now. “Your tongue is amazing. I could come just from this.”

She gives her hips another strong thrust as she does, like she’s trying to prove her point, and he can’t help but peer up at her.

He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

He braces his feet better on the floor and moves both his hands to her hips to help guide her, forcing her hips into a steady, rolling movement over his lap until he hears her shuddering little gasps each time he hits her clit just right. He keeps his mouth busy leaving little nipping kisses across her chest, giving both breasts the kind of attention he’s literally been dreaming about, letting her ramble about how good he is to her, just giving her all the attention she deserves until…

Her breath catches in her throat and then bursts out of her in a high-pitched whine, and her hips fight back against the motion of his hands, and her fingernails dig into his scalp.

She’s close, she’s so close he knows she just needs a little push, and so he groans against her chest and bites down just enough to change up the sensation, just enough to give his kisses that edge, and then she’s falling apart in his hands just like he knew she would.

A wordless cry falls from her lips and she shudders through it, holding him tight and pressing against him as hard as she can. It’s beautiful, and he can’t keep his eyes off her, off the goosebumps that flow over her skin and the red flush that reaches from her face down across her chest.

He wants to make her feel this good every single day of her life.

She pulls away after a moment, still panting, a wide grin on her face as she opens lust-darkened eyes and stares down at him. 

He smirks up at her, stupidly pleased, and then she’s pushing at his shoulders so he’ll fall onto his back.

“You have five seconds to get your clothes off,” she informs him, and then she stands up to follow her own command.

It takes more than five seconds, but he’s so ready to get his pants off that he doesn’t argue, jumping up and stripping in record time as Avery simply pushes her bikini bottoms over her hips and leaves them on the floor.

She’s already scooting back on the bed to get comfortable, her eyes on his dick where he’s stroking it because he can’t help but touch it to push back the desire to sink into her biotic-hot body and forget everything else in the galaxy.

He crawls over her, and she opens up for him, bracketing his waist with her knees and parting her lips to make their first kiss deep and wet, already trying to angle her hips up to meet his even as he keeps his weight braced up and well away from her.

She makes a little frustrated noise, grabbing for his dog tags like she always does. “C’mon, Jimmy.”

He lets her pull her close enough to kiss her, a teasing little swipe of his tongue across her lower lip. She releases him with a smile, then she squeals as he leans down and bites at her nipple once more, still reddened and swollen from his earlier attention.

He kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, across her hip, pausing to nip at her inner thigh when she spreads her legs further apart for the breadth of his shoulders.

She’s grinning down at him when he looks up at her, something smug on her face as she anticipates what he’s about to do.

“I missed that tongue of yours while you’ve been here.”

“That right?” He licks over the spot he bit and watches as she bites her lower lip. “Well, it missed you too.”

She huffs out a laugh and flops back onto the pillows, but her legs stay open and her hips cant up toward his mouth, eager like always.

He gives in, like always.

The taste of her bursts bright and tart on his tongue, and he moans against her as he licks up her slit. He presses his tongue in deep when she starts to grind up against his face, then moves a little closer in on his elbows so he can start up a fast pattern over her clit just to hear her—

She swears roundly, hands landing on the back of his head like they belong there, tugging him closer like he’d try to leave. 

He never wants to leave.

He holds her hips as steady as he can with his arms under her thighs, and doesn’t put effort into teasing her in favor of just giving her what she wants. She came all this way to see him, and he’s going to make sure she never forgets what he’s able to do for her, what he’s able to coax out of her body.

Her quiet groans become louder, cries of his name and little admissions that make his dick ache to be inside of her, unhappy to be pushed into the mattress for the time being.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she says, voice breathy and rambling like she can’t help it, “I don’t know how I snagged you, don’t know how there aren’t girls lining up for a turn.”

His laugh is buried deep in her cunt but she hears it anyway, or she feels it, because she bites off a high-pitched moan that lets him know she’s close but not quite there before she picks back up where she left off.

“Mmm, yeah, you know it’s true just look at you, fucking hungry for it, couldn’t even wait until after we went to the beach.”

He’s not about to pull his mouth free to remind her that she’s the one who started teasing him, she’s the one who was talking about what big delicious things she needed, so he just tightens his grip on her hips and closes his eyes and focuses on the way his tongue is dancing over her clit because she’s so close and if he can just get her in the right spot…

“Fuck, right there.” She catches her breath, lets it out in a whoosh, and her thighs start to shake by his ears. “I’m gonna come, baby.” 

It’s the only time she calls him baby, right as she’s about to come, and he loves to hear it, loves to coax it or force it out of her, and he just has to wait one more second she’s so close—

When she comes it’s absolutely silent, her body going taught around him, her fingers digging painfully into his scalp, her thighs tense and shaking, blocking him in from moving, her feet pressed against his sides like she can hold him there.

He keeps licking her until she catches her breath and manages to wail, the sound ripped from her almost against her will, and then she’s pushing him away because she’s too sensitive now, but he needs to be able to breathe anyway.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his face as she tries to catch her breath, legs still spread obscenely on either side of him, one arm hooked over her face so she can hide her eyes behind her elbow.

“That good, huh?”

“Fuck you,” she says, absolutely no venom in her voice. 

He snickers and leans over her, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees, kissing her under her arm. She kisses him back and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck instead of holding it over her face. She licks his lips, into his mouth, moaning at the taste of herself like she always does, and he follows his instincts to sink down lower when he feels her legs come up around his hips too.

Her stomach bumps against his before he’s expecting it to, and he tries to push back up before she locks her ankles at the small of his back.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, fucked out and eloquent.

“You sure this is—” He trails off because she finally opens her eyes and looks up at him, moving her hands around to cup his jaw.

Her fingers trace his cheeks, dance over the scar that traces across his face, and his heart does that same little flop as before. “Perfectly safe. Recommended, even. I’ll tell you if something hurts, just, please, please for the love of god, fuck me.”

Well.

He can’t argue with that.

He kisses her again, then pulls away with a little smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lets go of his neck and puts her hands flat on the headboard behind her, smirking right back, and he takes his cue to sit back on his heels.

He takes himself in hand and lines up, not bothering to tease anymore, slipping deep inside her with one slow, delicious thrust.

He can barely hear her whimper over his own groan at being inside of her again. It’s everything he’s been missing and somehow better than he remembered, tight and almost too hot and he never, ever wants to leave.

When he doesn’t move fast enough for her, too busy enjoying the feeling of being inside her again, she uses her leverage to push her hips hard into his, nearly knocking him off-balance

“Goddamn,” he says, forcing the word out through grit teeth. “Okay. You asked for it.”

He looks down to see her face break into a wide, dirty smile, her face flushed and hair sticking to her damp forehead.

And then he pulls out, and pushes back in, hard, and he grins at the delighted laugh that pushes from Avery’s throat.

He can do better than that.

He fucks her, hard, just like she asked, a punishing pace that has sweat dripping from his scalp and pleasure shooting up his spine faster than he’d like.

It has been a long time.

He puts his hands on her ass and lifts her hips onto his thighs, and the next thrust makes her howl and arch her back, a delighted sound that he wants her to make again, so he grits his teeth together against the mounting pleasure and keeps fucking going.

She’s going to come again.

She deserves it.

“This what you wanted, birdie?” His voice is rough, words forced out between sharp thrusts and harsh breaths, but they have the effect he wanted. She arches again, squirming against his bruising grip, face twisted in what he would think is pain if he didn’t know better. “This what you flew all the way out here for?”

Her “Yes!” is frantic, barely an answer to his question and more of a general exclamation of approval, and he smiles to himself as he shifts his grip on her so he can bring his right hand to her clit. She shrieks again when he presses his thumb against it, hips moving a little slower now so he can focus, but no less hard, and she absolutely howls with it.

She’s so close.

He is too.

“Come for me,” he says, trying to make it sound more like a demand and less like the plea it is. “Let me fucking feel you.”

She nods, fast, eyes squeezed closed and mouth open, chest heaving as she draws in ragged breaths.

He presses harder with his thumb, his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him at any moment, praying, praying, praying…

She begins to come barely a second before him, his name dripping from her lips as her cunt clenches around him, and then he can’t hold on for anything. He fucks through it, pleasure bursting through him and making his vision go white, and he curls around her to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he comes inside her.

When he comes back to himself, she’s rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head. 

“Doing okay there?”

She sounds amused, so he just groans in answer, earning the giggle he was aiming for.

“You’re gonna crush me,” she informs him, still sounding amused.

He rolls to the side but doesn’t let go of her, tugging until her back is against his front and her hair is all over his face. It’s annoying, but he can’t make himself care.

She wiggles in his grip. “I thought you were taking me to the beach.”

He squeezes her tighter, presses a kiss to the back of her neck where he thinks her amp port is. “I’m just catching my breath. Give me a minute.”

He’s asleep before he hears her response.

[coldwordsburningheart]

RULES

AGE: I won’t roleplay with ANYONE younger than fourteen. I have nothing against younger roleplayers but I am not going to plot anything with someone who shouldn’t even have a phone or social media at least. (Yes, I am not an oldie, gen z here but this won’t change anything.)

NSFW: Mun is over 18. That means this is a free NSFW blog and I am open to roleplay anything. I have a few triggers that you'll find if you read all of my rules. I don't need to say that I won’t roleplay anything sexual with minors. I’ll have to ask your age if we do something like this. BOTH mun and muses need to be over eighteen. If your mun is not in proper age we can stick to the soft stuff only (hugging etc.) ATTENTION. I do NOT age up Shoto for the reason of smut. If you are not able to understand this, stay away from this blog.

SHIPPING: By the way I portray Shoto, he is biromantic. That means that I will ship him with both males and females but I prefer to stick to male characters. As long as the female character is well written, there’s always a chance to ship him with her. I have to admit I’m picky with female OCs because in my experience their portrayal is too shallow. Shoto is not just romantic. He needs to share a deeper bond with his partner.

TAGGING: I will write smut stuff under the READ MORE tool and I will use the tag: #smut. When it comes to triggers, I will try and tag some heavy matters under the tag: #tw: yourwarninggoeshere. I’ll use a space after ‘tw:’. You can tell me your triggers by sending me a message or an ask. Right now I tag anything that is written in my TRIGGERS PAGE (You can find it on navigation). I tag anything my mutuals have on their rules/about page. I am a human being so I might forget to tag something, so remind me if I haven’t.

FOLLOWING: I will follow most of my roleplay partners or those I want to roleplay with but if we don’t interact for a long time (a few months) or have stopped roleplaying for various reasons, I will unfollow you. I don’t mind not being followed back. This blog will include graphic images of pain and horror or NSFW content so I understand if someone doesn’t want to have my posts on their dash. For me following you, consider that I've already read your own rules and about pages.

POST LENGTH: My writing style is advanced literate. That means I need more than a paragraph to roleplay with. One paragraph is fine still, but as long as there’s something interesting to reply. I don’t mind how long your replies are. Just take notice that I will probably mirror you and my reply will be the same length.

WARNING: I have written this again but I want to make sure that it’s clear enough. I will probably roleplay some heavy matters like mental illness, suicide, torture, etc. There are matters I will roleplay that might make some people sick. So either tell me your trigger warning to tag those, either don’t follow me. That doesn’t mean that if you request me to roleplay something soft or something canon I won’t.

SELECTIVE: I am selective when it comes to writing. Like I said, I need a paragraph or more to reply. I need to roleplay in third person and I don’t roleplay on DM.

MULTIPLE THREADS: I don’t mind having multiple threads with the same person especially if I enjoy their writing.

MAINS: I have blogs/threads which I prioritize over others. This isn't personal. I just feel more motivated to reply to those. I don't have exclusives.

TRACKING:  I usually track my threads with an app but it takes a lot of my time. I try to use a tagging system even if it doesn’t work as well as I want it to. Don’t be scared to remind me to reply to something I might have forgotten. I could possibly forget to add it to my tracker.

REMINDERS: Constant reminders make me lose my interest in the roleplay (if there’s any). I understand and appreciate for someone to tell me I have forgotten something. Myself, I will remind someone of our thread after a month or even more.

REPLIES: I want to study as a med student and have to work at the same time. That means that I can be really slow when it comes to replies. I wish you understand and don’t feel offended or lose your interest if I take some time to answer our thread. I believe in quality over quantity. Some days I might reply to specific people. That has nothing to do with you or your writing. I just might need to roleplay a specific matter or thread or enjoy someone’s writing too much and need to focus on that for some time.

ASKS: I will reply to any asks. Sending me memes or starters makes me really happy, but I am someone who thinks of those as a chance to start something which has a well-built plot. Short time threads are not my thing.

GAMES: Tag me to any games and stuff. I love those and there’s a chance to show more aspects of my muse.

ICONS: I roleplay with icons that I have made myself. I don’t expect you to do so. Please, do not steal my icons. Some of them are edited manga screens which I might have spent a lot of time on. Especially my villain Shoto one’s.

CUTTING POSTS: I have finally found out how to cut posts. Still, I don’t expect you to do so.

STARTERS: My open starters are actually open to everyone. Then I'll reply to another post and tag you. If I offer to make a starter and you accept and you don't reply after a month, and if I have messaged you and you haven't responded but you are actually active, sorry but no matter how specifically we have plotted our thread, I'll assume you are not interested anymore and turn it to an open starter. I put some time on those and I don't want it to be to waste.

ENGLISH: English is not my mother language. I have learnt English completely alone and it’s something that had been hard for me. I understand telling me if I have made any mistakes or ask me if you didn’t understand anything but I won’t take any criticism.

TRIGGERS: My triggers are pretty funny. So please, I'd love if you could tag anything that is related to aliens. Mostly images because I can easily freak out about those. That's something I have since I was a kid and I can't get rid of it. Also, cockroaches. Please, please do not use them in metaphors in our threads, tag if you have memes about those and all that kind of stuff. I'd appreciate that A LOT. Another trigger that is about smut (jump to the next rule if you are a minor) is age-play. I've read some sick stuff on Ao3 so do not even discuss roleplaying something in that sort of thing.

TIME-SKIP: Well, I’m someone who can enjoy something that is slow. I am pleased with anything as long as there’s some really good and inspiring writing (how many times have I said this?). I can keep a thread for years (and I have) and not be bored of it. If you start getting bored we can time-skip but I’d want to discuss this first.

MEMES/FANART: This is something I had recently started to be annoyed with. Please, do not use me as meme or fanart source. This goes for roleplay partners or not. Please, reblog memes AND fanart from the source.

SPOILERS: This blog is not spoiler free. I am caught up to the manga. I will tag spoilers from the latest chapters ONLY as: #|bnhaspoilers|. You have been warned. 

THANK YOU FOR READING MY RUMBLING BEFORE MESSAGING ME FIRST. PLEASE CHECK MY INTRO AND MY ABOUT PAGE. ALSO YOU CAN CHECK MY VERSES AND OPEN STARTERS. LINKS ARE ON MY DESCRIPTION FOR BOTH COMPUTER OR MOBILE USERS. YOU CAN MESSAGE ME AND PLOT ANY TIME. THANKS FOR YOUR TIME. JUST FYI I AM A LOT LIKE SHOTO SO I MIGHT NOT BE TALKATIVE. THIS IS NOT PERSONAL AND DOESN’T MEAN I AM NOT INTERESTED FOR OUR MUSES TO INTERACT.

[overhacl]

MOBILE RULES

rules are simple -- sorry they’re so long-winded! But they’re important.

I’m Tea! They/Them non-binary 28 years old!

I make my own icons and graphics. Please do NOT steal them.  I have worked hard making them!

,This blog will contain sensitive topics.  I’m not going to water down Overhaul’s character, so don’t expect anything less from me. Overhaul will attack, maim, torture and kill. I prefer to respect the source material.  Topics that will appear on this blog: Murder, death, gore, child abuse, torture, other dark themes.

 Mun =/= Muse.  This should be obvious.  I don’t agree with everything my character says or does, and we do not share the same beliefs.  

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FOLLOWING & INTERACTING

疫   If I follow you it means i’m interested in writing with you!  It may take a while for me to gather the courage to talk to you.  I’m usually very shy with new people, but I like to try and jump in!

疫 PLEASE HAVE A RULES PAGE THAT CAN BE EASILY ACCESSED.  I won’t follow if I am unfamiliar with you and have no rules page!

疫  If I unfollow you, I probably did so for my own comfort.  If something really bothers me, and we’re mutuals or we’ve interacted for a while/you’re someone i’m close to, i’ll bring it to your attention.  But if my comfort is compromised repeatedly for any reason I will unfollow, and in extreme cases: Hard block.  Please don’t confront me about it.

疫  I am a PRIVATE blog.  Meaning if we aren’t MUTUALS, please do not like my starter calls, send me ic asks, or reblog or reply to opens.

疫   I am SELECTIVE.  My muse comes and goes, and I wont always be active here since I run about 4 other blogs.  My muse for certain threads might be higher than it is for others, but this doesn’t mean I no longer want to interact with you!  I try not to force myself to reply to things, and wait until I have inspiration and muse.  It keeps me from burning myself out!

疫    I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t pester me for replies at all.  It stresses me out and makes me feel rushed.  I come here to write and have fun.

疫  I’m not the best at plotting, but I do enjoy it!  If you want to plot something, let me know!  I’ll probably approach you, too, if I have an idea!

疫   I’m all for ooc interacting on discord!  Discord is available upon request to any of my mutuals.  I don’t really like talking using the Tumblr IM system!  Something to keep in mind, though.  I’m not always feeling up for talking ooc, even if i’m posting on dash!  I tend to have bouts of low energy spells, so I promise it’s not me just ignoring you.

疫   DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU SHIP UNDERAGE MUSES WITH ADULTS.  DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH PUTTING UNDERAGE CHARACTERS INTO SEXUAL OR SUGGESTIVE SITUATIONS. DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU AGE UP MINORS FOR SMUT!  This makes me uncomfortable.  I will not follow you back.  

疫  FURTHERMORE. DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU WOOBIFY VILLAINS. If you make Overhaul soft and uwu for example (there are a lot of problems with this).   As an abuse survivor, this makes me INCREDIBLY uncomfortable.  I will ask politely that you do not interact with me.  The villains are criminals who have done terrible things.  A lot of them are victims in their own right, but that doesn’t absolve them of murder, child abuse, and other shit they’ve done.  So if you do this, please dni.  

疫  I prefer to interact with muses within the BNHA universe.  I may make exceptions, but for the most part, I would prefer if you have a BNHA verse!  

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OTHER STUFF

疫 VAGUE BLOGGING, EXCESSIVE OOC THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR BLOG AND DRAMA WILL GIVE YOU A UNFOLLOW/HARD BLOCK.  Please do not vague blog me if I unfollow.

疫  No god-modding, meta-playing/gaming, or killing off my character without my consent.  I will not hesitate to drop a thread if this happens.  I will not hesitate to block if it happens repeatedly.

疫  I’m iffy about NSFW. If it happens, it won’t be often.  Please don’t pester me about it!! I LOVE TO SHIP. TOXIC SHIPS ARE MY FAVORITE. Ship with nasty man.

疫 I DO INTERACT WITH OCS.  But i am very selective with them for personal reasons.Please make sure you have a rules and about page!  If I cannot find one, I won’t follow back.

疫  Please don’t ask me if I want to roleplay with you.  I dislike feeling pressured, or obligated to follow back.  

疫  If you ever notice im interacting with someone who is problematic or toxic.  PLEASE LET ME KNOW PRIVATELY. I do my best to avoid blogs like this, but sometimes I miss them.

疫 YANDERE STANS, CHARACTERS WHO ARE HEAVILY PORTRAYED WITH THE YANDERE TROPE, PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME.  I HAVE BPD AND THAT TROPE IS INCREDIBLY HARMFUL AND ADDS TO THE TOXIC STIGMA AND STEREOTYPES ASSOCIATED WITH MY MENTAL ILLNESS. 

疫   Religion is a topic that makes me very uncomfortable.  If we’re close friends, i’m okay with light mentions of it and such.  But if you have a muse who has very heavy themes of religion, I will not follow or interact with you. Sorry.

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I have some triggers!

Child abuse - do not interact with me with anything of this nature unless it’s VAGUE (if you’re unsure about something PLEASE ASK).  Do not talk to me about anything of this nature ooc. Please.

Animal death/abuse

Creepypasta (mostly imagery like the horror faces/Jeff the killer type stuff. I’m okay with watching or reading it on my own time, but don’t bring it to me unexpectedly. Seeing it unexpectedly can mess with my anxiety)

FNAF

Alcohol (please tag any and all mentions)

Real life gore (mostly things like intestines and broken bones and deep wounds where the muscle is visible, etc. things of that nature.)

Religion and politics. Do not talk to me about these things unless it’s relevant to a PLOT or your character. Characters that are heavily influenced by religion or religious themes I likely will not follow.

I’ll add more when I can think of any but these are my major ones.

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Did You Miss Me? Adlock One-Shot, Rated M

Just in case the whole ‘links in posts make your shit invisible’ issue is still present, I’ll post directly to tumblr as well. Because why not? Here there be s-mut-tastic Adlock. Written over four years ago, and post Series 3 but Pre-Abominable Bride.

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Adlock (Sherlock Holmes/Irene Adler)

Rating: At least Mature, probably Explicit

Summary: Shameless and mostly plot-less smut. One-Shot. After the events of His Last Vow, Irene is already waiting for Sherlock at 221B. This was written before The Abominable Bride was released so it's only canon compliant so far as the end of series 3. Any other details, minimal as they are, were based purely on speculation at the time. 

Read below or if you’d prefer an AO3 link, I’ve posted it in a previous post on my blog. Also have ff.net if you’re feeling nostalgic. Ask and ye shall receive. The tags on AO3 do warn of obvious sexual content and minor but present knife play.

 Irene Adler was perched on his chair, hair loose, down, and slightly curled, his red dressing gown wrapped around her figure this time, the threat of whether or not she was naked underneath it unable to be ascertained from the naked eye at the position she was currently in. She tapped her uncharacteristically plain nails on the arm of the chair, lost in thought, only to be rescued from it by the turn of the key in the door and the stepping in of 'The Man.'

 She licked her blood-red lips (the one indulgence she had been unable to forsake and thus, permitted herself, from her 'old life') before a small smirk tugged at her lips as his eyes fell      into     hers, and she murmured coyly, "Thought I'd save you the phone call, dear. I do feel for your 'phone anxiety.'" She teased him lightly, coming to a stand finally and taking a step or two towards him.

 Sherlock drank her in with a combination of more or less equal parts delight and dread, neither of which showed through fully on his face. Mostly what came through, perhaps to his chagrin, was just a bounty of relief.

 "No complications in arriving, I hope?" He murmured with a quirk of his brow, slowly gliding towards her as well, by instinct more than thought. He didn't ask how she knew to come - not relevant nor surprising. "Weren't followed or harassed, or even vehemently stared at?" His lips barely twitched.

 She bit her bottom lip coquettishly, staring at him up through her thick, made-up eyelashes as she took another step towards him and glided a hand up his chest, carefully avoiding the area of his bullet wound before coming up to drag it along his left cheekbone.

 "Not until now...." She husked gently. "I'm very good at staying incognito when I need to be... Especially if it means getting to my      lover     faster..." She winked, knowing his distaste for the term, though lovers in the Elizabethan sense, they most certainly were, if not more.

 He pulled a face and made a bit of a rumble of discontent from his throat, over-dramatising his distaste accordingly.

 "Don't make me more ill, I just spent all afternoon with my brother," he teased, though his hand was almost absentmindedly playing over the curve of her hip in his dressing gown, stroking the edges of his fingernails over the lightly striped fabric, but only just. "Granted it was coming to agreement on how I      don't     have to go get myself killed in Eastern Europe, so I suppose it was productive..."

 She nodded slowly, leaning up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips to his 'chastely'-      titillatingly     before pulling back quickly to take a step back and slap him hard across his cheek.

 "Don't you      ever    allow yourself to get shot and almost die on me, ever again, do you hear me, Sherlock Holmes? If a woman ever does hold a pistol to you again, it will be      me    --though the context may be      questionable    ...." She softened on the last word, the same hand that gave the blow now coming up to soothe the sting.

 "Sorry, darling... Delayed reaction from my little hospital visit…”

 His eyes were sharp as he stared down at her, but not in a particularly vicious way, his jaw tensing in a brief tick of annoyance. He didn't protest. Instead, his arm shot out and ensnared her waist, yanking her body against his and nearly off of her bare feet, in retort for her assault.

 "Fair enough, Miss Adler, I'll vye for immortality if you'll join me," he challenged dryly, angling his head down at her.

 She cracked a smile, a dark but gentle chuckle following after it as she weaved her arms around his neck and knocked per pelvis against his.

 "Mmm, gladly, Mr Holmes. Think of all the      'dinners'    we could have....." She purred, her fingers tangling in his hair slowly, nails scraping along his scalp.

 He barely managed to bite back a groan. Damn woman knew his weaknesses. Luckily, it was mutual. He stroked a hand up and across her torso, across her chest leisurely, and up lightly to her throat. He spun on his heel and walked her backward, til her back pressed against the wall.

 "I believe infinity might actually bore us," he observed darkly, his other hand stroking down her hip, bunching the fabric of his dressing gown in his hand as he went.

 She gasped in appreciation as he pressed her against the wall slowly, her eyes darkening and her grip on his locks tightening as he sparked her arousal further.

 "Mm, perhaps... Though I don't think I could ever tire of...      you    ." She flirted sentimentally, though one hand had come down to grip his loins over his trousers as she uttered the last word, making it clear the ‘true’ direction of the compliment.

 A sharp intake of breath notwithstanding, his eyes merely narrowed at her as he pulled the dressing gown to the side, his hand gripping the bare flesh of her thigh with a sort of carnal relief. His hand stroked the creamy expanse of skin for a moment before hiking it up to his hip, fitting himself against her far more snugly in the process.

 "You are probably the only human being I could fathom not boring me after a century...you'd be too in danger of boring yourself," he murmured, now a breath away from her lips.

 She arched her neck back softly, a small moan escaping her throat as he 'manhandled' her and his own arousal met hers, though sadly obstructed by his clothing.

 "Mm, likewise, I'm sure." She replied tartly, tugging the dressing gown all the way down and off her torso to expose her breasts to him finally, waiting a moment to drink in his reaction.

 "Tell me, Sherlock dear, how long has been since we last      'ate?'    " She asked him in instigation.

 His eyes zeroed in on her chest, dark and searing, and his free hand came up to stroke over the curve of her left breast, indulgently. He narrowed his eyes in playful consideration before glancing back up.

 "One year, five months, two weeks, and three days," he rumbled as he ducked his head to take the bud of her nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it as he applied suction.

 "Mmmahh!" Irene gave him a breathy moan, an echo of his text alert from days past, as his mouth accosts her breast, much to her appreciation and delight. "Mm, I do adore your addiction to precision and retaining facts...." She husked, as her hands, both now, tangled in his hair further, allowing them both to enjoy his actions for a few moments before she pulled his head back roughly, eyeing him darkly as she placed her foot against his hip suddenly and kicked him back.

"However, I also adore your 'selective patience,' emphasis on 'selective.'" She chided him, untying the dressing gown and letting it pool completely at her feet before she turned on her heel and padded her way to the kitchen. She ran a finger along the middle table, only pausing as her eyes spotted his microscope and smiled to herself before glancing back at him, coy and conspiring. She then turned back and leaned down to gaze into it, her bent over, bare arse, purposefully holding a place of prominence in his eyesight.

 He rolled his eyes and quietly  groaned to himself at her playing the coquette. Again. He was well acquainted with her tendency to play with her meals, so to speak, and he would've been more shocked had she been impatient enough to make this simple.      Wrong woman    , he mused in resignation as he followed her fleeing steps towards the kitchen, only to halt, at her stance.

 "See anything that interests you?" He rasped wryly once he'd recovered from his mouth going dry, walking up behind her cautiously. There wasn't much of technical intrigue in there, only some samples from his last case, but she was looking quite...      Intently    .

 Irene grinned like the Cheshire Cat as she felt his figure come up behind her, though, apparently, refusing to make any direct contact      yet    . She adjusted the focus of the microscope shifting her weight from her right hip to her left as she leaned back slightly, arse pressing against his arousal which left them in a      very    suggestive position as she feigned to act like she needed the leverage to 'see' the slide more properly.

 "AB+.... One of the rarest blood types there is... Hmm, was this the victim's or the perpetrator's, Mr Holmes?" She asked, 'matter-of-factly' as she continued to examine the blood slide, her buttocks flanking his erection and starting to grind on him ever so faintly.

 His jaw slacked as the sensation of her friction against his groin joined the highly intriguing fact she was identifying blood types in his microscope coincided into one large wave of arousal that sent a shudder down his spine. His hands made contact with her hips, fingers flexing with her subtle movement.

 "The uh...victim's," he rumbled distractedly, his right hand moving to trace up the curve of her spine. "The distinction of the blood was what made the perpetrator obvious...small traces under the fingernails..." He continued, pressing himself forward as he bent to brush his lips up the trek which his hand just made.

 Her bare flesh got goose pimples at his touch and then even more so at as she felt his lips echoing his touch along her spine.She took a moment to close her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she willed the wetness that was eagerly gathering between her thighs, shifting her weight back to her right foot in a subtly effort to provide some sort of 'scratch' to her growing 'itch.'

 "T-That makes sense...." She stammered slightly, the only other physical indication that she was utterly and totally affected by him, right now. She righted herself, coming to her full height, as petite as that was, to lean her back against his chest momentarily before she bucked her arse backwards to force him back so that she could cross around the table to pluck a banana from a bundle he had apparently bought out of some impulse or need for potassium for some 'experiment.' She leaned against the counter, crossing her ankles as she eyed him lustfully, peeling the banana slowly, deftly, suggestively before finally asking--now under full 'control' once more.

 "So....      Sherlock    , 'impress a girl....' How long did it take you to figure out that last case, hmm?" She 'challenged' lightly, knowing the man got hard and off on nothing more than his own--or her own--intellect mixed with sexual content.

 His eyes narrowed, dark and growing more desperate by the moment, especially once he'd seen her obvious distraction. She was losing focus, in there somewhere.

 "About as quickly as I could gather all the components," he murmured, taking a couple steps towards her. "After I'd seen the blood type, I knew it was a possible red flag, so in theory it was rather immediate. Once the suspects were narrowed down, it became a process of elimination. All I needed was the opportunity to examine them," he explained in a low rhythmic tone, in tune with his steps as he crossed the room.  "In short, the case was closed, more or less, in three days."

 She watched him carefully, tossing the peel aside and before she brought the head of the fruit to her mouth, tongue darting out to circle the tip of it before she bobbed her head down and around the fruit before she bit the head off and started to chew it as she gazed at him darkly.

"Mmm, now that's my kind of man..." She purred playfully, echoing lost words before swallowing finally.

 He watched her little 'show' with wide exasperated eyes, his chest rising and falling in time with his faintly labored breathing. His steps continued towards her, forcing himself to keep a steady pace and not rush up to her. Unnecessary and a clear sign of desperation. When he came toe to toe with her he didn't stop, pressing forward with an arm on either side of her form, essentially trapping her between his chest and the counter.

 He didn't speak, merely angled his head and forcefully captured her lips with his, knowing she'd have a smart retort for anything he'd have to say. He didn't give her the chance.

 She responded by returning the pressure of his lips with her own and tossing the banana aside as her hands came up his chest to cup his face tightly,  thrusting her tongue into his mouth forcefully. He may have the dominant position physically, but she wasn't about to let him have it orally, as well. She growled as her teeth clashed with his, her actions becoming more primitive with each passing second.

 His hands rushed from the counter to her hips, needing some purchase on her anatomy as she had so clearly taken her own. It gave him the ability to press her back into the counter, taking his height to his advantage to try to regain some control. He straightened his back and angled his head down, attempting to match her force at the least, as he now could press down and into her mouth with his tongue. Once he felt he'd thoroughly attempted to make his point, his grip on her hips tightened as he lifted her weight onto the counter, concurrently pulling back only far enough to breathe.

 "Been awhile, Miss Adler?" He rumbled in a breathless taunt, unable to resist drawing attention to her rather telling aggression despite the hypocrisy, as he pressed himself between her dangling legs.

 She allowed him to lift her and assert his 'leadership' in their little foreplay scene,  cracking a sly smile at his remark and it's sanctimoniousness, the distinguishable 'tenting' of his trousers condemning him outright.

 "Apparently so, Mr Holmes. At least '      someone'    in this room isn't ashamed to say he missed me..." She teased him darkly, as she removed her right hand from his cheek to reach behind her subtly to a kitchen knife left out on the counter slowly, gripping it's handle carefully as she held his gaze with a steady, coy one of her own.

 His eyes widened only briefly on instinct, before they narrowed purposefully, eyebrow lifting faintly. He had little to no worry for his life in her presence, truly. His extremities were only a minimal percentage higher.

 "I missed you," he confirmed only a tad wryly, hoping the uncharacteristic, however true, response might just throw her off her game a tad. Which game she was playing, though, remained to be seen.

 She cocked her head slowly, his frank and strangely honest response so easily given automatically making her a bit suspicious, though the sincerity of his look softened her gaze and she 'rewarded' him with small smile before whispering,      "And I missed you, too."  

 She then dragged her index finger down his cheek and lips and down his neck before gripping his shirt tightly and tugging it towards her, thus pulling it away from his body, before she brought the knife from behind her back and quickly, and deftly cut each button from it's thread to reveal his bare chest behind the fabric.

 "You're even more charming       out    of your clothes, dear, care to say that last sentence again...?" She bit her bottom lip and grinned wickedly as she drew the tip of the knife down the centre of his chest, pausing where his trousers began and the beginnings of the auburn hairs of his 'happy trail' began.

 He scowled at her for a moment before his face contorted into a different sort of expression all together, feeling the beginnings of adrenaline threatening his bloodstream as she drug the blade southward. She did have a penchant for knowing his      intrigues    . Though instead of snatching the knife from her, as was his first instinct, or even listening to her request, he just glanced down with purposeful annoyance at his ruined shirt and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth thoughtfully.

 "I suppose I deserve that from Paris," he snarked lowly, recalling an incident with him rather deliberately ripping what was      apparently     a rather expensive dress.

 She chuckled once before narrowing her eyes at his as she applied a dash of pressure with the knife as she retorted in mock annoyance, "      Quite    . That dress was a bloody McQueen..." She reminded him before bringing the knife down to the bulge in his trousers, dragging the tip along his obvious length titillatingly as she licked her lips.

 "Mmm.... To think, there was once a time when I'd rather have castrated you completely than merely arouse you with my own 'sword....'" She winked in self-amusement before continuing, "Thankfully, however, that attitude towards you really only lasted that      one     night..." She murmured, referencing the night he threw her to the dogs, in the shape of his elder brother, a bit of 'ammunition' she like to employ every once in a while, if only just to then prove his more than evident feelings towards her by always then following it up with the reminder of how he very quickly remedied that little blunder.

 He swallowed, he hoped subtly, and attempted to even his breathing, meeting her eyes in challenge. Oh, he knew exactly what she was insinuating, she did like to rub that in. But he chose the more blunt road for a response.

 "I think we're      both     rather thankful for that, this instant," he drawled, still feeling the tip of a knife exactly where a man      least     wants to feel one. Assuming, of course, he was decidedly 'normal' and wasn't just a tad amused at the obviously empty threat.

 She smirked and glanced down at the knife, circling the outline of his member's head lightly before removing it from the area completely, murmuring a hit of agreement as she did so. She brought it up and wielded it in front of him as she momentarily debated how to proceed with it, if at all before a slightly twisted but, nevertheless,      arousing    idea sparked in her mind.

 Without any explanation or warning, she grabbed his right hand from her hip and held it open before pricking the tip of his pointer finger until a small thread of blood began to ooze out. She then did the same to her right index finger, glancing at him briefly before setting the knife down to bring the accosted hand with her other up to her mouth. She locked eyes with him heavily as she ran her tongue up his digit, lapping up his most human, and 'sacred' bodily fluid into her mouth to 'digest' and mix with her own before sucking on it rather suggestively, her tongue circling the cut before applying pressure to clot the flow of the blood.

 As she did this she brought her own lightly bleeding digit up to his mouth, waiting for him to accept and perform, this 'self-ordained lover's ritual,' from his own free will, raising a single brow as her only attempt to 'challenge' him into it.

 He watched her with a strange sort of nearly-perplexed fascination, before his eyes lulled, turning heavy-lidded with arousal as her tongue stroked over the length of his finger, insinuation more than obvious. Then without rhyme or reason, the unspoken and fairly unspecified significance was returned as he dipped his mouth over her seeping digit. His tongue swirled over the wound itself with deliberate dexterity to counter her own, relishing the coppery taste no matter the oddness of the circumstance. It was an unbridled extension of      her     which made it no more off limits to him than any of her other bodily fluids.

 He sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth fully, before biting down lightly just below where she'd split the skin, as he pulled it from his mouth.

 She let out a moan of utter eroticism as he bit down and sucked the blood from her finger before abandoning it. Her eyes, too, were heavy and full with lust and desire at their little exchange and she stared into his eyes as she echoed his action, dislodging his finger from her mouth, only to glance down at the bit of blood still on it before painting her lips with it and rubbing them together as one would with lipstick.

 "I think I      much     prefer this shade to the one in my purse... Might have to take a bottle back with me...." She husked lowly, swallowing the contents of his digit finally as she continued to gaze at him daringly, her implication both clear and slightly ambiguous.

 His eyes locked to her mouth, lips twitching at her action and the implication that came with it. He drew his finger back from her grasp, the dull sting nearly impossible to distinguish through the rest of the blood gushing through his veins. He perhaps waited a few seconds before his hand gripped the back of her neck harshly and pulled her forward, sucking the taste of his own lifeblood from her lips with a hunger that he wouldn't have fathomed rational. His other hand had shifted itself from her hip to gripping her inner thigh, pressing it further away from its companion so he could press as flush against her as the counter would allow.

 Her hands flew to his chest, running her nails up his bare skin before exploring his pectoral muscles and nipples as she hungrily returned his kiss with just as much force and expression. She moaned into his mouth,- a moan of sheer want and need for      him,     and      only him,     to fill her up once more; to satisfy her once more; to 'make love'--as      sentimental     a phrase it was--once more, before she wrapped her legs around his waist to hug his groin against hers, needing some sort of friction against her throbbing nub, lest she go mad from desire.

 He groaned at the contact, low and rumbling in the back of his throat, bucking his hips against her centre thoughtlessly, at both their detriment. He recovered quickly, letting go of her entirely to pull the tattered remains of his shirt off of his arms, yanking it from his trousers and letting it fall to the floor, all without hardly breaking from her mouth. He ripped open his belt in a frenzy, and unzipped his trousers for the sake of relief from how tight they'd become, but otherwise left them in place, instead turning his attention back to her.

 His left hand wrapped around her waist, urging her to the very edge of the counter while his right was urging up her inner thigh. He didn't waste much of his or her time, immediately pressing a thumb to her clit just to hear her sharp intake of breath at the sudden contact after leaving it wanting.

 "Ahhhhh..." She exhaled upon inhaling pointedly, nipping his bottom lip in automatic response to his assault. She pulled back and stared up at him, her right hand ghost in down his chest before gripping his length over his pants and squeezing faintly, as she purred, "You know, Sherlock, we've never 'christened' your flat... Let alone your      bed...    Well,      I    have...but your cock is      much     preferable to my hand...." She winked at her 'confession,' before biting her bottom lip seductively.

 The moment her statement clicked was most assuredly visible on his face, much less the faint growl that she could probably feel reverberating through his chest. He tilted his hips into her grip, even as his two fingers began to tease her rather soaked entrance, pressing on either side but not moving towards it.

 "You're a very bad woman," he remarked      almost     casually, as though it were a fact he were recalling as opposed to a direct accusation. His thumb began to shift back and forth. "But you are quite correct..."

 She gyrated her hips in a desperate attempt to manipulate his touch. She whimpered softly, an action she was slowly, and secretly, growing more accustomed to enjoying as her hand around him tugged his cock in silent retribution.

 "And      you    are a very bad man." She hissed. "Besides, dear, we      both     know that image, and fact, is making you even harder as we speak... Why else do you think I insisted on showering before we 'chatted' about the mobile...?" She pressed.

 He didn't give her the satisfaction of a direct response, confirming the obvious, though the pained desire was probably clear on his face. Instead he merely plunged both of his teasing fingers inside of her suddenly, successfully dropping the focus from his arousal and nailing it clearly on her own. He crooked them knowingly, raising his brows.

 "An excuse to steal my clothing?" He teased in a strained murmur, his other hand making its way north, brushing over her breast and across her collarbone to grip the side of her neck.

 She groaned in appreciation her kegel muscles flexing around his fingers as added testimony to her 'thanks.'

 "That, too." She rebutted finally, her hand dipping under the waistband of his pants to grip his cock directly, thumb padding over his tip before she reached further south and massaged his testicals, something she had discovered to be      very    effective with him. Apparently, his hair follicles weren't the only unusually, overly-sensitive nerves in his body, even as far as the male reproductive system went.

 "If I wanted fingers, Mr Holmes, I'd just do it myself,      again    ." She half-teased/half-jested clippedly.

 His lips parted in a low moan at her new focus, arching up on his toes almost without thought to encourage her actions. He refocused on her quickly though, despite his laboured breathing, bringing his fingers out before delving them back in deeper than he knew she was capable of, just for spite, satisfying his own selfish wants more than anything. Slowly pulling them out in earnest, his thumb nail grazing her clit in parting.

 He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking her flavour from them, his eyes locking on hers in preemptive warning. Savoring her response for only a moment, as he let the digits slide from his mouth, his hand quickly latched onto the slender wrist that was still on the inside of his pants, yanking it free to give him the freedom to crouch in front of her, hands moving to stroke up her thighs.

 A shudder swept down the back of her spine as she watched him taste her juices, pupils dilating even further at the arousing, not to mention       flattering    , sight.

 Her breath caught in her throat, however, as she watched him kneel in front of her, her mind suddenly realising what it was exactly he was planning on doing. He hadn't done that since the time before last--Paris being far more frenzied and rushed.

 "Eating      out    , then are we?" She couldn't help but joke, though her voice was shaky and more than a little unsteady, as she brought her hands to curl in his locks lightly.

 His lips were brushing her inner thigh tauntingly as he murmured in response, "You are in my kitchen," biting into the flesh briefly before his arm curled around her hip, angling her pelvis towards the edge of the counter so it was as exposed as could be without her falling, giving her one long swipe of his tongue from her entrance up to her nub. He repeated the action, darting inside of her briefly along the way.

 "It would be wrong not to partake," he rumbled against her before his lips latched onto her clit, sucking it into his mouth as his tongue dashed against it.

 She let out a series of successive moans and gasps, her back arching as she jutted her hips forward at each lap and suckle of his tongue and mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she exhaled slowly, trying to gather herself before responding jaggedly, "Well, who am I to argue with      that     logic...." She gasped again and let out a soft whimper.

 "Fuck, you are skilled at that....      Almost    as good as I am...." She couldn't help but compliment him, despite knowing how even more it would inflate his bloody ego, the successive years of holding his 'V-Card' only making his sudden      gift    for the act all the more impressive      and     annoying.

 Hearing her make those bloody infuriatingly      distracting     noises was doing nothing for his ability to ignore his own arousal, and his hands tightened on her thighs in response. He growled as he fucked her with his tongue rather greedily, his amusement that she was actually going out of her way to      praise     his ability almost drowned in his focus.      Almost.  

 "I'd      love     to know how you'd be able to compare," he pulled back enough to quirk a brow tauntingly at her lack of logic, his lips twitching up into a brief smirk as he nipped at her once more before he stood to his feet between her legs, eyes just smug enough to be noticeable, which was less than his norm at times, already tugging his trousers from his hips.

 She quirked a pointed brow at him as her eyes narrowed, a single hand reaching up to grab his chin violently as she replied with mild acidity, "Don't even      think    about suggesting having a threesome, Sherlock. I      don't     share well.... Besides, I'd hate to show you up..." She winked teasingly before pushing his chin back to help him get his damned trousers off.

 "Now for fuck's sake,      dear    , will you      PLEASE    fuck me?" She half hissed/half begged.

 "Would scarce know with who," he drawled rather tellingly, he realized a bit too late, as he stepped out of the pants and trousers now pooled at his feet. He had yet to find another woman who could inspire in him what she could. If it was worth anything, his little faux-relationship with Janine just exemplified      that     in his mind. He couldn't even fathom taking anyone else but her into his bed, just as before her he couldn't fathom hardly anyone at all. But he dismissed that rather      sentimental     thought process as soon as his bare flesh met hers. He let out a brief groan as his cock pressed between her legs, no longer impeded by his clothing.

 "Though it occurs to me you may just be begging," he roughly mused, despite the fact his left hand had grasped her hip hard enough to bruise, and his right was already grasping his cock in hand, quite ready to do her bidding.

 She grunted at his first statement, as she wrapped her hands around his neck in preparation to mount him, nails digging into it's nape in silent response.

 She raised her eyes at his latter comment, however, before narrowing them significantly as she dug her heels into the top of his arse to jut him forward, thus successfully forcing their loins to 'greet' each other 'palm to palm.'

 "I could argue the same case about your physicality, Mr Holmes. Would you like me to? Or would you rather we concede and admit we      both    are begging for it and get closer to the part where I      sheath    that      throbbing     cock of yours..." She quirked a brow, and making sure the stress the two, more, graphic words to 'influence' his answer.

 "Touché," he rumbled unevenly, jaw flexing at the intimate contact. He managed to fight her legs' grasp long enough to pull back and grip his cock once again, his hand on her hip shifting back and under her arse for angle and leverage as his tip finally pressed to her entrance.

 "Though you've got to admire the irony," he quipped, intent on getting the last word, just as his hips bucked forward and he began to quickly press into the familiar heat of her, exhaling in a hiss at his perhaps faulty decision to nearly ‘sheath’ himself in one go. Patience was never his virtue.

 She was about to roll her eyes and let out a reluctant chuckle when his sudden, and      full    , thrust into her caught her slightly off guard, causing her eyes to widen and a sharp gasp to issue from the back of her throat.

 She winced as he filled her, his girth always a tad painful on the first few thrusts. She grunted and and pulled back to glance down at him in mock disapproval before murmuring, "....Perhaps the only--      ow    --good thing about our yearly rendezvous is that--      ahh    --every time manages to feel like the... first....." She muttered as she wrapped her legs around his waist and regripped before hoisting her chest up and against his, putting all her weight on his form now.

 Sherlock had nearly put himself into shock--nearly--but was regaining the ability to function as quickly as he was able. He took a shuddering breath, getting re-accustomed to the tight heat encompassing him, as she was apt to point out, he nearly always had to do. Pro or con to their unique status, he was never sure.

 "Apologies," he murmured as his head ducked and rested into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin before he began kissing and nipping at the skin by way of distracting her from the apparent discomfort.

 She arched her neck to allow him greater access, hands pushing down on his shoulders to hoist herself up a bit so that she could slam down again, knowing that once she was fully slicked up and the ball was rolling, so to say, the slight discomfort quickly gave way to pleasure.

 She moaned at his kisses and even found herself smiling privately at his 'apology,' an abundance of subconscious sentiment clearly at the root of it. She lifted his head up to look him in the eye as she replied with amused seriousness, "No need to do so, dear. Your ability to be,      irritatingly    , above average in all the necessary areas of life is just one of the many reasons why I      hate    you." She reminded him between heavy breaths.

 '      Hate    ,' of course, standing in for the word she really meant. The word that she knew he knew she meant. They had come to confess their feelings in this twistedly ironic way a few meetings back, as they were parting ways. Each adopting that preferred word to it's sister that the rest of the mundane world seemed so obsessed with employing. Besides, this way, they each, technically, had an out. Could always deny--'on paper,' at least. The look in her eye, however, and the sincerity of her voice, would damn her for all eternity, however.

 Funny thing was, though, when it came to '      The     Man,' she didn't actually give a damn about that old pride.

 He caught onto her obvious intent as quickly as he caught her weight, her quick will to begin in combination to her clear sentiment almost catching him off guard. But as opposed to playing the deer in the headlights, his lips twitched into a dazed if present smirk and he pressed her weight against the counter again for leverage as he urged her up and the thrust back upward to meet her as she dropped.

 "And I very much..." He thrust upward once again, quirking a brow. "...      Despise     you," he replied darkly, keeping a lightness to the statement as best he could manage, lest the sentimentality they were so seeking to avoid, decide to kick in.

 Her lips merely twitched at his reply before his thrust overcame her and she let out a rather vocal cry of a moan, her fingernails scraping up his back as she rode a rather sudden wave of mounting pleasure and warmth that was making its way from her core to her outer extremities.

 She glared down at him in utter infatuation and (self-) annoyance before barking out a shaky, "B-bedroom. Now. N-need.       More    ..."

 He didn't need any further encouragement, lifting her up with his arms under her arse and angling his weight, he stalked the short distance to the hall and kicked open his door with no hesitation, even at the worrisome creak. He'd fix it      later    .

 He hiked a knee onto the bed before dropping her weight onto it, barely retracting from her before he was on her again, arms on the mattress on either side of her head plunging back into her with an appreciative curse. The angle was much more satisfactory.

 Irene spread her legs as widely as she could as soon as her back hit the bed, greeting his first thrusts in this new position and place with as much reception as she could give him. Her hands flew out and tangled in the duvet cover, knuckles whitening as she let out a series of whines and 'oh’s’ without immediate presence of thought.

 "How...thin...are...the...walls?" She gasped in ecstasy, as she brought her right leg up to hook around his neck to provide him with even more room for depth, and also silently informing him of her compliance to don the 'submissive' role--      for now    .

 "Thick," he rumbled breathlessly, using her acquiescence to his advantage as he plunged further with an appreciative groan, ducking his head as he rocked forward, banging the headboard against the wall.

 "But...perhaps not thick enough," he husked with a certain amount of amusement in his eyes, arching onto his knees to thrust forward with a curve of his hips, deliberately trying to wring another moan from her for emphasis.

 She could tell what he wanted and was trying to get out of her, to which she more than happily gave him, and then some, crying out in an almost uncharacteristically 'sex kitten' fashion, "      Ohh, Mr Holmes....!"    followed by a few grunts and panting breaths as she wriggled beneath him. Her other leg coming up to throw over his shoulder as her head turned frantically to the side to bit into the pillow, a desperate attempt on her part to stifle her cries and whimpers of pleasures lest he be      too    pleased with himself.

 For, to be sure, despite the rather, 'porn-star-esque' response she was currently giving him--and one she hadn't much used with him, if ever, before--Irene Adler was      no    faker, at least, when it came to her personal, love life. Her response was utterly--even if embarrassingly so to her--organic. She only hoped the base, male, primitive mindset that he clearly had a little bit of would respond to these novel and 'conventional' reactions--if only      because     they were novel      for her    .

 She also was bound and determined to seek revenge in a few moments. No man would make her whimper like that and finish on top. Not even      Sherlock Holmes    , she mused decidedly.

 Her response merely spurred him on, for even under duress he could at the least read her for genuineness and she was fighting it now with a will, feeling another shock of pleasure strike him as he watched her reckless abandon. His focus staggered briefly, but he growled his way through a moan and thrust forward more quickly, feeling himself seek out those sounds now that she'd granted them. He leaned more upright, gripping her leg where it draped over his shoulder and nipping and licking up the expanse of it he could reach.

 "      Mmm... Sherlock....!"    She whined at his nips, the toes of her accosted leg curling in his hair as she arched her back up, to meet his thrusts.

 She allowed him a few more self-gratifying thrusts to which she returned with girlish moans and whimpers before, suddenly, bringing her right foot from his shoulder and halting his movement by planting her foot squarely in the centre of his chest. She sat up, placing her weight on her elbows as she glared at him evenly before pushing him back with a grunt and and moving to her knees to face him dead on.

 A hint of a smiled played on her lips as she raised her right brow slowly, running a hand up his chest before tangling it in his curls to yank his head backwards and up violently. She pressed her form against his and leaned up to hiss into his ear, "My turn, darling..." only to hook her leg around his as she twisted and pushed his figure back and down onto the bed, crawling on top of him to pin him against the bed in an act of dominance and possession.

 "Can't let you 'boys' have all the fun," she purred into his ear before sitting back slightly to run her slit along his length and tease his pulsating tip with her inviting warmth wickedly.

 He growled out a groan of surprise and aroused fury, even though he      knew     she was likely to play her card eventually. She had an annoying habit of lulling him into false security before striking. Infuriating woman. But she did stay true to her point and skillset he couldn't help but notice. She knew exactly what he 'liked' -- a challenge.

  She was sending sparks through his nervous system with his teasing, causing his hips to buck and his leg muscles to twitch. His hands flew to her hips, digging in hard in an attempt to end her torment, but all he succeeded in was increasing her friction, and he scowled helplessly. He could overpower her, but the fight was seldom worth it, or so he assured himself.

 Irene chuckled darkly, leering down at him lasciviously as she shifted her weight to her knees to lift her pelvis up and off of him completely, proving that      no contact    was even worse than then the ghostings of it.

 She then ran her hands up her thighs and hips, ripping his own off to grope herself, alone and unaided, toying with his clearly, 'regular,' male porn preference, as she employed the 'usual actions'--hands gliding up her waist to circle the sides of her breasts and swirl around her taut nipples, teasing herself and him by avoiding them for a bit.

 She pouted down at him, biting her bottom lip sensual before husking softly, "Oh,      Mr Holmes    , did you really think I was going to indulge your base, male fantasy for the      entire    time?" She circled her areolas before pinching and twisting her nipples suddenly letting out a whiney moan as she looked down at him in erotic amusement.

 "Don't get me wrong,      Sherlock    , I'll be your little slut, porn-star girl any day of the week...any way you want me...any fantasy you wish to play out...I'll even be your slave, if you fancy...      But,     just keep in mind, dear...." She began to warn gently, leaning down over him slowly as she slipped a hand between them to grip his length tightly, before continuing, "...Every time you make me      whimper     and      moan     and      whine     and      beg     like a little girl who      needs     more--which you do      quite     well, much to my chagrin, grant you--" She grumbled lightly, licking her lips as she winked, before finishing with, "...I'll make you do the same--      twice over    ." She hissed against his lobe, slamming herself down and around him as deeply as the angle would allow on her last words.

 He threw his head back with something not dissimilar from a roar, his hands clawing at her waist and his teeth clenching as he fought the throbbing ache shooting down his spine at the sudden move. Fighting to catch his breath, he finally gripped her hips again tightly and bucked up, in an attempt to counter her, but it hardly stood up to the challenge.

 "Lucky for me...have no need of slavery," he managed in a ragged, breathless rumble, having nothing to fear of that retribution at least. Who would ever want to tame this glorious, albeit      evil,     creature he couldn't say, but it would strain credulity to attempt.

 She grunted in approval of his statement as she leaned down to capture his lips with her own, nipping and biting them with a ferocity of a lioness in heat as she lifted and slammed her pelvic floor down against his, grinding it in place as she squeezed her walls around him with each go before abandoning his mouth to lean her weight back onto her centre--fully upright as he was sheathed at a full, and deep, ninety degree angle.

 She let out a subtle moan as she gyrated her hips in a circular motion, hitting each cardinal direction of her walls as she dragged her nails down his chest.

 "Mmm.... You remind me of my first horse, Mr Holmes. I was quite the equestrian. Dear me did he have a foul temper and was about as haughty as spoiled prince. But he was magnificent and quite the beast. 16.1 hands...about as tall as you.... However....I think I much prefer this mount..." She teased in self-amusement, as she began bob up and down on him in this new position.

 He found his body was following her lead of its own accord, bracing into her movements with a counter-rhythm no matter his inner rebellion.  He was fighting to keep his focus as she see seemed more than determined to rip it from him, and his eyes narrowed at her in challenge.

 "I suppose that's...a compliment," he ground out with obvious force, his hands starting to roam upward for distraction -- both hers and his own -- and cupped her breasts roughly, squeezing and trapping the bud of her nipples between his fingers.

 She exhaled a soft hissing sound as he groped her breasts, leaning into his pinches as she steadied her weight forward again, her hands splayed on his pectoral muscles as she began lifted and dropped herself around him faster and harder, beginning to feel herself lose control as the wave of climax climbed higher and higher, threatening to crash her on his shores any second.

 "      Fuck    ...I'm so close....Come with me, Sherlock..." She whimpered softly, her dominatrix persona forgotten in this sudden, heightened state of ecstasy with him.

 He growled in wordless agreement, unsure his tongue was even capable of forming them at the moment. She had a unique talent for driving him speechless that no one else had managed to possess, no more exemplified than at this very moment. He bridged his hips into her last few thrusts for the sake of it, giving her more stimulation for entirely selfish reasons, he was afraid. It drove him to bursting just as he felt her tightening around him.

 His groan was guttural and throat ripping and his lower abdomen clenched nearly to the point of pain as he finally let the wire snap, hands flying back to her hips, digging in and holding her tightly in earnest. He found himself leaning upward beneath her, as though the force of it pulled him from the pillows.

 Irene let out a guttural cry of sheer euphoria bliss as she felt him buck and come within her, her walls clenching around violently and successively, as if squeezing every last drop of      him     from his load was some unconscious goal of her womb.

 She threw her head back as another wave suddenly arrested her once more, a sharp whimper of appreciation escaping her throat before it was replaced by her weighty pants. She fell forward against him as she fought to catch her laboured breaths slowly.

 She wrapped her arms around his neck, barely able to feel her hands so overcome with pins and needles were they, before resting her forehead against his finally.

 She listened to their heaving inhales and exhales, their breathing power somehow syncing along with the beating of their hearts. She was tempted to roll her eyes and make some ‘disgusted comment,’ but decided to endorse the moment, for who knew when they’d be so joined again. With Jim back, the danger was ineffable once more.  

 His body slowly relaxed, and his eyes fluttered closed, feeling heavy and numb as he sank into the pillows once more, but her weight against him still felt heated and tingling. He found himself running his hands up the curves of her back subconsciously as their panting breaths mingled, her warmth bringing the feeling back into him. There were very few times Sherlock was ever relaxed, outside of the force of severe exhaustion, but she always managed it, even if briefly.

 "Do we always follow near-death experiences with nearly killing each other," he managed to quietly joke in a deep, if strained murmur, lips twitching faintly.

 She let out a half laugh, pulling back gently to ask out of want of clarification, “Firstly, I’d hardly call sex ‘killing each other,’ dear, quite the opposite, if I do say so myself. However, I will grant you that our means to the end differ significantly from the average pedestrian. But, we are not ‘the commonwealth,’ are we?” She winked before leaning down to nibble his lip playfully.

 “But I will grant you, the near-death thing seems to be, an annoying and unfortunate, set-up….” She sighed almost wearily, a soft sadness ending her tone before she added gingerly, “Perhaps, one day, it won’t be the necessary ‘aphrodisiac….’” She murmured wistfully, her index finger circling an obtuse pattern on his chest, not wanting him to remove himself from her just yet.

 He hummed slightly in appreciation at her touch, as well as in thought, his hand still tracing up her spine, in odd swirls and angles.

 "Seems 'motivation' is more appropriate. We hardly need aphrodisiacs..." He murmured in correction, with a faint hint of a smirk, though it was also a tad melancholy. "It typically takes one of us nearly being shot or decapitated to drive us across whichever continent divides us," he added in consideration. "And there is that pesky 'death' status we keep falling into."

 She leaned forward resting her elbows on his chest as she gently, and slowly allowed him to slip out of her before settling back down above his nether regions, resting her chin on his sternum as she replied drolly, “I meant it as metaphor, you cad….Believe you me, I’m      more than    aware at our ability to make any and every word, look, situation, and context highly…..      adult    .”

 She leaned pressed a kiss to his skin before glancing up at him once more to add, “...Mmm, I suppose      one    of us being alive on paper again might actually make things easier in the future… The double ghost was getting a bit absurd… Let’s not recall the horrendous blonde, bob cut wig I had to don just to get into the bloody Ritz in Paris…” She shuddered in hyperbolised repugnance.  

 "Not the most flattering," he winced playfully, making a rumble of disapproval in his throat. "Though that idiotic suit wasn't my finest hour," he added honestly and for fairness, rolling his eyes faintly. His hand settled on the small of her back, in a nearly casual manner.

 "Though, yes. At least one of us being legally present is quite helpful..." He stated in agreement, lips turning up at the thought. "At least we're not both scattering about the map."

 She laughed softly, “Yes, double breasted suits should be left in the 80s never to be seen or heard from again. And do try to stay alive, this time round, all right? For my       ‘appetite's’     sake, if nothing more.” She grinned, leaning up nip his nose playfully before rolling over on her back and stretching as she yawned faintly.

 “Mmm, I did miss your bed… Besides the one in my flat in Belgravia, I think yours is the most comfortable and      arousing     bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping in, shame you don’t indulge in the act.” She couldn’t help but jibe him coyly, nipping his shoulder just for the sheer thrill of it. She was feeling very frisky and, well, Christ,      happy    .

 He quirked a brow, but didn't question her excitement, quite frankly feeling a similarity. He gave her a teasing bit of a shrug, turning over on his side to loom over her slightly in an oddly quick motion in terms of his relaxed state.

 "Clearly you've remedied      that,    on a few different levels," he husked near her ear rather obtusely.

 Irene shivered softly as his breath hit her ear, sending goose pimples down her back. She leaned into him, frontside pressing against his as she toyed with his light chest hairs before murmuring in feigned innocence, "Oh please, I only drugged you the      one    time, and I'm sure you needed the rest... And it's not my fault the only time you are able to sleep on your own natural, biological accord is upon having mind-blowing orgasms at 'my hand...'" She winked as she glanced up at him quickly, hoping to see some amusement cross his face. She did love being one of the      few     people that could make him laugh and indulge his, albeit narrow, sense of humour--that wasn't vile or at anyone else's expense--except, perhaps, his own. Which, in itself, was a feet of Everest proportions with      his    egotistical personality.

 He chuckled briefly at her rather true-ish statement, rolling his eyes fondly. "Sleep is an elusive bitch at times, yes. Outside of drugs and injury, I typically need something to tire my mind and that's a rare accomplishment...relaxing it's even rarer." It was meant, however oddly, as a compliment, his fingers tapping out a rather subconsciously complex pattern on the skin of her side.

 She chuckled softly, burrowing her face into his chest as she took a deep inhale, indulging in the natural scent of him and those divine pheromones that he gave off.

 “Mmm, thank you, dear, I’m flattered, once again..” She murmured into his chest softly.  

 "Don't be," he murmured in a playful mockery of irritation, half-arsed at that, harkening back to his first response to his so-called flattery. It always sounded like foolish denial, and he played on it now, even as he let out a quiet rumble of appreciation at her moving closer, throwing his arm around her thoughtlessly. He indulged the sensation for a moment before shifting back a tad.

 "I'll be right back," he said simply into her ear, brushing his lips against it faintly, figuring his destination would be rather obvious as he reluctantly pulled himself from the sheets to stand to his feet, and pad towards the door.

 She hummed in appreciation at his sentimental ‘loo-parting,’ at one point utterly unfeasible that he would ever adopt such ‘sweetheart’ acts of behaviour with her. Like with most other things, however, he always managed to surprise her with his uncanny ability to evolve, even if it was to his minor ‘self-stated’ chagrin.

 She rolled over on her stomach as he left, tilting her head to the left to appreciate the view his exit so gratuitously gave her.  

 Once he was gone, however, she let out a melancholy sigh, glancing at the digital clock which glared at her the early morning time disdainfully. It was odd, the way she suddenly felt unwanted, or that she was out of place, at his, now that their coupling had finished. Although, to be fair, they never had only ‘dined’ one time--it usually at least hit the four or five mark, if not higher. Yet, out of some deep-rooted fear or anxiety she had the distinct feeling that to spend the night with him      here    , in 221b Baker Street, was somehow indicative of some ‘serious step’ in their ‘relationship’--whatever terms, labels, titles, and regulations that that term held with regards to them. Spending the night in all of their previous rendezvous was more than assumed, as they had always spent the night in some hotel or secretive meeting place. But now that they were back on English soil, and especially, his, personal soil she was not about to risk heartache at assuming, and assuming wrong, tonight.

 That being the case she, reluctantly, sat up, stretched and made her way down the hallway to the bag she had left on the couch, grabbing a pair of black jeans, leather ankle boots, and a black cashmere V-neck top, along with her lace undergarments, before padding back to his room to begin to change and figure out her next ‘moves.’

 He made his way back to the room fairly quickly, out of instinctive anxiety, and it seemed once again he wasn't wrong. He would've liked to have been, for once. He stood silently for a moment, watching her back as she moved to fasten her bra, and only then did he quietly stalk up behind her. His hand over taking hers and unclasping it beneath her fingers once again, he pressed her shoulder to turn her around to face him, urging her to let him remove the lace from her arms.

 "Get back into my bed," he said simply as a vaguely sardonic command, his very typical 'Sherlock Holmes' attitude returning, if briefly, with a challenging tilt of his head. "If for no other purpose, I have every intention of picking your brain in the morning."

 She locked eyes with him, a silent exchange flashing between then before a small, relieved smile tugged at her lips and she glanced down, blushing ever so lightly at her silly ‘female’ train of thought. He was a far better man than that, and they had come too far together now to still be      playing the game    , at least, the high-stakes emotional one--that was all settled now, more or less, apparently. The sexual, mental one--well, that was      always     in play, to be sure.

 “Clever boy. You passed ‘The Test…’” She teased him lightly, more teasing      herself    , however, in vocally acknowledging her corrected, unnecessary actions.

 Once her bra was off and safely on the floor, where it belonged, she wrapped her arms around his neck, a sultry haze beginning to cloud over her eyes, before grinding her pelvis against his as she challenged darkly, “Now then, Mr Holmes, how about breaking our previous record…?”  

 His lips turned up into a wicked, knowing sort of smile. She was of course calling her own bluff, and he was more than happy to let her, one of his hands easily bracing the back of her skull as he practically lifted her off of her feet into a seething kiss, partially even out of gratitude for her continued presence. One wouldn't think they'd been perfectly satisfied not too many minutes before, but that was, he supposed the nature of suppressing oneself to an annual coupling...or, a few.  Especially with them, it seemed.

 He had to wonder when exactly they'd managed to be considered oddly      monogamous,    at least on her end. It had never been an issue in his mind, but when she began bluntly insinuating she'd been bottling for his sake, he had always wondered. He'd never had the nerve to ask, or perhaps he just would rather not have known. But he was obscurely thankful for it regardless. He didn't have to look too far past her unbridled appetite to see the proof, or they'd never have managed to christen the rest of his flat, and manage to sleep in between, over the next 14 hours.

[bcdtouch-a]

mobile rules

rules are simple -- sorry they’re so long-winded! But they’re important.

I’m Tea! They/Them non-binary 28 years old!

I make my own icons and graphics. Please do NOT steal them.  I have worked hard making them!

This blog will contain sensitive topics.  I’m not going to water down Shigaraki’s character, so don’t expect anything less from me. Shigaraki will attack, maim, and kill. I prefer to respect the source material.  Topics that will appear on this blog: Murder, death, gore, other dark themes.

 Mun =/= Muse.  This should be obvious.  I don’t agree with everything my character says or does, and we do not share the same beliefs.  

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FOLLOWING & INTERACTING

朽  If I follow you it means i’m interested in writing with you!  It may take a while for me to gather the courage to talk to you.  I’m usually very shy with new people, but I like to try and jump in!

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朽 I prefer to interact with muses within the BNHA universe.  I may make exceptions, but for the most part, I would prefer if you have a BNHA verse!  

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OTHER STUFF

朽 VAGUE BLOGGING, EXCESSIVE OOC THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR BLOG AND DRAMA WILL GIVE YOU A UNFOLLOW/HARD BLOCK.  Please do not vague blog me if I unfollow.

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I have some triggers!

Child abuse - do not interact with me with anything of this nature unless it’s VAGUE (if you’re unsure about something PLEASE ASK).  Do not talk to me about anything of this nature ooc. Please.

Animal death/abuse

Creepypasta (mostly imagery like the horror faces/Jeff the killer type stuff. I’m okay with watching or reading it on my own time, but don’t bring it to me unexpectedly. Seeing it unexpectedly can mess with my anxiety)

FNAF

Alcohol (please tag any and all mentions)

Real life gore (mostly things like intestines and broken bones and deep wounds where the muscle is visible, etc. things of that nature.)

Religion and politics. Do not talk to me about these things unless it’s relevant to a PLOT or your character. Characters that are heavily influenced by religion or religious themes I likely will not follow.

I’ll add more when I can think of any but these are my major ones.

[chokememrstark]

Birthday Surprise // Assistant Verse Thorki

Words: 3,6k

Summary: Thor is confused when he overhears a phone call Loki makes and even more so when he later transfers a call from his bosses mother. After a bit of snooping around, he finds out that it’s actually Loki’s birthday and feels awful for not knowing and for making such an important day bad for his boss. He decides to do something to lift Loki’s mood, which doesn’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: bottom!thor, sub!thor, top!loki, dom!loki, blowjobs, smut, pwp (though actually it has plot this time!), drinking, aging (i guess?)

Notes: This was such a fun thing to write! It’s set in @thequeenoffish ‘s Assistant Verse, which seriously gives me so many thoughts and ideas that I had to write this scene. If you’re in need for some sub!bimbo Thor you have to read this, it’s absolutely beautiful!!

When Thor walks up to Loki’s office he can already see that his boss is on the phone, but he needs to pick up those papers for the new product line the marketing manager asked him to get, so he makes sure to be extra quiet to not disturb him. Loki barely acknowledged Thor’s presence, just nods at the pile of paper on the table, and continues to speak.

“No, Hela, I told you to not call me today, didn’t I? I don’t care about these things, I never did. What? Yes, thank you for reminding me I’m wasting my life. Of course I know. Do me a favor and skip the call next year, okay? Sure, you too.”

Thor doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s inevitable while he sorts through the papers to find what he needs. When he looks up Loki is massaging his temples, eyes closed and visibly annoyed. He knows better than to ask dumb questions, so he just leaves with what he came to get and doesn’t give into his curiosity.

Two hours later though, it’s sparked once more when he gets an unusual call on Loki’s line. He puts the woman on hold, pressing the button on his desk to speak to Loki.

“What now?” Loki groans frustrated and Thor frowns. “I’m busy.”

“Sir, I have a call for you on hold, from your mother?” Thor feels kind of awkward saying this because he knows literally nothing about his bosses family or private life, even more so when the first reaction he gets is another groan. “Do you want to speak to her or should I tell her you are in a meeting?”

“No, don’t do that,” Loki sighs after a few moments. “Put her through. God, this day just gets worse and worse.”

Thor does as he’s told, but he doesn’t know how to feel about it. After merely two minutes Loki rings for Thor to come to his office, which he does immediately of course. Loki sits at his desk just like before, fingers on his temples and even more annoyed than the last time.

“I don’t want any more calls today, Thor,” he says as soon as the door opens and looks up. “Tell them I’m in a meeting, tell them I’m dead, I don’t care. Unless it’s someone from the top management, I don’t want to talk to them.”

“O-of course, sir,” Thor mumbles surprised, but nods anyway. This is rare, Loki never rejects calls like this and he doesn’t remember seeing him so frustrated before either. “I can do that.”

“Good, now get out of here, I’m getting a headache and need silence.”

Thor makes sure Loki is not disturbed by any calls for the next few hours, slightly worrying about the whole situation. It gets even worse when Loki exits his office around four in the afternoon, announcing that he would leave for the rest of the day. Thor jumps up and asks if he wants him to do something, but Loki just waves his hand, saying: “Go home or wherever, I don’t need you anymore today.” He leaves without even so much as a goodbye, which is unusual even at his worst days.

Despite being told to leave, Thor stays for half an hour more. He feels kind of bad for following his nosiness by logging into the company’s personal files, but he needs to know if his assumption about Loki’s mood is right or not. Eventually, he finds the answer he expected, and it all starts making much more sense. It’s Loki’s birthday, his 30th to be precise, and apparently, it doesn’t go at all as he wanted it to go. Thor feels bad when he closes the files again and asks himself if he should do something about it.

Birthdays aren’t something everyone celebrates of course, but he does think this is a rather special one and he doesn’t like that Loki seems to have a miserable day. When he packs his things and makes his way out of the office, he wonders if Loki expected him to know and do something special, which is a thought that sends a cold shiver down his spine.

“Shit.”

He’s Loki’s secretary, he is supposed to know such things! How could he be so careless and not even think about this before? No, this is bad. Thor decides he needs to fix this mistake, even if it will end with Loki yelling at him for being so dumb to forget it in the first place. So, instead of going home, Thor calls a taxi to run some errands in order to make up for his lack of competence.

It’s already starting to get dark when the taxi pulls up in front of Loki’s place and when Thor gets out, he’s immediately greeted with ice cold rain right in his face. He quickly pays the driver and picks his stuff up from the back seat, before hurrying to the door. Ringing the doorbell turns out to be quite difficult, so eventually, Thor has to do it with his nose because his hands are full and he doesn’t want to put anything down into the mud.

Loki groans when the doorbell rings and actually flinches for a moment. Seriously, a visitor? Out of all days, this is surely the worst one to pick. Not only did both his sister and his mother had to call and remind him of his birthday, of course with Hela mocking him and calling him ‘middle-aged’ and ‘slowly running out of time’, he also had to come home just to find a damn gray hair on his head. He didn’t plan to get drunk originally, but this was the last straw. He’s down to his second bottle of wine within one hour and the effect finally starts showing when the doorbell disturbs his peace.

With a low growl, Loki puts down the half-empty bottle and stalks over to the door, ripping it open without even trying to hide his annoyance when he barks: “What?”

Thor didn’t expect such a harsh welcoming and is visibly startled, actually taking a step back. The two look at each other for a few seconds - Loki’s face slowly losing most of his anger and Thor drenched and still being rained on, awkwardly smiling and very uncomfortable.

“Thor?” Loki asks, blinking confused as he lets go of the door handle. “What the hell are you doing here? Did I forget to pay you or what?”

“I… well…” Thor stumbles over his own words, suddenly feeling really dumb for coming here. Loki clearly wants to be left alone, no wonder he’s mad. “I just… thought…”

“For God’s sake, Thor, speak!” Loki snaps and Thor flinches at the harsh tone of his voice.

“I… I got you some cake and wine,” Thor mumbles ashamed, stepping from one foot to the other. “For your birthday, I mean. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just leave again, but you can still have them if you want to.” He holds out the box and bottle in his hands, avoiding any and all eye contact.

Loki is silent for a full minute, completely baffled by Thor’s explanation. He has no idea why Thor knows about his birthday or why on earth he would think this was a good idea, but he can’t deny that he’s kind of flattered.

Thor eventually steps back, lowering his head because Loki doesn’t react. Not that he blames him, he understands, he just hoped that he might appreciate the gifts at least. He’s about to leave, looking at his feet when Loki suddenly speaks and he stops in his tracks.

“Wait, I can’t let you leave like that. You’ll get ill.”

Thor looks up confused. He totally forgot that he’s soaked from head to toes, but with the way Loki looks at him, he remembers again.

“Come inside, you’re gonna freeze to death out here,” Loki says and takes the cake out of Thor’s hands finally. He turns around, jerking his head to signal Thor to come, and after a moment of contemplating, Thor follows him.

Thor fears he might leave dirty footprints on Loki’s floor and quickly gets out of his shoes before following Loki into the living room. He immediately notices the bottles on the table, no glasses, and wonders if those are all from today, but the way Loki signals him to sit down kind of speaks for itself.

“Take your jacket off though, it’s leather, but it’s sensitive.” Loki turns and leaves the room without anything else, but Thor does as he’s told because the last thing he wants is to ruin Loki’s chair. After sitting down he doesn’t really know what else to do though, so he listens to Loki work in the kitchen and looks around a bit. He has been here before, but never actually inside, only picked up a few things every now and then.

Loki’s apartment is quite big and the interior is simple and clean, but it has something comfy to it at the same time. Thor likes Loki’s taste, which mostly consists of black and white with several gold accents. It suits him somehow, he doesn’t really know why. He’s actually so fascinated by what he sees that he only notices Loki returned when he hears a noise behind him. He turns around and realizes Loki brought plates and forks from the kitchen, as well as two glasses, and for some reason, he blushes slightly at this and shifts in his seat.

“If you come here unannounced, I’m sure you don’t mind staying for some cake and wine, right?” Loki asks and Thor quickly shakes his head.

“O-of course not,” he mumbles.

Loki smirks and opens the wine Thor brought, filling both glasses with it. Thor isn’t used to Loki doing such things - not that they ever had wine together, but usually he is the one who prepares things for his boss, not the other way around - and it makes him slightly nervous when he even cuts the cake and hands him a place with his piece.

As awkward as it is, the cake tastes very good, just like the wine, and while they eat, Thor slowly begins to relax a little again. Loki is obviously tipsy and empties his wine faster than Loki can process before getting a second, but he doesn’t seem to be as annoyed as when Thor arrived anymore. By the time the cake is gone, Loki is slumping on the couch, eyes slightly hooded and lingering on Thor in a way the other can’t quite identify. He tries to ignore it for some time, but it’s impossible to not be affected by it. Not in an uncomfortable way though, which is what confuses him.

Suddenly, Loki smirks and rolls his head to the side. There is something predatory in the way he looks at Thor and it makes the blond’s loins flare up.

“Did you really just come here to bring me cake and wine?” Loki asks, curious and slightly suspicious.

“You looked really angry when you left work, so I thought it might cheer you up a bit,” Thor explains his behavior, which surely comes off strange now that he thinks about it. “That’s all I wanted, really.”

“That’s too bad, really.” Loki shifts to sit more comfortably, spreading his legs a little while watching the other’s face closely. Thor gulps inaudibly, trying to keep his eyes directed at Loki’s face instead of allowing them to wander. “I hoped you had a different reason for your late visit.”

“A… a different one?” Thor mumbles, clearing his throat that suddenly feels dry and tight. “I… I don’t know what other reason I should have. I just… think birthdays should be nice, not sad.”

“They should be, yes,” Loki says slowly, arching his back with a low grunt. “And I know something that would make this birthday a lot better than it started out.”

Thor knows where this is going and he can barely hide the fact that he wants Loki to continue. Something inside of him woke up when Loki looked at him like that as if he is nothing but his prey. He shouldn’t be aroused by this thought, but he is, there’s no arguing about it. When Loki suddenly squints his eyes at him, Thor knows he needs whatever is coming next. It doesn’t matter what it is, but he needs it badly.

At first, Loki just signals Thor to come closer by crooking one of his fingers. Confused, but still curious, Thor follows the gesture until he stands between Loki’s legs. For a moment, his boss simply looks at him like this - tongue slowly licking over his bottom lip and his eyes dark and dangerous. Then, he speaks a single word with a dark, husky voice that breaks all of Thor’s defenses immediately.

“Kneel.”

By God, this one word alone creates a firework in Thor’s head and stomach that makes him obey embarrassingly fast. It almost hurts when he hits the floor, but Thor doesn’t care, not even a bit. He looks up at Loki, cheeks flushing and eyes full of need, and he doesn’t have any words to explain how incredible he feels in this moment. The tightness in his pants that came so suddenly only adds to his internal wildfire that now burns brightly.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” Loki asks, bringing a hand up and burying it deep in Thor’s blond locks. Thor can’t hold back a quiet moan at this and leans into his touch, hardly able to keep his eyes open. “Tell me, Thor, how badly did you want to touch me when I had you on your knees the last time?”

“Badly,” Thor gasps, gulping down hard when his eyes brush over the bulge in Loki’s pants. “So badly it hurt.”

Loki tucks on his hair, forcing Thor to look back into his eyes. They are hungry in a way that makes Thor’s head spin. “Show me,” he orders, coaxing another moan from Thor. “Now.”

Thor’s hands are shaking when he brings them up, so much he can barely open Loki’s pants when he tries. He can feel how hard he is under the fabric and he never wanted anything more than he wants this. It takes him almost a minute before he’s able to free Loki’s cock, a sight that makes him gasp and almost drool immediately. He licks his lips when he wraps one of his hands around it, heart stammering in his chest as if he just ran a marathon.

It feels like time has slowed down when Thor closes his eyes and leans forward, licking the drop of precum off the tip of Loki’s cock like the sweetest treat in existence. He can’t help but hum at just how perfect it tastes and when he closes his lips around him, Loki lets out a loud, utterly lustful moan. Thor’s head feels beautifully light, leaving nothing but the feeling of Loki’s perfect cock in his mouth, of his tongue tasting what he longed for for so long and of the intense heat that spreads throughout his whole body.

There is nothing about this that isn’t absolutely sinful and desperate, but Thor doesn’t care. He loves trailing his tongue along the shaft of Loki��s cock, feeling it twitch under his touch and to take him in deeper slowly, just a bit more every time he bobs his head. Not even when he begins to gag Thor stops, no matter than breathing becomes difficult like this. He wants all of him, wants to choke on Loki’s cock until he passes out if he can. It’s everything he imagined it would be and so much more, he just can’t get enough.

Loki does nothing to stop Thor, he is letting him do as he pleases, moaning deeply at his eager. When Thor finally takes him in completely, he lets out a quiet ‘Fuck’ that makes the blond shudder and suck him off hard, almost sending him over the edge immediately. He doesn’t want it to end already, but damn, Thor is incredible with his mouth, he’s making it difficult for Loki to keep it together.

Thor is absolutely lost in sucking Loki off. He gives everything he has, swallows him down to the point tears build up in his eyes before letting go just long enough to take a breath before going down on him again. There is something so intense about this, about the sounds he coaxes from Loki and about the thrill of pushing himself to his limits. He doesn’t even realize when he starts rutting against the floor, searching for friction to relief his painfully hard erection somehow.

Suddenly, Loki’s hand is back on Thor, trying to push him away. Thor can feel Loki’s cock twitch harder and his hips buck, but he doesn’t want to be stopped. He digs his fingers into Loki’s thighs, hollowing his cheeks as he takes him in all the way again, humming in delight when Loki gasps and groans beneath him. There is nothing he doesn’t want and he is determined to go all the way, sucking Loki off as skillfully and hard as he possibly can.

“Fuck, Thor!” Loki moans, nails digging deep into Thor’s shoulder when he finally loses it and cums deep down the blond’s throat. Thor almost cums on the spot himself, the overwhelming salty taste all that exists anymore and causing his loins to tense up so perfectly. He swallows down every last drop, unable to stop milking Loki dry even when tears roll down his cheeks and he can see black dots bloom before his eyes. Only when he is forced to get air he pulls back, head falling against Loki’s thigh and breath hitching and shallow.

Several minutes pass like this, with Thor trying to catch his breath and yet being unable to do it. He lets out a displeased grunt when Loki suddenly moves, followed by a clicking noise and, shortly after, Loki exhaling slowly and leaning back. Thor is still so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t dare to touch himself and in a way, it’s a sweet torture because none of his arousal has disappeared. Eventually, he can bring himself to look up, eyes glossy and lips slightly parted, with nothing but bliss on his face.

Loki’s arms are spread over the back of the couch, his hands holding a glass of wine in one and a gleaming cigarette in the other. He just looks at Thor for a moment before taking a drag. Thor’s eyes are fixated on Loki’s lips, on the way his jaw moves as he inhales, of his throat muscles tensing and relaxing again and even though he is completely against smoking, it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen.

“Get up,” Loki says after blowing out the smoke. He takes a sip from his glass when Thor follows his command, eyes not once leaving his. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Loki puts the cigarette out by dropping it into the glass and leans forward to out it onto the table. As he does, his face comes so close to Thor’s crotch that his cheek is brushing over his hard on and Thor lets out a cry of agony. He is desperate for release and Loki knows that all too well.

“Sir, please, I…”

“Shh, come here,” Loki hushs Thor when he leans back, pulling him close by his wrist. “You did so well, Thor, you deserve a reward.”

Thor shudders when Loki pulls him down, making him straddle his lap. He can barely hold himself up on his own, his legs trembling too much to support him in any way, but Loki takes care of that by holding him in place. One of Loki’s hands rubs over the bulge in his pants carefully, building up pressure slow enough to be both painful and amazing, and Thor can’t help but drop his head against the other’s shoulder. He forgot how to speak, he forgot how to do anything but moan like a needy bitch.

“Cum, baby,” Loki purrs into Thor’s ear, so close that his lips brush over his skin. “Show me that pretty face of yours when you’re moaning.”

As if he had waited for approval, Thor’s orgasm begins to build up under nothing but Loki’s demanding touch, without more than the friction created by fabric rubbing against his cock. Thor moans; he moans embarrassingly loud while cumming in his pants harder than he ever came before. It feels like forever and it’s just so good, he could pass out if Loki wouldn’t hold him so tightly and breathe down his neck.

“Such a pretty little whore for me,” Loki purrs, coaxing a soft whine from Thor, who leans even more into his touch. There is nothing about Loki’s words that would hurt him, not at all. He wants to be his whore, he wants to be his pet, fuck, he wants to be everything Loki asks him to be. Until now it was nothing but a fantasy, but now Thor knows this is what he craves.

“Only yours…” Thor whispers, almost too quiet for Loki to hear him. He does though and brushes a hand through the blond’s hair gently.

“That’s right, you are,” he murmurs, brushing his cheek against Thor’s slowly. “You’re mine.”

[impandagrl]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

Meeting a sweet, attractive, customer at work is an innocent enough coincidence. What could go wrong?

Home Is Wherever I'm With You - Part 1

This story starts off a little sweet and tame, but builds. I wouldn't call it a slow burn, but it might take a few chapters to get the feel for this fic. This is just where the story started, bear with me. If you'd like a list of known future tags/warnings, shoot me a message because they contain spoilers.

If you'd like to be tagged in subsequent chapters let me know. I have six chapters written so far, I'll be uploading them on a random as-I-have-time/energy-basis.

I would not have been able to write this story without guidance and encouragement from my wonderful, infinitely talented, and long-suffering betas @justawaywardwinchestergirl and Edge_of_Clairvoyance

I've tagged a few people who showed specific interest in the one thing I posted like a year ago; I have no idea if this is something you'd like, so I won't bother you with any other tags in the following chapters unless you let me know you want to be tagged.

This is my first A/B/O fic. I never thought I would be attempting this, but the story has been building in my head the last several months. It is just a story I wrote for myself. I wouldn't say it's traditional anything, although there is smut in later chapters. I do my best to separate the smut from the story so those who want to skip those scenes can do so without it interfering with following the plot. Or, I guess if you only want to read the smut with minimal plot, it would work for that too . . .

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Meet cute, Fluff, Possibly triggering if you've worked customer service, Mild Hurt/Comfort

“One large americano with a vanilla scone…” the customer in question came to retrieve their order, barely sparing her a glance. Well, they hadn't yelled at her, or tried to hit on her; she was going to call that interaction a win. She was still trying to shake off her encounter with one particular alpha earlier, whose deodorant had been overpowered by the sour tang of his ill-temper - the scent of which was still lingering in the air.

Her migraine was starting to flare up again and she still had several hours to go before this nightmare of a shift was over. She saw yet another customer approach out of the corner of her eye and mustered up the brightest smile she could before turning to face them. It wasn't their fault she was exhausted and in pain, or that she'd had to deal with a string of rude customers.

“Good afternoon! What can I get you?” her heart stuttered, but she was pleased to note she kept her voice and facial expression steady. He had to be one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen. He had a smile for her as well and she braced herself against the counter, taking a moment to catch her breath under the force of it, combined with dazzling hazel eyes, gorgeous hair, and the perfect amount of scruff.

“Thank you, I'd like a medium black coffee. For here, please.”

“Coming right up! Would you like to try a quinoa muffin? The cranberry orange is delicious . . .”

His expression turned thoughtful and she found it almost as adorable as his smile. “Sure, why not? Thank you,”

“May I have your name for the order?” She waited expectantly.

“It's Sam.”

“That'll be $3.83, Sam.”

He gave her a five and declined the change.

She was granted another smile and a thanks when she presented him with his order a couple of minutes later and he took it to sit alone at one of the tables, grabbing two cream packets on his way over. In between helping other customers, she caught a glimpse of him reading from a worn, hardback book, taking careful sips of his coffee, but she didn't see him leave.

That cute guy with the nice smile stuck with her as a bright spot in her otherwise dreary day, but she didn't think much else about it.

Next week her Thursday shift was going a bit better, but that didn't mean she didn't get a thrill when she saw chestnut brown hair and twinkling eyes over the shoulder of the customer she was currently serving.

“Well, hello, Sam! What can I get you today?”

She was rewarded with a grin like pure sunshine, and she was surprised to note his eyes seemed more blue this time. “A medium black coffee, please. And, that quinoa muffin was delicious, did you say they come in other flavors?”

“Let's see, besides the cranberry orange, we have blueberry lemon, cinnamon apple, and coffee nut.”

“I think I'll try the apple - for here, please,”

She was heating up his muffin when he cleared his throat behind her. She turned to see a bashful smile. Gah, did he possess any facial expressions not specifically designed to steal her breath away?

“You know my name, but I don't have yours . . .”

“Oh,” She reflexively reached down to fix her nametag. The darn thing was always getting twisted around until it was unreadable. “Y/N, sorry about that.”

“No worries, just be glad I wasn't with the name tag police, I would've had to write you up,” the sarcastic humor on his face made it difficult for her to rein in her laughter to a polite chuckle.

She handed him his order and he looked - adorably - chagrined, “Sorry, that was terrible. I'm ashamed.”

“Not at all!” He gave her a reproving look that, even in jest, left her weak-kneed, “well, maybe a little, but there's no need to apologize: it *was* funny,”

“You're too kind. I'll see you next time, Y/N,”

Next time!? She would not say no to seeing him again, but did that mean he was specifically looking forward to seeing her again? Was this going to be a regular Thursday thing? She wouldn't say no to that either. She felt a fluttering in her stomach causing her to muse ‘uh oh, Y/N, I think you're in trouble. . .’

She couldn't believe she'd let her hopes get up so high, but she didn't even want to admit to herself how disappointed she was when the next Thursday came and went without any sign of her favorite customer.

The following Monday was hellish, and she could have sworn her week just went downhill from there. She couldn't help waking up a little hopeful that Thursday that Sam would make an appearance. She could use a pick me up.

Those good thoughts were driven from her head the moment she walked through the door. Her manager, Terri, was there freaking out because the GM had popped in for a surprise visit. The manager started in on her, insisting that she was late, even though she'd definitely arrived two minutes early. Terri then followed her around as she set up the store to open, criticizing every move she made. “Is it so hard to just use common sense?”

She swore she was going to end up punching her manager, or yelling back before the day was done, and she could not afford to be fired.

Then her coworker showed up (late, as usual, but of course Terri had nothing to say about that) and proceeded to spend most of the morning whining about personal stuff and avoiding doing any work, instead of actually pitching in to help her.

Of course the morning rush was brutal and didn't even slow down enough she could take a lunch break. Finally, a customer who had clearly asked for an iced mocha, went ballistic because, “I ordered a hot mocha! It's freezing in here, why would I want it iced? Are you deaf, or just too stupid to understand the difference between hot and cold?”

Terri swooped in, “I'm so sorry for the mix up! We'll definitely make it right, your hot mocha will be on the house! I'll make it myself; it'll be out right away.”

Y/N didn't hear any more, because she was heading for the restroom trying to keep her head up and hold back the tears until she reached her refuge. Damn it! The ladies room was locked. Not only would she have to wait, but whoever was in there would be able to see she was on the verge of crying when they passed her coming out. She turned, not sure where to go, and ran into a solid chest.

Two hands loosely gripped her upper arms and held her carefully as she caught her balance and looked up into Sam's face. His expression was full of concern (Yep, still too beautiful for words for those keeping score at home) and he didn't make a move to let go for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?”

She'd had such a suck-fest of a day, and he felt like safety, and care, and . . . home.  She nodded and then, ridiculously, the dam broke and she just burst into tears. He held her closer to him and shifted one of his arms so it was supporting her back. Within a couple minutes, she became aware that she was sobbing in a customer’s arms and, out of sheer mortification, forced herself to regain control, managing to mostly stop the tears. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

“You don't have to apologize.”

“That was so unprofessional . . . And I got your shirt wet,” she pointed to the damp patch in the middle of Sam's shirt, horrified.

“Honestly, it's fine, you've obviously had a day.”

She let out a weak chuckle. “You could say that.”

He steadied her and tentatively let go. He reached out a hand as if to touch her face, but pulled back at the last second, so that just the tips of his fingers brushed her cheek, wiping at a tear that was still streaking down it, “Do you have a break or something any time soon?”

She nodded, trying not get lost in his kaleidoscope eyes, “I'm supposed to get fifteen minutes for lunch.”

“Would you see if you can take it now, and join me?”

“I would be interrupting your reading time, I'm afraid . . .”

“You wouldn't be interrupting anything. If you don't feel up to it right now, I completely understand; I won't be offended, but I'd like it if you sat with me.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sam nodded, “Thank you. I'll meet you in that corner booth?”

“Okay.” they both seemed hesitant to leave, but with a little nod Sam got in line to order, and Y/N went to let Terri know she was taking her lunch break.

Terri gave her a judgemental look meant to make her feel like she was slacking, but even her sour manager couldn't deny she was overdue for her break or legally say anything about it.

It was when she was grabbing her lunch from the break room that she stopped in her tracks as it dawned on her why that feeling of warmth and safety had come over her when Sam had touched her; why she even now felt uncomfortable standing still when he'd instructed her to do something. Her new friend was alpha. She really was in trouble.

But did that really change anything? She'd never met an alpha she felt that comfortable around - that's why it hadn't clicked right away. He was sweet and kind, and thanks to the best suppressants she could afford, she was safe from unwanted advances. And she was in a crowded coffee shop for crying out loud! She deliberated only a second, before heading over to wait at the corner booth.

Sam slid into the other side of the booth a few moments later with his plate and coffee. “I'm afraid you're probably sick of everything here, but I got two of the coffee nut muffins, just in case.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “I'll have one, thank you very much.” She caught a better glimpse of the book he had tucked under his arm. “The Two Towers? Are you a Tolkien fan?”

“Yeah, just rereading it for fun. You?”

She nodded, enthusiastically, “I love them. The movies are great, but they really short-changed several of the characters; there's just no beating the originals.”

“Oh, they butchered Faramir, for one!”

“Seriously! I was so pissed about that! I can watch them now, though. It sorta taught me not to demand perfection of movie adaptations. You have to treat them as separate entities. If you can't, don't bother watching them, you'll just be disappointed.”

“That sounds like good advice.” he chuckled.

“Sorry, I know I get too into that sort of thing.”

“Please, you don't have to apologize! It's refreshing, honestly, I've never been able to talk about Lord of the Rings around my brother.”

“Oh? Because he doesn't approve? Or he has a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion, and speaks Sindarin?”

Sam burst into surprised laughter, “Um, the first one, definitely! Although, I don't know, he's becoming more open about the ‘nerdy’ things he likes these days.”

“That's good. Life's too short to not enjoy the things you love. Are you and your brother close?”

“Yeah. I mean, we lost our mom young, and our dad passed a while back. We're all we've got.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, he's pretty great. Just don't tell him I said that.”

“I would never!”

“What about you? You close with your family?”

“Um, I used to be. I haven't seen any of them in a while.” She didn't mean to sit awkwardly quiet after that, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

He seemed to read in her face the desire for a subject change, “So do you?

“Do I?”

“Have a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion and speak Sindarin?

It was her turn to laugh, “I always meant to read it, but I could never finish it.”

Their talk moved to other books on their favorites list and they were able to find quite a few that they had in common. Finally, she looked at her watch, “Shoot! I have to go, before Terri has a conniption. Will you be here next week?” The question had slipped out before she could think better of it, but he didn't seem to think it was weird or prying.

“I'm not sure. I travel for work, and I never know when I'm heading out. If I'm in town, I promise I'll stop by.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Sam. Today was going pretty terribly before you got here. Not everyone would do what you did.”

“I'm glad I was there to help. You made my day too, you know? I'll see you next week, hopefully.”

She waved and rushed back behind the counter before Terri could come looking for her. Not even her snippy boss could bring her down the rest of the day. A hot, kind, sweet alpha, that made her feel safe, bought her muffins, whose smile was like the sun coming up, and he was a book nerd? Oh yes, she was in deep trouble.

This way to Part 2

@pinknerdpanda @neversatisfiedgirl @amanda-teaches