#D-Day Torrent

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[starrydragoness]

Hii, i hope this doesnt sound too weird or anything (im really new to requesting), but can i request a safeword scenerio for dr Ratio? Maybe he is uptight because of some idiots he had to deal with, or nervy because of overworking, and in bed he starts to talk and move harsher than usual, making his s/o safewording. If possible please also how he would take care of them afterwards, thank you :D!

A/N: Thank you for your request! I do hope this is what you had in mind :) Implemented some of my own hcs into this, so I do hope Ratio isn't too OOC. I just don't see him as mean or harsh with his s/o as I see some people portray him as- Gosh I can ramble sm about him, I'll stop here. Please send more Dr Ratio asks/requests in, I'd love to ramble about him

Content: NSFW, mdni! Ratio being a secret sap inside(?), gn reader but can be hinted at female anatomy, no pronouns used

Fervent thrusts of his hips into yours knocked the air out of your lungs, sending your eyes rolling back into your head as shameless moans flew from your mouth in a torrent. Veritas seemed completely insatiable, groaning into your ear and whispering dirty things.

“You’re so tight, did it take so little to get you all wet and worked up, hm?” It was like he was scolding you.

You could’ve guessed how his day has been, judging solely from the bruising grip he had on your hips. You would’ve asked about it had he not all but cornered you and stolen your breath away with an onslaught of kisses and nips to your neck and chest. Clothes were torn off from you and him all the same, but somewhere along the lines it became apparent his frustration began to blur, work anger seeping into this intimate and vulnerable moment as his hips pistoned into yours with little regard. It wasn’t like him, in all his stubbornness and in all pursuit of knowledge he’d never treat you like a piece of meat. He had made a mess of you, a heap of flailing, boneless limbs and hickeys and bite marks along your collarbone and chest.

A lewd squelch accompanied the slapping of skin as his cock rammed into you. “Ve-Veritas-” you panted, hands moving from around his back to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and leaving behind red crescent moons. “Slow down, ngh-” Those words fell on deaf ears, your moans and small whimpers being the only thing echoing in his mind. One of his big hands unlatched from your hip and came up to your throat, his fingers squeezing lightly on the sides until you felt yourself getting dizzy with pleasure, but it was all too suffocating, too overwhelming and so overstimulating, you felt your heart race and cold sweat break over your skin. 

Veritas groaned into your ear before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, bottoming out inside you over and over and over again until he felt you squeezing his shaft and fluttering around him. 

“Y-Yellow! Yellow!” 

Veritas quickly lost his hold on your neck, his body reacting faster than he had time to process it. All he knew is how uncomfortably tight his throat became when he heard you squeak out the safe word, his whole stomach churning as he pulled away. And only then did he really see how reckless he had become.

Your teary eyes stared up at him, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths to quell the fire within your lungs. You swallowed thickly, averting your gaze in what you could only understand was embarrassment but as he stumbled over wordless questions, his mouth opening and closing as he slid himself out of you and all pleasure forgotten, you couldn’t help but look back at him and open your arms in a silent plea for a hug. "Just hold me.."

He obliged without a second thought, his big arms enveloping you in a warm embrace, but he was hesitant to touch you after hearing the safe word fall from your mouth. 

He rolled onto his side, dragging you with him and letting your curl up against him however you wished as you hid your face in his chest. One arm was safely secure around you while the other hand absentmindedly ran through your hair, soothing your nape in hopes to bring you further comfort.

“My.. dearest.. What have I done? Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?” his tone, much softer and so full of concern, licked at your ears and sent a shiver up your spine. He sounded more hurt than you.

Once you regained your breath you broke away from his chest and looked up at him, all disheveled and messy with eyes still glassy. 

“I’m sorry.. But you were.. quite overwhelming- You came home and you wanted to be intimate, and that’s okay. But you were starting to take out your frustrations on me, Veritas..” you told him earnestly. There were no lies between you, and Aeons knew he’d know if you lied to him. He grimaced at your words, not because you said them, but because he couldn’t believe he allowed himself to fall that low. You felt him huff, felt his warm breath against your skin and he pulled you closer. 

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for- It is me who should be saying so. And I am so sorry.. I.. I don’t know how I lost myself so..” he trailed off, his eyes swallowing you in their plea for forgiveness or perhaps they were telling you to scold him - he really didn’t mind, as in his head, right now he felt as if he betrayed your trust. His facade of perfection crumbled as he gave into these animalistic urges and he hurt you along the way.

Sighing, you pushed yourself up a little until you could peck his cheek. His lashes fluttered as he took in the sight of you, blinking at you before leaning in to press his lips against your, the palm of his hand resting on the small of your back and pressing you against his warm body.

“Are you hurt?” he asked again, looking into your eyes. 

“Sore.. probably gonna turn into a plum later from bruises-” you tried to lighten the mood with that little joke but Veritas instead let out a sound bordering between a sigh and scoff, clicking his tongue as frowned, angry at himself. “I’m sorry…” he whispered as his arms dragged you along with him and his other hand pressed at your nape to pull your head to his lips. One, two, three, four and many more kisses fell all across your face, making their way all around before reaching your lips, upon which he placed the softest of kisses.

“I’m sorry.. I'll.. You stay here while I go and draw us a bath. I’ll be quick” He’d say as he pulled a blanket over you before sliding from underneath you. 

“Don’t forget the bath salts” you smiled, teasing him and holding onto the fingers of his hand, not allowing him to peel himself away from you just yet, and this prompts a smile to tease his lips but he is not yet ready to really forgive himself until he has soothed your bruises away.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes while his cheeks flushed as he pulled away after nodding his head firmly in return

“When have I ever forgotten the precious bath salts?”

Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Family Drama

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

To Abarxsis one’s family was something sacred and meant to be treasured. It contained those who were with you from the first moments of your age and would join you along your journey through time longer than any friend or colleague could. It was a feeling he held onto greatly and shaped the foundation of who he was. It was a trait he was glad to see shared amongst many humans as they too sought out family to such an extreme that they would pack bond with anyone or anything to obtain that sense of unity. Yet it was with some great surprise that when he inquired about his human lovers’ family they would refuse to even mention them.

 Whenever the topic of family was brought up their mood would shift like a switch had been flipped and all the joy and expression of them would bleed away and be replaced with a cold chill. Abarxsis learned that it was unwise to bring up the topic, but he still could not let it go until he knew why they were so against their own kin.

One night, Abarxsis was watching human entertainment while his lover slept and saw a strange situation unfold. The protagonist, like his lover, also was estranged from their family and refused to meet them. So the other characters surprised them by inviting their family over without telling them so the two parties could reunite and make peace once more.

This notion of restoring unity gave Abarxsis the idea that he could do the same for his lover and so he set out to track them down himself. It took several months of messages and follow ups until finally he had tracked down their family. When he mentioned that he wished for them to reunite they were thrilled at the prospect and agreed to meet them for dinner.

The day finally came and Abarxsis had taken his lover out under the pretext of a romantic dinner. When the pair arrived the rest of the family was already waiting at the table. They stood and smiled as the pair approached and extended hands of friendship, but Abarxsis noticed his lover had remained frozen at the doorway.

A myriad of emotions went across their face as their eyes focused on the family. Their hands tightened into fists as they looked slowly from the table to Abarxsis, who was still smiling, and glared at him.

“You did this?” she asked through clenched teeth.

The smile quickly fell away from Abarxsis’s face as he realized something was very much wrong.

“Abarxsis did.” He confirmed. “Abarxsis saw how talking of family upset Kelly, so Abarxsis-“

Kelly turned and left the room without hearing out the rest of his reasoning. He turned back and saw Kelly’s family looking confused and went after his lover. She stood out in front of the restaurant pulling out her communicator to summon a hover cab.

“What is wrong?” Abarxsis asked as he came up behind her. Kelly’s head turned to him to see it now awash with rage and anger….and betrayal, much to Abarxsis’s surprise.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about my family.” Kelly began, her fists still clenched tight. “I had made it perfectly clear that I had no desire to speak with them, or speak of them, or even be near them from the moment we met.”

“Abarxsis know’s this-“  Abarxsis began but Kelly held up a hand to forestall him.

“You don’t speak,” she remarked harshly, “just stand there and listen because I am about to be as fucking direct as I can possibly be.”

Kelly only swore to Abarxsis when she was truly angry so Abarxsis remained silent as she continued.

“My family……”,she stopped and collected her thoughts for a moment as if a torrent of words wished to flow all at the same time from her mouth, “are nothing but parasites; and I have not wanted them near them since the day I left their hellhole of a home.”

“They have leached off me financially, mentally, and emotionally all my life. I was the only one to hold a stable job and they expected me to pay for them while they sat around and did nothing. I was the one they came to when they were dumped by their lovers after they found out they were cheating on them. And when I told them I wanted no more part in their problems they berated me by telling me without them I would not even be here so “it was the least you can do to be grateful”.”

Abarxsis had seen his lover angry before but this was something else. This was not just simple disdain or annoyance; this was a deep rooted hatred that ran through the core of Kelly’s being.

“I left,” she continued, “because it was the only way I could be free from their toxicity and now, despite me telling you otherwise, you have brought that toxicity back to me.”

“But..” Abarxsis spoke unsurely, “they are still Kelly’s family.”

“You were my new family.” Kelly laughed without joy and fixed him with a cold stare. “They stopped being my family the day I left them.”

A hover car slowly pulled up and the door popped open for Kelly. She started to enter when the rest of the family came out and started calling out to her.  Abarxsis watched Kelly look back at him and see her expression now one of disappointment and sorrow, before she entered the hover car and closed the door behind her.

The hover car pulled away as the family came up and began calling out Kelly’s name while shouting recent needs for money or how disappointed they were that she hadn’t spoken to them in so long. Once the hover car was out of sight the family then turned on Abarxsis making the same demands. Abarxsis looked at them with confusion as this was not what a family should be. The love and support he had felt from his was nowhere within the eyes of Kelly’s former family.

Abarxsis came to understand why Kelly did what she did and realized that despite their constant need to pack bonding and need for family, the human concept of family was something not as simple to define.  

[bunmurdock]

heyy friend !! just wanted to ask for the sake of all the fan girls out there: what is ur fave spicy thought of the day😚

HAI!

i'll be so honest. dark!matt murdock red suit sex >.>

i've had this silly thing in my drafts for ages and at this point it might never get published bc it's not to my full liking, so i figure i'll jus do it here with bits and pieces i like :I

cw: dark!matt murdock, orgasm denial, overstimulation

he had come back early tonight, hadn't he? he’d stood there at the window, chest heaving, intensity high, silhouette large and uninviting. you’d gone to greet him, dressed in only his t-shirt which fell down to your thighs. rubbing at your sleepy eyes, you’d reached for his mask when he grabbed your wrist mid-air. he’d all but tossed you on the bed, and pulled you into his lap, teeth scraping at your neck and stubble pushing like tiny pins against pulse point. your shirt was pulled over your head, and he swirled your nipples with rough fingers, pinching a little too hard for comfort. there was the sound of a zipper, and then the blunt head of his cock was pushing past your entrance, dry. “relax.” you jerk, fingers gripping the sheets.  “gonna go in slow, ‘kay?” he says, lifting his hips, his rough fingers on your hips holding you in place. but it was anything but slow. “—’s too big, d,” you whimper, burying your face into his cowl.  he’d hissed at the friction, before working an arm under each of your spread thighs to lift your body up and down his cock. you’d cried, your legs quivered in his hold, while he thrust up so fully into you the neon lights outside blurred bokeh in your field of vision. you came quickly at the sheer speed and force of it all, and then he had you back to his chest, still pounding into you, and it was around the time he’d worked a bicep around your neck that the memory faded to black.

later, on your back:

“please,” your voice is a choked plea, fingers twitching toward him, craving more contact. he leans forward just enough to dangle the possibility, bringing his face close enough that you can see the sharp angles of his mask, the glint of the horns above his brow. with a smirk tugging at his lips, he lets you think you’ll get more. your fingers brush the hard edge of his chest, desperate for some anchor in the torrent of sensation. but just as you start to grind up harder, chasing that sweet release, he pulls his leg back, leaving you empty.

later, grinding on his ribbed thigh:

he presses your soaked core firmly against the hard ridges of his suit, the cool tactical material unyielding and rough in all the right places. your hands fly to his helmet, hugging his head and gripping the horns tightly for balance. you start to grind against him instinctively, the scent of leather and sweat filling your lungs. “faster.” your legs shake uncontrollably. his arms around your waist tighten, locking you against him as he rocks you back and forth, dragging you closer to the edge with every measured movement. “faster.” “you're gonna go until you break.”

masterlist | share your mm fantasies

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

[hazelfoureyes]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

THE FINALE OF KINKTOBER IS HERE

Keep your eyes open for the other coven members posting today, as we’re all trying to get the same prompt out as a finale! The prompt in question?

Ducky Ball Gag

Coven: @fraugwinska @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes @macabr3-barbi3 @synamartia (banners by Syn!)

Masterlist for Kinktober (Thank you Syn!)

Kinktober 2024 - Day 31 - Ducky Ball Gag

Alastor punishes Luci for saying his intimate pet name in front of everyone.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

「warnings/promises: RadioApple, smut, ducky ball gag, humiliation, spanking, finger fucking, rutting, Alastor is big mad」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

MDNI 🦆 🤫

“Happy Birthday, Ducky!”

Lucifer’s voice rang above the other’s, drowning out the ‘Alastor’ and making everyone turn to him. 

Alastor tried his best to move past it, clapping his hands contentedly and thanking the group for the unnecessary but appreciated celebration in his honor. 

“What a treat! Thank you Charlie!” Alastor grabbed both of Charlie’s hands, directing everyone’s attention back to him. 

“Hey, we all chipped in, asshole.” Angel pushed all his weight to one leg and crossed the top set of his arms. Husk rolled his eyes, looking at the half finished banner Angel and Niffty painted. A small chip. 

As Charlie excitedly showed him the cake he had no intentions of eating, he rested his hands behind his back and picked at the skin beneath his fingernails. Lucifer would need to be punished. He knew their pet names, Dove and Ducky, were strictly for private use. Yes, he used it in a very adorable fashion, but still. He’d need to be reminded how seriously Alastor took the privacy of his more personal relationships. 

Niffty went through several handkerchiefs dabbing away the limitless sweat pouring down Lucifer’s forehead. “You sure are wet, sir.” She said it with a fervor that made Luci’s skin crawl. 

“Yeah, maybe you should tell your ducky about it.” Angel snickered, hopping from his seat and rolling over the bar into Husk’s unprepared arms in time for his barstool to burst into flames. 

Red eyes flitted to see if Alastor heard the comment, and though his back was to the group as he nodded along to something Charlie was rambling about, his ears were turned nearly entirely around to face Lucifer. 

“Even wetter!” Niffty screeched, rifling around in her bucket for a sponge. Lucifer used his heel to her forehead to keep her away from him. 

Fuck. 

Fucked. He was fucked.

He had reacted so dramatically when Alastor first called him ‘Dove’. Alastor made it very clear that evening that it was a petname purely for Lucifer’s ears alone. If he felt that way for what he called Luci, what would he do when his own saccharine moniker was shouted to the hotel residents?

Another torrent of sweat. Perhaps edging him until he nearly blacked out? Or maybe worse, the cold shoulder. Making Lucifer sleep alone and suffer through his nightmares without an anchor back to reality. 

Alastor couldn’t kill him, of course, but some things were worse than that for Lucifer. A lonely bed, for one. 

Having known the comfort of a lover for so long, then to lose it,’was hard. The idea of doing it a second time, ah, the errant tear got lost in the mix of its salty brethren. 

The candles were blown out, Alastor was given a pocket watch, and everyone eventually left for bed. 

Lucifer waited anxiously in his tower to the left of the hotel. Every night Alastor would be allowed to enter his domain, typically rising from a pool of shadows. There wasn’t a set time, but there was a normal routine they came to follow. So waiting was a little silly, not that he could help it. 

But sure enough, Alastor appeared. Lucifer wiped his sweaty palms down his pants legs, “Heeeey there d— dear birthday boy!” He approached and opened his arms for an embrace. Sex wasn’t a given with Alastor, but he almost always had a hug and a kiss for his king. 

A hand came up and stopped his advance, “Your majesty.”

The king whined, he was only ever called that in public or when Alastor was angry. 

“Al! I’m sorry! I was just– I got overwhelmed in the moment!”

With a tut of his tongue, Alastor walked around Luci to the foot of his bed and sat on the cushioned bench where they usually took off their shoes and clothes. 

“Do you want to make it up to me?” He was removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

“Well, duh. Yeah. Of course.”

“Come here.” His head motioned to the space in front of him. When Lucifer came to stand there, he reached back into his jacket laying across the bed and pulled something out.

“Is that a rubber duck?” Luci’s concern over how upset Alastor was briefly flew out the window. It was…a duck. With some extra bits.

“This is a ball gag. The ball, however, is your favorite little knickknack. You’ll be wearing this for your punishment tonight.” With a devious grin, Alastor held it up by the leather strap and dangled it between them. The ball was indeed in the shape of a rubber ducky, with one small modifcation he was keeping secret still. “Turn around.”

A twitch to Lucifer’s cock reminded him how he got into this situation – an over eager reaction to seeing Alastor. He turned and swallowed hard before opening his mouth and letting Alastor get the gag buckled around his head. It wasn’t too big, but he knew he’d be aching soon enough. 

Breathing through his nose, he turned back and looked down to his lover. 

“Lower your pants and underwear, and lie across my lap.” When Luci bent down to take off his shoes, Alastor stopped him, “I didn’t say take off anything.”

A whine, another rebellious pulse of his dick at the tone and commands. Pants and underwear at his knees, he bent himself over Alastor’s long and slender thighs. He gasped when he was pulled over further, nearly tipping head first onto the floor. 

“I learned about birthday spankings today. I know traditionally those are for the birthday person, but I think you’ve earned them, don’t you?”

Lucifer didn’t have time to inhale enough breath to properly yelp as Alastor’s flattened palm smacked against his cheeks. When the air was forced out of his lungs with the strike, the gag made a tiny quack. Alastor’s cackle bounced off the walls at the sound, and he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

The spanking wasn’t the punishment. The gag was. 

Another hit, and this time he had the forethought to suck in a lung-full of air beforehand, the offending quack much louder as he moaned out through the bright yellow ducky between his teeth. 

Alastor’s hand made soothing circles across his small, reddening cheeks. The way Luci’s little feet kicked up with every smack was almost cruel with how adorable he found it. He wouldn’t be distracted though. Drawing his hand back, he felt Luci tense over his legs and chuckled. He was going to wait for his guard to drop first. 

A pathetic squeak of the gag as Lucifer released his held breath and Alastor brought his hand down for another harsh spanking. 

Every time his hand made contact, Luci made louder and longer quacks. Hilarious. 

But not quite as funny as the rigid length rubbing between his thighs with every hit. 

“Hard already? Little King, you’re incorrigable.” Alastor’s voice was low, that rare tenor that sounded quite unlike him. Luci loved when his tone dropped, it seemed so much more like the real him. Very rarely did he hear it unless it was growled and groaned directly into his skin. 

He tried to say sorry, but just a mortifying two pitch quack came out. Head dropping in defeat, he knew he’d have to just wait until the punishment was over to apologize again. 

With every effort he could manage he forced himself to breath through his nose, he didn’t want to make that fucking noise anymore. It was becoming more and more embarrassing as he became harder and wetter. The humiliation aspect wasn’t doing anything for him. But the pain and then radiating heat across his ass was making his cock leak into Alastor’s pants. The motion was reminiscent of some of the rougher times they had sex, Alastor’s hips slapping against his cheeks with every frustrated thrust. 

But he was missing the best part…he felt so empty now. Yes he was in trouble, but he couldn’t help how his body was reacting. He’d been trained over several months now. Though this was admittedly the first time he’d been spanked, it wasn’t the first time he let Alastor rule him. 

The spankings stopped, Luci going lax. That was quick. 

“My affections for you are for you and you alone. I feel the same about what you have given me. When you let others hear our private monikers, it's like passing my token of love around the room. It’s not mine anymore.” 

Lucifer jumped as he felt something cold drip down and between his cheeks. Another wave of expectant pleasure rolled up his thighs. But he managed to keep quiet. 

“‘Ducky’ is a silly and childish thing to call a man, your majesty.” Hearing Alastor’s voice but not being able to see him or what he was doing added another layer of attraction that was new for Lucifer. Some of the mystery was solved when two long fingers slid up from his balls and past his entrance, smearing what he could only hope was lube. 

 “But when you call me by that name, it makes me feel unreasonably happy.” Luci’s teeth threatened to tear the duck open as he clenched, those two swiping fingers passing back over and bullying into his tight hole. He’d spent the night before slowly riding Alastor so he was still somewhat soft, but he was sensitive and a tad sore from the long evening. What would be the punishment if he let loose and just ripped the duck apart with his fangs? Another twitch of his dick. 

It was painfully vulnerable to have to spell this all out for his king. Alastor didn’t give the other man any time to adjust and began a quick and, he hoped, somewhat punishing speed as he fucked Luci’s cute ass with his fingers. The sound was obscene, and he had to wiggle his hips to adjust his growing erection under Luci’s ribs. 

He pushed his fingers in deep, knuckles pressing into soft cheeks. A pause. 

“A happiness others don’t deserve to see. Making me feel such lovely warmth just to make me stamp it out, well, it’s rather cruel, don’t you think?”

Luci’s body tensed and jumped from Alastor’s hold, the other man’s free hand pressed him back down. Alastor was rubbing harshly into his g-spot and the resulting scream came out as a long and wheezy quack. He could feel drool slipping down his chin. 

A chorus of apologies followed but were translated as whiny duck sounds as Alastor resumed his thrusting digits. 

The sounds of his ass being repeatedly entered with sticky lubricant and his own squeaking responses were doing-in his head. An orgasm was building faster than he was used to, hips beginning to rut into Alastor’s inner thigh. 

A failed quack was forced out as he tensed again from his impending release, but Alastor’s fingers pulled out suddenly, leaving his body entirely bereft of any touch. 

When he lost the rising tension and once again went boneless with a bitter cry, Alastor delivered another spanking. This time the pain tore through his center and reached his cock as pure, white hot pleasure. He needed more. He pressed his tippy toes into the floor and jutted his ass up, inviting Alastor to do it again. 

Alastor knew Luci hadn’t meant to let everyone hear his petname, but he had to ensure his love was more careful in the future. The others could know some day, but not yet. He couldn’t properly explore his burgeoning feelings and foreign desires with an audience. When he was ready, they could all bask in his conquest. But until then…

“You know how green I am to all of this.” His hand slipped between Lucifer’s legs and wrapped around his twitching member. It must have been painful, he thought, to be so hard, “I’m not ready to share. I’m still learning how to live in this kind of arrangement.” Right hand now stroking Lucifer like he was milking him, which he intended to, his other hand let long claws scratch and tear into his tacky circus attire. 

Being clothed except for his bare ass up and in the air added to the degradation for Lucifer. Even his shoes were still on, for hell’s sake. He fought the urge to moan in response to Alastor’s fingers gldiing over his head with every thrust and smearing his precum over his sensitive head. 

He knew very well how confusing all of this was for Alastor. It was apparent in their first physical encounter, Alastor going stiff and panicked when Lucifer’s hips rolled into his erection with his own. He liked how protective Alastor was of what they had, whatever it was being unnamed and nebulous still. But Alastor clearly cherished it, it was obvious in the soft looks and assailable positions he let himself be guided into with Luci’s practiced hand. 

Forgiveness was found in Alastor’s left hand coming to his fluttering entrance and sinking back in with two fingers. Slowly, daring to be called lovingly, he fucked Luci with a gentle pace. The hand jerking him off though sped up, matching the rhythm of Alastor’s own hips rutting up into Lucifer’s side. 

Tears streamed down Luci’s alabaster cheeks as he fought hard to not make any more humiliating quacks.

“You’ve been good, Dove. Can you cum for me?”

Trembling from knees to shoulders, he gave in. Loud quacks threatened to alert the residents down stairs, Luci’s moaning becoming softer and prolonged until he was silently screaming and painting his floor with his spend. 

Alastor pumped his fingers a few more times to let Luci ride out the orgasm. He picked up his soveriegn and set him upright on his lap, legs spread over Alastor’s open legs, and cock quickly softening. Lucifer could feel Alastor’s erection poking into the bottom of his ass. 

Undoing the buckle and removing the gag, Alastor set it on the seat beside them. His hands came to rub at Lucifer’s jaw, “Hurts?”

“It’s – yeah, it’s so stiff.” He opened and closed his mouth.

“Are you ready to move to the next part?”

Luci turned around quickly, “Next part?”

“Yes. You learned to not say it in front of others. Now, I need you to practice saying it just for me.” Alastor’s arms wrapped around Luci’s waist and he pushed his hips forward, making the smaller man fall forward as he bent in half. Luci heard the belt slipping off of Alastor’s pants, “How many times can I make you scream Ducky just for me, Dove?”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[azaleakoneko]

Doctor’s Orders

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem|Reader

Requested by: @strawheart-pirate

A/N: Hii! I went back and forth for a bit about how exactly to do this prompt, but I hope you like it 😊. It was a nice little challenge ❤️‍🩹

Warnings: Super short lived anxiety to set the scene for the fluff! Soft Doctor Law 🫰

Word count: 3.4k

Please note that just because this work is fluff and appropriate for consumption of any age, that cannot be said about the rest of my blog. This is primarily an 18+ Blog and will stay that way, so keep that in mind, thank you!

········ ······· ······· ········

˗ˏˋ ༺｡° .ᘛ 𓆩♡𓆪 ᘚ. ° ｡༻ ˎˊ˗

༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

˗ˏˋ ༺｡° .ᘛ 𓆩♡𓆪 ᘚ. ° ｡༻ ˎˊ˗

········ ······· ······· ········

Docking on islands to restock when possible certainly wasn’t unusual, but what was intended to be a short stay somehow turned from one day to three — from three to a week and then two as Law agreed to take on patients in return for the supplies he was receiving.

Normally he would’ve just done the bare minimum to get in and out of a town before getting too comfortable and letting his guard down, but something about this island didn’t want to let go of him. It was like he had been called there and didn’t quite know the reason, that is until he met you.

You were so sweet and personable with himself and his crew as you took it upon yourself to load his temporary office with the required supplies donated by the town. At first he hardly spoke a word to you aside from the usual gratitude, but he couldn’t help but take an interest in you the more you came around — admiring how hard you worked to help them out when you really didn’t need to. Your excuse was always something along the lines of ‘doing your due diligence for the town’, or simple enough excuses of citizens personally asking you to deliver goods on their behalf, but to him it always felt like there were words left unsaid behind those pretty lips of yours.

Eventually he accepted that alongside his frequent supply deliveries would be an opportunity to get to know you better, something he disliked less and less the more you opened up to him. Your smile alone made his heart leap and his face heat in a way that left him wondering for a while if perhaps he had caught something while treating the locals. However, after similar symptoms popping up at things like the sound of your voice, slight lingering touches from your delicate hands when you passed him things, or even the way you’d take an interest in his work — even the doctor had to admit to himself that there was more to his interest than just appreciation and that he indeed wasn’t sick. At least, not the type of sick medicine would cure.

Things continued progressing this way, sweet and slow, until one day there was a sudden heavy storm that threw off the routine he had grown to love.

˗ˏˋ ༺｡° .ᘛ 𓆩♡𓆪 ᘚ. ° ｡༻ ˎˊ˗

“She should have been here by now…” Law said to himself as his mind began to drift to the worst case scenarios as he rose to his feet, shoes thudding against the floor anxiously as he walked over to the heavy wooden door, swinging it open to stare out into the downpour. His heart sank and he had knots in the depths of his stomach at the thought of something terrible happening to you. His eyes scanned the darkened horizon and immediately widened when he saw a soaked figure surrounded by parcels being pelted by a merciless torrent of rain. Without a second thought he had already bolted out the door alongside a snap of lightning and rolling thunder outside, thinking about nothing else other than ensuring you hadn’t been harmed.

“Y/N! What were you even thinking still trying to make your delivery run out here in this nasty weather?” Law said with a bite to his voice, but the tremble gave away his true worry. “Come on, let’s get you inside so I can look you over and make sure these scrapes are just artificial.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to retort as he swept your drenched body up into his arms and began to carry you back inside, disregarding the drips littering the floor as he moved to place you down on the sterilized bed usually reserved for the temporary patients that came to see him. “Just lay back and let me check, alright? You’ve seen me use this before, so there’s nothing to fear y/n-ya.”

You nodded and would’ve attempted to stifle a giggle from his concern if it weren’t for your chattering teeth and trembling body preventing you from finding much of anything funny at the moment. “Mhm, I-I trust y-you Doctor.” You managed to murmur out, feeling a bit guilty for making a mess and causing so much unnecessary concern all because you wanted to keep to your schedule so you could spend another evening chatting with him about everything under the now clouded over sun. You certainly got your wish, but you hoped it didn’t come at the cost of wasting his time. “Oh n-no, the supplies!” You said, attempting to sit up and move.

Law placed a firm yet gentle hand on your shoulder with his eyebrows knit together in concern, not even needing to use much force to get you to lay back down on the mattress. “Supplies be damned — they can always be replaced, you on the other hand can’t be. Now let me do my examination before you try to move again. Doctor's orders, you hear me?”

You complied, wet clothing making a soft squelch against the plastic of the bed as you settled in, laying perfectly still with your gaze locked on him in fascination as he began to use his devil fruit powers to check over you with extreme precision. You already knew it was no use protesting until he had made sure himself, regardless of what you said. “S-So? What’s the verdict Doc? Am I gonna live?” You asked with a smirk, wishing you had a warm change of clothes so your teasing wouldn’t lose part of its playful effect from your continued shivering.

Hearing you joke around paired with the conclusive results of his powers had his shoulders sagging in relief. He sighed and put a tattooed hand to his head, satisfied that you really weren’t injured. “Yeah, thankfully you’re gonna be fine. Seriously though, what were you thinking y/n? You’re lucky you weren’t out there too long before I found you.”

“Still w-worrying about me, Trafalgar? I’m fine, really. I’m just a l-little cold and um, quite d-damp…” You said as you lifted one of your waterlogged sleeves as an example. “I just wanted to bring you what you needed — you’re not mad are you? I’m really sorry, I j-just wanted to see you.” It was clear enough by your honest tone that you were remorseful, but it made you worry if you had said something wrong when you saw him look momentarily bewildered by your innocent confession before it seemed the puzzle pieces finally clicked together in his mind. It was for him.

“…” Law looked upset but said nothing as he shook his head and offered his hand out for you to help you up from the examination table. “No, I’m not mad. Not at you or the situation,” He said as he waited for you to sit up and have a firm grip on his hand. “-so yeah, I was worried about you. Now come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can shower and get warmed up. Wouldn’t want you to actually get sick… I have some things I can give you to change into when you’re done. I’ll leave them by the door and toss your wet clothes into the dryer afterwards. Does that sound okay with you?”

You nodded with a genuine smile, more than happy to have been offered his kindness instead of a frigid biting response on this already chilly evening. “Mhm, t-thank you very much d-doctor.” You muttered thankfully as he ushered you into the bathroom and waited for you to close the door.

Once you turned the water on and began to strip away the wet garments that had been stripping you of your body heat you heard his footsteps recede for a bit, returning a few minutes later with a soft rap on the door with his fingers that read ‘e’ and ‘a’. It nearly made you jump since you weren’t accustomed to showering at someone else’s home, let alone someone you were infatuated with, but he was respectful and as promised left the dry clothing by the door; his yellow sweatshirt with his crew’s symbol and a comfortable pair of sweatpants.

“Take your time, I’ll get started on making something hot for you to drink when you get out. Feel free to use any of the stuff in the shower, I don’t mind. Just leave the wet things on the floor, I’ll take care of them.” He called out as he headed to the kitchen, letting you ease into the steaming water to ease away the chill and scrub away the wet filth.

˗ˏˋ ༺｡° .ᘛ 𓆩♡𓆪 ᘚ. ° ｡༻ ˎˊ˗

When you got out you felt fully refreshed, the shivering from the cold now replaced with a slight nervous tremble as you looked at yourself in his clothes — a slight blush decorating your cheeks. “He’s just being nice, don’t think too much of it..” you said to yourself as you ignored your own words, gripping the front of the hoodie and bringing it up to your nose to inhale the scent that still lingered there. It was a musky pine scent that made butterflies tingle in your stomach before you dropped the material and cleared your throat, not wanting to be flustered when you joined him again.

You left the wet items on the floor despite feeling a bit guilty for leaving a mess, but he did say he would take care of it after all. Since you were done you took one last glance at yourself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom and going to look for him. It didn’t take long, you just followed your nose to the alluring scent of hot chocolate and peppermint to the kitchen; eyes widening in delight when you saw the steaming cup topped with whipped cream just waiting for you on the table across from the considerate doctor himself.

“That smells delicious! Thank you, Trafalgar…” You gasped as you picked up the cup and eagerly took a sip, disregarding the white foam that now covered the top part of your lip. The hot liquid scorched your tongue and throat a little as you gulped it down, but the way it warmed your insides had you sighing contentedly before flashing him a grateful smile. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this…”

“There is no need for you to repay me y/n. You do plenty just by bringing me supplies and giving me company all the time…” Law said as he held up a hand and shook his head, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks as he looked at you. It also seemed you weren’t the only one that liked how you looked in his clothing, evident by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you now. “If you really want to thank me though, please be more careful. I like seeing you too, but not if it puts you at risk.” He said before diverting his attention from you and grabbing his own cup in an attempt to hide his embarrassment from sounding like an overprotective partner when it hadn’t even been something in your control — let alone the fact that he was just being a friend to you and nothing more.

At least that’s what he continued to think to himself as he put his cup down and cleared his throat. “I’m really glad that you’re alright though... It’s still too stormy out there for me to feel comfortable sending you home. You can stay here tonight if you’re comfortable with that? I can take the couch — you can go ahead and take the bed for the night.”

You nearly choked on your drink when you heard him offer his bed for the night, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of not having to leave was appealing. You carefully set the cup down with a delicate clink against the table and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “R-Really? I wouldn’t want to impose… I can take the couch, it’s not a problem. Besides, I’m not even tired yet.” That was true enough. How could you possibly be tired now knowing you would be sleeping under the same roof as your beloved doctor? It seemed impossible, improbable even, yet that was your current predicament thanks to the heavy rains.

“Tired or not it wouldn’t be right to have you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed you could use. Doctor’s orders.” Law said as a playful smirk began to pull at the corners of his lips, clearly loving being able to take advantage of his title to force your hand on the sleeping arrangements. Not like he minded — he’d fallen asleep in much more uncomfortable places than a soft, warm couch during his countless hours of medicinal study.

You puffed your cheeks up and crossed your arms but knew he’d already made up his mind. “Fine, but can we just… talk for a while? I mean, I did almost die and all just so I could come and give you some company.” Sure it was a dramatization, but he was already not playing fair so you weren’t going to either. “Or are visiting hours done for the night?”

Law scoffed amusedly and walked around the table so he was in front of you before plopping one of his hands on the top of your head to ruffle your hair softly. “I think I can push back visiting hours, just for you. But first... you have something on your face just here—” he mumbled as he raised his other hand, index finger swiping along your top lip to collect the forgotten cream from the hot chocolate before thoughtlessly popping his finger into his mouth, swirling the cream off of his finger with his tongue before realizing that was probably too much.

You were stunned as you watched him, feeling your heart skip from his closeness and the random act of intimacy. “T-Trafalgar…?” You stuttered his name quietly, all hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks gone out the window. If it were possible you’d probably have steam coming out of your ears, but in reality you stood there like a deer in headlights with widened eyes and a yearning expression on your face. Part of you wished he would’ve just kissed you to get it off, only making your mortification worse.

Law thought about it too as he saw your sweet, confused yet wanting expression, but he wasn’t sure if it would be too much so he chose to back off a bit with a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head and took a step back. “Sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away didn’t I… Here, let me take your cup. We can just go sit on the couch and talk until you get tired, if I didn’t make things weird?”

It took a moment for your brain to rewire, but when it did you cleared your throat and shook your head. “U-Um it’s not weird, I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought you were going to.. going to um..” you began to say before stopping yourself. “Never mind, it’s not important! S-Sure, sounds good to me.” Never before had you wanted to kick yourself more than in that moment, but he just smiled at you knowingly as he took the cup from you and began to wash it in the sink along with his own before setting them both in the dish rack side by side.

He then led you to the couch and let you get settled before sitting beside you, noticing your feeble attempts at maintaining distance as the two of you discussed everything you’d initially planned on bringing up to him. That didn’t last long however. The more you talked and the later it got, the more you sank into his side until he had his arm slung comfortably behind you, casually holding onto you as if it were a normal thing between the two of you. It was comforting paired with the sound of the rain still pelting the windows outside, urging you to stay inside with Law where it was safe and warm.

“Are you getting tired yet…?” Law asked softly as he raised his other hand to tuck some of your loose strands behind your ear, feeling his heart spill over with warmth and unbridled affection when you looked up at him. His devil fruit allowed him to steal hearts at will, but that look you gave him alone ensured that you had stolen his without even trying. “You look like you’re barely keeping your eyes open. I can carry you to the bed if you need me to, y/n.”

A sleepy pout knitted your brows together and your hand attempted to grip onto his shirt in protest but your grip was hardly strong enough to do so when you were only barely staving off the lull of sleep thanks to his attentiveness and warmth. “I’m not falling asleep. I’m wide awake, see…?” You said as you made a show of widening your eyes just for your lids to quickly return to their half lidded state — your hand partially sliding down his chest since it took everything you had just to stay conscious.

Law chuckled, his laugh reverberating in his chest and making you shake slightly and making it ten times harder to stay awake from hearing the soft pleasant sound you adored so much so closely. “Yeah, I see that…” he said as he sighed and pulled you closer into his side, angling his hold on you so that it would be easier for him to scoop you up and carry you into the room when you finally passed out. “You put up a good fight, but I think it’s the sandman’s shift with you now sweetheart…”

If you were more conscious that comment would’ve sent you into another fluster, but all you could process was him trying to move you and it resulted in you using the last of your energy to cling to him. “Please just let me stay wherever you are, Traffy…”

Law paused for a moment at your use of a nickname on him in return while asking something like that of him. It was so cute watching you fight him even now, and he had to admit it was a nice thought — getting to fall asleep with you tucked inside of his arms, safe from the rainstorm and warm in his bed. He sighed once more and leaned his head down to place a chaste kiss against your forehead as a distraction before swiping you up effortlessly in his arms, head nestled against his shoulder, and took you into the darkness of his organized bedroom to lay you down on his bed.

He placed you down on the bed, helping you slip under the covers with a tender smile on his face as he watched you dig your face into his pillow and visibly relax. “That’s it, get comfortable.” He hummed quietly as he tried to back off and let you fall deeper into the slumber you so badly tried to put off, but your hand caught his when he tried to walk away, your next words making him feel like he had no choice but to give you whatever you wanted.

“Can you please stay with me? I want you here…” You said with a half conscious yawn, struggling to open your eyes and look at him. He’d be sure to tease you in the morning about how you refused to let him leave the room, but for now his resolve crumbled and he crawled into the bed beside you, pulling you against his chest — not even surprised at the contented hum that left your lips as you nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder, eyelids beginning to flutter closed once again now that you’d gotten what you wanted. “Thank you, that’s much better. Goodnight Traffy, you’re the best…”

Law couldn’t take how sweet you were being to him, feeling like he would burst from the happiness he felt. He stroked your hair affectionately with one hand as he gently tilted your face towards his, almost talking himself out of it when he saw your sleepy confused expression, but nonetheless he pressed his lips to yours in a short and sweet kiss. “Goodnight y/n… Sleep well, sweetheart.” Then he sank into the bed and pulled you close once more.

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he wanted to offer you; like joining him on the Polar Tang when they did decide to leave, but that would have to wait until both of you were rested. For now all he wanted to do was wait out the rain wrapped up in this cozy little bubble with you.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do not copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing or graphics on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3

[peachessndreamss]

Private Bennett's Lover - Part 2

Summery : Tom Bennett and Mrs Randall can't seem to keep away from each other, despite the risks.

Characters : Tom Bennett x Married!Female OC Mrs Randall

Warnings : Canon typical language

Word count : 8K

A/N : Getting this edited and ready took way longer than I planned so I am sorry about that.

Series Masterlist l peachessndreamss Masterlist l peachessndreamss ask box

Rain had started the evening before and truly set in overnight, the entire sky was blanketed in dark clouds making the morning feel more like the dead of night, the rain that lashed down in sheets was icy cold and bounced up everywhere it hit the earth. 

Tom watched the torrent pouring down as he heard the words he’d dreaded most. Even on warm and bright days the assault course was daunting, a 6 mile course over uneven and changeable terrain, dotted with obstacles which made crossing No Mans Land look like a summer stroll in the park, but on a day with heavy rain and brutal cold winds it was a horrifying prospect. 

The only small candle Tom could hold onto as he changed into his physical gear was that Mrs Randall might be in her drawing room when they ran past, she might notice him. Tom had struggled to keep thoughts of her from his mind. Whenever he found himself idle, which was more often than not, Tom couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing, if she was thinking of him and when he might see her again. 

Tom was buffeted out of the barracks and into the weather alongside his fellow Privates, all of them desperate to get this over with and get back inside. Within minutes of being exposed to the rain Tom’s clothes were soaked and sticking to his skin, his breath was forming clouds in front of his face and his vision was inhibited by the driving rain. 

Despite the cold Tom was sweating as he threw himself up the wooden wall, his fingers gripping onto the wet wood and sticky mud as he hauled his body upward, his white t-shirt dragging through the filth.  As he jumped down the other side into a pool of ankle deep filthy water he brushed the back of his hand over his forehead, unable to tell if he was wiping away sweat or rain from his face. 

After a few seconds to catch his breath Tom set off again, moving around the outer wall of The Big House and finally coming to the place he was certain the drawing room overlooked, this was mostly just a stretch of leaf strewn woodland path, but there were hidden hazards like deep puddles and coils of barbed wire hidden by overgrowth. Tom slowed his run significantly and turned his attention from the path ahead of him to the upper windows of the house above the perimeter wall. The windows of the house were glowing with light but through the rain Tom wasn’t able to make out if anyone might have been looking down from them. 

While distracted Tom moved too far from the centre of the path and his foot caught a concealed coil of wire, the wire wrapped around his foot and pulled the limb from right under him. Tom crashed down to the path, his hands slipping on the wet leaves and his face slamming into the ground, bright white lights burst behind his eyes and his mouth was suddenly filled with the earthy taste of mud and the coppery tang of blood. 

He cried out in pain, shock and humiliation as the sounds of laughter rang out from behind him, the thunder of running feet shook the earth and rattled Tom’s head as he scrambled to get back on his feet, his hands slipping from under his weight as he tried to push himself up. 

Tom felt a strong hand grip the back of his t-shirt and yank him up. Tom clumsily found his feet as he blinked rapidly, trying to get his vision to settle. 

“Get moving Bennett,” the Lieutenant Commander shouted in Tom's face before shoving him forward, Tom stumbled again but with a shake of his head managed to set off, his pace slower as his head throbbed but at least in a straight line. 

Tom felt his forehead grow warm and he brushed his palm over the skin, seeing it come away dirtier with mud and bright red blood. He touched his fingers to the space above his eye, feeling a hot, slick sensation and seeing the tips of his icy white finger tips crimson. 

“Fuck,” he spat but he didn’t dare slow his pace again or stop to feel the wound any further, he knew he’d only get shouted at again and probably punished. He allowed himself one more glance at The Big House, now hoping against all hope that Mrs Randall hadn’t seen him fall. 

For the rest of the week Tom nursed his damaged ego and fussed over the nasty gash above his eye. After a few days of fairly good natured teasing Tom’s fellow seamen had all but forgotten the incident and were on to the next thing. 

As the next Saturday rolled around and Tom found himself making the walk up to The Big House, he couldn’t even bring himself to care about missing another weekend in the village, another opportunity to drink in the pub and chat up the barmaid. 

Even the cut above his eye and the yellow and purple bruise around it couldn’t take the spring out of his step as he made his way across the green lawns, made lush by the rain and now the sunshine that warmed his body. 

Bill gave him little more than a tertiary look before telling Tom he would be working in the garages that day, on the east side of the house. 

His shoulder slumped slightly as he made his way around the side of the house and toward the out buildings where the stables had been converted into a large garage, the shadow of the house left him feeling cold and his mood dower, he felt it was unlikely he'd run into Mrs Randall in the while he cleaned her husbands car. 

The converted stables were dark, cold and smelt damp, even with the doors open wide, providing a teasing view of the glorious sunshine that was tantalisingly close but utterly out of reach. 

Tom found a bucket and sponge in what once would have been a manger but was now being used for storage. The Vice Admirals black Bentley was parked half in and half out of the stable block giving Tom full access to the vehicle. The lower half of it was caked in the red mud of the county, most of it had dried but a cursory rub of it with a dry sponge told Tom he would need to soak the muck off, making this job far more taxing than the week before. 

He filled the bucket with icy water from an outside tap before throwing the sponge in, splashing the cold water back on himself, it soaked through the fabric of his trousers and instantly chilled his skin. He cursed to himself before lifting the bucket off the ground and carrying toward the back of the car, setting it down near the back wheel. 

Tom picked up the soaked sponge and squeezed the excess water out before slapping it on the top of the vehicle and starting to rub in large circles. The water ran down the curves of the car in rivulets, some of them snaking up Tom's wrist and down his forearms. As the water reached the crook of Tom’s elbow he decided it was going to be a miserable day. 

He was tipping out his 4th bucket of dirty water when he spotted Mrs Randall.  She was making her way around the side of the house, her stride quick and purposeful, the sun shining on her face and a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. 

Tom straightened up, finding it impossible to take his eyes off her and she walked toward him. He was struck by the thought that she was so different every time he saw her, as if every time they’d met he'd meet a new woman and find something new to like about her. 

“Private Bennett,” she greeted with a smile as she strode straight past him and into the darkness of the garage. 

“Mrs Randall,” Tom replied with a smile, turning on his heel and following her inside, not bothering to re-fill the bucket. 

“Back for more punishment?” she teased as she rubbed the side of her boot on a boot brush fixed to the back wall of the stable. 

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Tom replied with a grin as he lent against the car, pleased that he’d managed to clean at least the top half before she turned up. 

“Speaking of which,” Tom added, inclining his head toward her, “Have you been riding?” 

“Walking,” she replied, “I enjoy walking and the grounds here are quite extensive.” 

Tom nodded, his idea of “going for a walk” had always been to the local pub or to a dance in the hall in town, he’d never had much of an opportunity to go walking for the pleasure of it. 

“And what do you do on these walks?” Tom asked. 

“Think mostly,” she replied with a shrug, moving to rest on the edge of a workbench that ran around the edge of the room,  “I find it’s when I do my best thinking actually, and just about the one time I’m ever really on my own,”. 

“Wha’ about out here?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the open expanse of ground in front of the stables that was completely deserted as far as the eye could see, “I’d ‘ave thought we’re quite alone out here,”. 

“Hmm,” she considered for a few seconds before pushing off from the workbench she’d been leaning on and moving toward him, “Quite alone,”. 

Coming to stand in front of him, Mrs Randall reached up and touched her fingertips to the cut on his forehead. A shiver ran down Tom's spine at the warmth of her hands and the gentleness of her touch. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“Made a tit of myself on the assault course,” Tom replied with a shrug, his bravado faltering when her touch lingered far longer than it needed too. 

“Wasn’t paying attention you see." 

“What had you so distracted, Tom?” she asked, her soft voice above a whisper and her touch now a caress. 

“I was looking for you, I wanted you to see me” he replied softly before reaching up and taking hold of her hand at the wrist.  

Her skin was warm to the touch and Tom felt a tingle in his fingers as he brought her hand away from his forehead and to his lips. He took a slow breath as he brought her palm toward his mouth, catching the spicy, warm scent of her perfume before pressing his lips to the centre of her palm in a gentle kiss. He saw her breath stall in her throat and her eyes widen as his lips lingered for just a moment before releasing her hand. 

She let her hand and arm drop like a dead weight back to her side, her whole body suddenly vibrating like a taut string someone had plucked. Her palm burned where his lips touched her as if his lips left a brand on her skin and her stomach fluttered as if full of butterflies. 

“I do see you Tom."

She took a small step forward, positioning one of her feet between his and bringing their bodies far closer together than polite society would allow. Mrs Randall brought her hand up to his face, slipping her fingers into his hair, the tendrils silky to the touch. She lifted herself up, half terrified and half thrilled to press her lips to his in a soft kiss. While Tom had been stunned into inaction for a few seconds it didn’t take long for him to come back to his senses, wrapping his icy hand around her and pulling her body hard against his. 

Surprised by his sudden movement she drew her face back from his but Tom moved his other hand up her body and brought it to rest on her cheek, using it to hold her as he brought his lips back to hers. His kiss lacked her gentleness, his mouth claimed hers with a fiery need that spread through her body, making the skin on the back of her neck prickle and the tips of her fingers and toes go numb. 

Tom’s tongue slipped along her bottom lip and groaned as the taste of her filled his mouth. He felt his head spin, like he’d had a few too many pints and stood up too quickly, she was the most intoxicating woman he’d ever kissed and he tightened his hold on her as she pressed herself harder against him, feeling how her soft body moulded to his own. 

Mrs Randall gave a small whimper and Tom could have believed they were the only two people left alive, until the grating, carrying voice of the Vice Admiral reached their ears. 

“...saw her coming back from her walk, heading toward the stables I think,” he was saying, his voice reaching them on the gentle breeze that blew across the lawns. 

With a look of horror she wrenched herself out of Tom’s embrace, immediately missing the feel of his body and the fire of his kisses. She looked around her frantically, wondering if there was any possible alibi she could give for being alone with him. She looked back at his face and found his blue gaze blazing and his mouth open as he breathed deeply. She touched her fingertips to her lips before taking an unsteady step backward. 

“I-I-I” she stammered, but found she didn’t have the words for any of the thoughts and emotions currently raging through her. 

“Go on,” he said, motioning toward the open doors, the more distance they could put between them the better. 

He watched as she turned and took a few unsteady steps before reaching down to grab the bucket and sponge off the floor beside his feet, the bucket was empty but the sponge was still wet enough to make a reasonable look of being in the middle of his task if the Vice Admiral decided to stick his head in the stables. 

Turning his attention back to the car he could only hear the sound of her steps changing from the cobbles of the stables to the crunch of gravel outside and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief knowing that there was no reason for the Vice Admiral to expect they had been together. 

“Ah here she is!” The Vice Admirals' private school accent grated on Tom as he rubbed the sponge halfheartedly over an already clean part of the roof. 

He kept his head down and face turned away from the open doors so not to be seen or be noticed. 

“Were you looking for me, darling?” Tom heard Mrs Randall reply, the falsely cheery sound in her voice that Tom could tell was entirely fake. 

Their voices drifted away to an indistinguishable sound carried by the breeze as the two of them walked away from the stables and back around the side of the house, leaving Tom alone in the cold, dank and dark. 

He dropped the sponge back in the bucket and stood stock still, staring at his own reflection in the car window. He touched his fingertips to his mouth. Had she just kissed him? Did he pull her body into his own and slip his tongue along her lips? Was anything from the past 20 minutes real? The spinning feeling in Tom’s head was back and he placed a steadying hand on the car. 

Of all the reckless, dangerous, illegal and just plain stupid things Tom had ever done in his life, kissing the Vice Admirals wife was surely the most reckless, dangerous and stupid of all, and despite that, the corners of Tom’s mouth tipped up in a smile. She’d kissed him first, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and Tom was confident their kiss wouldn’t be just a one time thing. She’d be back for more. 

With that thought burning in his chest like a candle Tom didn’t feel so cold anymore and somehow the stables were less dark than a moment ago. With a newly found spring in his step Tom picked up the bucket and went to refill it. 

More than an hour later, Mrs Randall watched Tom return to the barracks across the east lawn, the sky had remained clear and the afternoon was warm and bright. Tom had taken his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder, he walked with a confident swagger and appeared to be whistling to himself.

She saw him look toward the house, his eyes scanning the bottom floor windows, instinctively she took a step backward further into the shadowed interior of the room, not wanting to be caught watching him. The memory of their kiss consumed her thoughts, in some way she thought she could still feel the press of his body against hers 

The sharp knock on her study door brought Mrs Randall out of her thoughts and she called for them to enter, moving toward the desk and sitting in the large leather chair that creaked as she sat. The Housekeeper entered, her black uniform absolutely immaculate and a small slip of paper clutched in her hand.  

“This is everything left in the wine cellar,” she said, placing the list on the table, “one more party and we'll be dry,” she added, a note of disapproval in her voice. 

Mrs Randall knew the Vice Admirals parties had taken a toll on the Royal Navy’s cellars, but she’d not realised they were quite so close to running out. She looked over the list, her brows furrowing. 

“Thank you,” Mrs Randall replied, “I’ll speak to Vice Admiral Randall about making some orders, but this will do for now,”. 

“And the menu for Saturday?” The housekeeper asked, taking the small slip of paper back off the desk and tucking it into one of the many pockets of her dress. 

“Oh the usual please,” she replied, finding her mind was already wandering. 

“Very good Mrs Randall,”. 

The housekeeper turned and left the room with barely a sound, only the snap of the door closing confirmed Mrs Randal was alone again. 

Glancing back out the window, Tom was long gone and he'd likely be back at the barracks by now. She sighed softly and folded her arms around her middle, her hands grasping the opposite elbow. When she thought about Tom the fluttering feeling returned to her stomach, her cheeks flushed with heat and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. 

In her year and a half of marriage, those stolen moments in the stables were the first time she had felt desirable. With Tom, there had been no question that someone had wanted her, and wanted her as more than just a pretty thing to parade around and host dinner parties. Kissing Tom had been a moment of madness, and every second of it from stepping up to him to ripping herself from his arms made her feel alive. 

The small clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour and she sighed deeply, sitting up straight at her desk she pulled the small stack of envelopes toward her, flipping the top one over and opening it with a flick of her thumb. 

Back in the barracks Tom was lounging on his bed, cigarette between his lips as his shipmates started to return from the village in ones and twos, most of them clearly a little worse for wear after an afternoon in the pub. One of the more sober men caught sight of Tom and grinned at him. 

“Did ya have fun at Big House?” he asked sarcastically, “Cleanin’ up after the Vice Arsehole?” 

Tom rolled his eyes in the direction of the sailor before fixing him with a dark glare. He took his cigarette from between his lips and tapped the ash off into an empty tin can at his side. 

“Better t’be up there than catchin the clap from some 2 bob whore,” Tom replied coldly. 

The man who’d spoken to him flushed with embarrassment and Tom got a vicious thrill of satisfaction to see the man's cheeks colour and his mouth flap open like a fish out of water. 

“Fuck off Bennett,” he spat before throwing himself onto his own bed and glaring at the ceiling. 

“Ah come on mate,” Tom taunted, turning on his side to look over at his fellow sailor, “VD can ‘appen to the best of us, but givin’ it to your poor wife must have really stung." 

Tom only had half a second to get off the bed and on his feet before the other man was on him, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him against the wall. His head bounced off the concrete wall, the impact making lights burst in front of his eyes and his ears ring but he still laughed. 

“I didn’t give anything to my wife,” the private spat, his face turning an uncomfortable shade of red. 

Tom raised his eyebrows and smirked. 

“So, did you ge’it from her then? I heard times were hard back home but…” Tom’s voice trailed off as he glanced around the room and found grinning faces of other sailors. 

“You fucking bastard,” the other man spat as he pulled Tom away from the wall and slammed him back into it. 

The blow should have winded Tom but he’d been ready for it and just laughed again. 

“There’s a war on mate, nothing wrong with your good wife getting a job to help support the family, although most men might mind about their Missus going on the game." 

Tom only had a few seconds to duck as the other man let go of his collar, pulled back a balled fist and thrust it forward, crashing with surprising force into the spot Tom’s face had been just a second before. The man’s fist connected with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch, he howled in pain, snatching his fist back and cradling it against his stomach. Tom watched, his face unimpressed as the other man staggered backward. 

“You fucking bastard, you fucking fuck,” he spat as he turned and staggered along the line of beds toward the door. 

Tom shook his head and scoffed in disgust before taking a cigarette from the pack on his pillow and lighting it as he sat down on his bed. He glanced around the room, finding every other pair of eyes in the room watching him carefully. 

“Good time in town?” he asked no one in particular. 

There were a few murmurs from around the room but no one else attempted to engage Tom in further conversation. Tom smirked and shook his head before lying his head back on his pillow, letting out a curl of smoke between his lips. 

On Thursday morning Tom became aware there would be another party at The Big House that Saturday night. Saturday, during the day, would also be the last time he was expected up there to perform some menial task or another. He hoped his final task wouldn’t be to fix the window he was planning to use to get to the party. 

Saturday morning dawned grey and wet, looking out toward the sea from the ballroom it was almost impossible to tell where the grey sky ended and the grey sea began. Behind her she heard the floorboard creek and a small cough. She turned and saw Tom stepping into the room from a side door. 

“What have they had you doing today Tom?” she asked with a shy smile as he stepped further into the room, letting the door click shut behind him. 

“Polishing silverware,” he replied. 

“Oh, he’s having another bash tonight,” she said with a sigh, feeling faintly embarrassed that Tom had been polishing the knives and fork’s they’d use that night. 

“I’d guessed as much,” Tom shrugged, not wanting to let on that he was already well aware, “the kitchen was in a frenzy,”. 

“Yes,” she agreed, a fleeting look of embarrassment crossed her cheeks, “all seems a bit silly with everything else going on,”. 

Tom’s eyebrows quirked upward and he raised and dropped one shoulder. 

“Is just how the world works, someone’s dancin’ and someone’s dying,”. 

“God Tom,” she sighed, pressing her fingers to her mouth, “you must hate me,” she added, looking away from him and down toward the floor, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. 

“I don’t ‘ate you,” Tom said, his voice softening, “I don't think I could if I wanted’t”. 

She lifted her eyes back to his face and felt the heat of his gaze wash over her, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth, she remembered in vivid detail how his lips had felt against hers, how she’d tasted him on her tongue and felt her entire body awaken, as if he’d breathed life into her. 

Seized by a bone deep ache to feel his mouth on hers again she glanced over her shoulder, the doorway she’d entered the room through was ajar and the slice of corridor beyond was empty. 

“Come with me,” she said softly, taking a few steps toward him before passing him and walking toward a seemingly solid wall in the far corner of the room. 

Tom’s brows furrowed with confusion, but he stepped after her, their steps making the old floor of the ballroom crack and pop. When she reached the far wall Tom watched with fascination as she pushed gently against a seam that was unnoticeable unless you were an inch away from it and a small portion of the wall swung inward and she stepped through. 

Tom followed, ducking his head so not to bump it on the low lintel of the hidden doorway. The space beyond the wall was cold and dark, the walls were bare stone and lights were bare bulbs that glowed dimly. Behind Tom the secret door swung shut. 

The Old House was built with a maze of seemingly endless corridors and passageways that ran around the rooms and parallel to the main thoroughfares of the house. These hidden places meant the staff could move through the house quickly and unseen. 

She only took a few steps away from the door before she stopped and spun on her heel, knowing most of the staff would currently be focused in the kitchen there was next  to no chance of the two of them being found. 

Tom hadn’t been expecting her to stop so suddenly and he barely stopped himself before crashing into her.

“Whoa, watch yourself,” he said, steading himself and finding her so close to him he could have counted her eyelashes. 

In the close and dark space he breathed deeply, his nose catching the dank smell of the corridor, the spicy burn of her perfume and something else undefinable that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

Without hesitation Mrs Randall lifted her arms and slipped them around his neck before bringing her lips up to meet his. She moaned softly as she felt the warm caress of his hands at her waist and his strong grip and he drew her toward him, pressing the length of her body against his. As their lips moved against one another, his left hand slipped up her back and grasped at the back of her head, feeling the soft tendrils of hair beneath his fingers as he gently angled her head to the side. 

She broke away from his lips for a second, her eyes opening and meeting his. Even in the semi-darkness Tom couldn’t mistake the passion in her eyes, he felt stripped by her gaze, like he was the first man she’d ever looked at like this. That thought made his stomach twist and his heart squeeze in his chest, it was thrilling and frightening, and Tom never wanted her to stop looking at him like that.  

He brought his mouth back to hers, this time his tongue flicked along the seam of her lips before slipping between them and taking a taste of her. 

Mrs Randall’s hands slipped from the back of his neck round to the front of his shirt, gripping at the material and trying to pull him closer toward her, wanting to feel the press of him all over her body. Tom tightening his arm on her waist and she was shocked and aroused when she felt the hardness of the muscle between his thighs as it pressed against her stomach. 

With practised ease, Tom manoeuvred the two of them around and pressed her back against the cold stone wall. The sudden icy contact made her gasp but Tom pushed himself closer to her, sharing the heat of his body with her. 

“Jesus Tom,” she breathed, breaking her lips from his and breathing heavily. 

He chuckled softly as he used his left hand to take hold of her right wrist, pulling her fist off his shirt and pinning her arm to the wall behind her, their hands at face height. He kissed along her jaw and up to the lobe of her ear, biting down softly on the flesh and hearing her quiet moan filling the small space. 

Tom used his other hand to loosen the first few buttons on her silk blouse, the soft and flowy fabric slipped easily against her and exposed the delicate skin of her chest. 

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as he eyed the soft tops of her breasts where they heaved with her breathing. He moved his mouth back along her jaw to give her an innocent peck at the corner of her mouth before dropping his head lower and kissing the swell of her breast. 

He released his hold on her right hand, feeling it drop down beside her body, his left hand then travelled to cup the breast his mouth currently wasn’t working over. His kisses were hot and wet but her skin was burning on his lips. He experimented with a soft bite at the height of her breast and he was rewarded with another breathy moan and a roll of her hips. 

She moved her hands to grasp at his back, her nails clawing at the rough fabric of his work shirt, the scent of the soap he used for his hair filled her nose as her mouth and chin brushed against the crown of his head. 

“Oh God Tom,” she moaned.

To her own ears her voice had sounded like a strangers, breathy and needy. She grabbed at his hair, threading her fingers into the soft strands and yanking his head up away from her breasts and crashing her mouth back into his. Pushing her tongue into his mouth without a second thought as she ground her body against his, feeling a thrill from the slow, undulating movement and the friction between them. 

Tom squeezed at her breast as he pressed forward with his hips, there was no way she could be unaware of the effect she was having on him. He broke away from her lips and breathed her name, letting his hand slide up her chest to her neck where he pressed his thumb against the hollow at the base of her throat. 

“What are you doing to me?” she whispered against his lips, “You’re making me mad." 

Tom laughed softly before kissing along her jaw, his breathing heavy and his blood pumping noisily in his ears as he fought to regain control of himself. 

“Nothin’ mad about this,” he said softly, “Nothin’ mad about how badly I want you." 

“Jesus,” she whispered, her eyes closed as he kissed from below her ear up across her cheek to the tip of her nose. 

“We can’t do this." 

“Why not?” Tom replied, his voice still soft as he kissed softly up her nose to her forehead. 

“I- I’m…I’m married,” she said, stumbling over her words as she struggled to think straight. 

Tom brought his mouth back to hers and any further arguments died on her lips as his tongue slipped between them and everything else in the world ceased to exist. 

From somewhere in a distant room a clock chimed the hour and broke whatever spell had settled over Tom and Mrs Randall, the two of them drew apart, both breathing heavily, faces flushed and lips wet. 

“I have to go,” she breathed before bringing her hands to the front of her blouse and attempting to do the buttons up with shaking fingers. 

Tom’s own hands were steady, as he reached forward and took charge, buttoning up the final two tiny pearl buttons and smoothing his fingers over the collar. The silky fabric looked rumpled and creased but there wasn’t anything else to be done about it. Just like there was nothing to be done about her bee stung lips or the pink flush on her chest and neck. Tom was certain she’d never looked more beautiful. 

“I’ll come back tonight,” he said as he ran his hand over his own head, getting control over his hair. 

“Tom no, it’s not safe,” she replied, her eyes moving between his eyes and his lips. 

“I don’t care,” he said with a shrug. 

She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off with a kiss, just a quick, soft peck on the lips before straightening up and smiling. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said before taking the few steps back toward the hidden door and slipped through it. 

She could just hear his tread as he crossed the ballroom over the thundering of her heart and the thumping of the blood in her ears. She stayed put, the icy stone at her back suddenly much more uncomfortable without Tom’s warmth to counteract it. She placed a trembling hand over her racing heart and pressed her eyes closed. 

Whatever there was between her and Tom was madness, a risk to both of them in so many ways it should have been unthinkable but despite the risks she knew she would see him again and she would kiss him again, he’d hold her again and she’d taste his hot skin. The risks paled in comparison to the way he made her body feel. 

Once Mrs Randal felt she’d regained her composure she carried on along the staff corridor and up a tightly twisting flight of stairs to the 1st floor of the house before following another concealed corridor right into her own dressing room via another concealed door. 

Her gown for the party that night was hanging on the front of the wardrobe, the beaded bodice and skirt caught the last rays of weak sunlight that filtered through the west facing windows casting rainbows all over the pale yellow walls. 

“Mrs Randall?” a voice came from her bedroom where there was a maid laying a fire ready for the night, “can I draw you a bath?” her maid asked as Mrs Randall stepped into the main bedroom. 

The maid's eyes narrowed at the appearance of the lady of the house, her flushed cheeks and bright lips combined with the dishevelled look of her blouse and hair had the maid wondering what she could have been getting up to on a Saturday afternoon that left her looking like the village girls after they’d gone for a roll in the hay with the sailors. 

“Please,” Mrs Randall replied, her voice distant, “as hot as you can make it." 

The maid nodded and went to draw the bath. In the meantime Mrs Randall sat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in her lap, her mind unable to think of anything other than Tom Bennett and his addictive kisses. 

Once the bath was ready she undressed, leaving her blouse and skirt in a pile by the door that the maid attended to while  Mrs Randall sunk under the scalding hot water up to her neck. The maid passed her a bar of magnolia scented soap and left a large linen towel on the back of a chair for when she was finished. 

She stayed in the water far longer than normal, lathering the sudsy bar of soap between her hands over and over and once steaming water had turned cold she finally lifted herself out and stepped onto the waiting mat and wrapped herself in the towel. In the mirror over the small sink she noticed her cheeks were no longer flushed and her lips looked less swollen. 

After drying herself and dressing in her underwear Mrs Randal stepped through from her bathroom into the dressing room. 

The maid was waiting for her, looking bored, she’d been sitting on the seat at the dressing table, her feet swinging back and forth as she absent mindedly fiddled with the silver handle of the hairbrush. She shot to her feet when Mrs Randall entered the room. 

“Sorry,” the maid muttered, her eyes on the floor. 

“Don’t be sorry,” she replied, “I’ve been a rather long time."

“I’m very sorry Mrs Randall” the maid started as she carried a silk shift toward her, “But there are no more stockin’s, your last pair laddered and there’s no ration for them until next month." 

Mrs Randall just nodded as she slipped the shift over her head and let it fall down her body in cool, silky waves, a lace trim finishing about mid-calf. 

“Nothing to be done about that, I’m sure no one will notice." she replied. 

“I can draw a line on the back of your leg, I’ve seen it magazines, makes it look like you’ve got your stockings on even if you ain’t,” the maid offered, looking pleased with her suggestion. 

“What a clever idea, we can use brown eyeliner, that’ll do the trick." Mrs Randal agreed, smiling at the girl who seemed to flush with pride. 

An hour later she was standing with the Vice Admiral in the entrance hall of The Big House,  wearing a diamond tiara but no stockings and greeting guests as they arrived. 14 guests that evening, navy men and rich industry moguls with their wives who’d come to rub shoulders, discuss deals and drink someone else's wine. 

“A vision as always,” someone greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks and she laughed politely. 

The party ate their evening meal in the formal dining room before moving into the ballroom for dancing, drinking, gaming and cigar smoking for the men. Ever the hostess she made several rounds of the guests, checking if they needed more to drink, an after dinner snack or anything at all she could help with. 

By 11 pm her feet ached from standing in her heels and her cheeks ached from smiling and laughing. No one at the party would have ever known how she could think of nothing but Tom and the possibility he could be hiding around a corner, waiting for her. 

Mrs Randall excused herself from a circle of women who were discussing the trouble getting hold of fresh seafood in London and made her way out of the ballroom, turning to the right and around the corner where there was a small flight of stairs that would take her directly up to her rooms. The stairs were out of sight to anyone who wasn’t directly facing them. They were deeply carpeted like much of the house and a dark wooden bannister ran up one side. 

Sitting about 6 steps up was Tom Bennett, he lounged back on his elbows, his long legs stretched out in front of him and a smug smirk on his face.

“Jesus Tom,” she hissed, her hand flying to her chest, stopping in her tracks at the shock of seeing him sitting so brazenly in her house, “anyone could see you!”.

“No one has yet,” Tom shrugged, bringing one of his hands up to his mouth to run his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“And if they did it would be just about the last thing you'd ever do,” She hissed walking towards him, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the ballroom to make sure they were still alone. 

Tom laughed, looking like a man without a single worry on his shoulders. 

“Tom you really can't be here,” she said, her voice quiet as she reached the bottom of the flight of stairs. 

Having Tom in the house, while it was full of guests, suddenly brought the terrible risk they were both taking into sharp focus. If anyone saw the two of them there would be a series of very awkward questions, followed by nasty accusations and rumours running wild and while she might end up a social pariah he would lose his job and who knows what else. 

She took a few tentative steps up the stairs, stopping when she'd reached about the same place his knees were. The staircase was relatively narrow so Tom’s body was blocking her from moving much further. 

“Tom please, I need to get up the stairs." she said softly. 

“You could just,” he paused for a second to smirk up at her, “Step over me, Mrs Randall," 

She narrowed her eyes at him for a second before taking a further step up, bringing her feet level with his hips. She lifted her right leg, making to step across his body but in a single quick movement he had grabbed hold of her at the ankle, his warm fingers wrapping around the bare skin. She stumbled slightly, catching hold of the bannister for balance. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart started to thunder, heat spreading up her leg from the place Tom touched her. 

Never taking his eyes from hers, he ran his hand up the curve of her calf and back down to the delicate bone of her ankle. 

“No stockings,” he mused as he sat up and pressed a single kiss on the ankle bone. 

“There’s a war on,” she whispered, her voice shaky, “stockings are a luxury." 

Tom scoffed before turning his eyes to her ankle and how his hand looked holding it, he smirked and pressed a second kiss to the inside of her ankle. 

“You've got diamonds but a pair of nylons are out of the question?” 

His fingers traced up and down the curve of her calf again, his fingertips brushing the back of her knee. 

“Please Tom,” she pleaded softly, acutely aware that the risk of getting caught went up with every passing second. 

He looked up at her, his bright blue eyes looking dark and stormy. His fingers moved back down to grasp her ankle before he released her. She stumbled again as she tried to place both feet together and hold onto her balance. Tom stood in a smooth, swift movement with one of his arms slipping easily around her waist and steadying her.

Standing on the step above her Tom gazed down at her, studying the curves of her face and the colour of her eyes. 

“Please what?” 

“Go, before you're caught." 

“I’ll go, but you’ll be seein’ me again,” Tom replied before pressing his mouth to hers in a single bruising kiss. 

He loosened his hold on her waist and slipped down the stairs as quiet as a ghost, she watched him go, her whole body aching to be held by him again. After a few minutes to calm her thundering heart she returned to the party, trying to forget the feeling of his lips on her skin and hoping his warm hands hadn’t smudged the eyeliner running up the back of her leg. 

Tom was able to slip back into his barracks without being caught, he sank into his bed and closed his eyes with a smile on his lips. Despite the long day he felt as awake and energised as he ever had before, he knew he’d struggle to get a wink of sleep that night but somehow he didn’t mind that when he had every moment of that day to relive, every touch, moan, sigh and kiss was his to revisit and relive in detail. 

Sunday morning dawned bright, the Vice Admiral had started his day by attending the weekly Holy Communion held in the barracks chapel while she’d had coffee and toast in bed. 

After breakfast Mrs Randall had moved to the library and was sitting in a large wingback chair looking out across the lawns and down towards the waters edge, a small paperback sitting forgotten in her lap. Even from several miles away the smell of the salt water carried on the wind when it blew in the right direction and this morning she'd thrown the library windows open, blowing out the stale smell of cigar smoke and bringing in the salty tang of the sea air. She even occasionally heard the calls of the seagulls as they circled overhead. 

There was a polite knock on the open library door. 

“Yes?” she called. 

“Mrs Randall, the Vice Admiral would like to see you in his office,” the butler announced primly. 

“Summoned like a common sailor,” she muttered to herself as she stood and followed the man out of the library and toward his office. 

The butler knocked and opened the door on her behalf. The office beyond the door was brightly lit from the sun streaming through the window. A fog of cigar smoke hung heavily in the air, the desk was strewn with maps, letters and lists. On the top of all the others was a letter with the royal coat of arms at the top, followed by a short note, written in a small, tidy hand. 

“Ah darling,” he greeted, not looking up from the map spread in front of him.

“You wanted to see me." 

“Yes,” he replied, finally looking up at her. 

As their eyes met she felt nothing, no tingle of attraction, no spark of desire. She might have been looking at a stranger as much as she was her husband, the man she'd promised to love, honour and obey. His own eyes showed nothing more than friendly recognition, she was merely someone who lived in his house and nothing more. 

“I've been summoned to High Command,” he said, indicating the letter on the desk. 

“It’ll be two weeks of conferences, planning and marching orders I expect, dreadfully boring stuff,” he added. 

“Will you be shipping out afterwards?” She asked, her thoughts more focused on the men in the barracks just down the hill rather than the one sitting in front of her. 

“Oh possibly,” he replied with a shrug, “or there’s talk of a posting for me overseas, there in need of a man in India to run the Royal Navy posts over there and I heard last night I was top of the list,” he added, his body seemingly puffing up with pride. 

Mrs Randall nodded, still standing on the edge of the rug like a Private brought in for a reprimand. 

“That was all,” he said after a beat of silence, “and I'll be off tonight,” he turned his attention back to the map. 

She opened her mouth to speak but found there was nothing to say. She didn’t want to thank him for summoning her here and announcing his plans to her like she was a member of the staff, she didn’t want to know anymore about where he was going and she couldn’t think of a single pleasant thing to say before leaving. So she left in silence, closing the door behind her with a satisfying click. 

With little else to do she headed for the boot room, changing into a pair of hardy leather boots before striding out across the lawns towards the woodlands that made the eastern edge of the property. 

Once in the shadow of the trees she finally felt able to breathe clearly, the air here was fresh but held onto the scents of rotting leaves and stagnant water. The ground beneath her boots was soft with leaf mulch and scattered with broken twigs and other debris. In the trees birds trilled and chirped at each other, flitting from branch to branch, knocking loose leaves toward the ground. 

She'd not slept a wink the night before, her mind completely possessed by thoughts of Tom and his promise that she'd see him again. She'd fantasised about hearing the floorboards outside her door creak before her door was pushed open and he sought her out. But the morning had come and her room grew bright with the rising sun leaving her with a headache and sore eyes. 

The Vice Admiral would be gone for two weeks, and after those two weeks they might be packing up their lives and moving halfway around the world but with Tom time seemed different, he made minutes of stolen conversation feel like hours, he made an hour of stolen kisses feel like days, two weeks of him might just feel like a lifetime. News of the Vice Admiral’s trip to London would make its way round the barracks quickly enough and with a thrill she found herself believing last night's fantasies might become her reality.

[viaviv124]

Homicipher incorrect quotes

Mc: speaking of surprises, Crawly

Crawling: yea?

Mc: i've got something up my sleeve

Crawling: is it... A banana?

Mc: nO! It's an automated gun torrent! :D

Crawling: we're going to a candy store!?

Silvair: what? No! Candy stores are closed!

Gap: WE'RE GONNA ROB A CANDY STORE!? :D

Chopped: omagod u so tall you look like a giraffe :D

Scarletella: that's why you dead built like a baked bean

Chopped: a ba- A BAKED BEAN!? *bites his foot* BAKE BEAN THAT. BEAK BEAN THAT!

Mc: you're under arrest! Scarletella! Scar-face! Scar-poopy-poopy-butt!

Scarletella: you may be the- dont you ever fucking call me that again

Mc: what would you do if i was kidnapped?

Crawling: obviously come find yo-

Hood: nothing

Silvair: wait 20 minutes until they let you go voluntarily

Machete: i killed your entire family

Mc: huh? But i live alone-

Machete: huh? Then who were these people in your house-

Mc: there's people in my house!?

Machete: well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could've died! You're welcome!

Mc: Crawly am i ugly?

Crawling: nonsense, you're the most beautiful girl in the world, i see you right now!

Hooded Child: Hood am i ugly :D

Hood: very much.

Mc: hold on, the phone's calling. Hello?

Telephone Guy: how do you say uh corn in cantonese?

Mc: sok mai?

Telephone Guy: HAHA SOK MAI NUTS *hangs up*

Mc: ... Well they're not my friend anymore.

Scarletella to MC: so i send u a lil smiley face

So you send back a lil smiley face

So i write hey

And you write back hey

And i say hey what

And you say you said hey first?

And then i say okay

Crossaint emoji

Fuck u

Chopped: smile :D

Bride: sweet :D

Nurse: sister :D

Silvair: sadistic :D

Gap: surprise :D

Crawling: service :D

Stitch: CRAWLING IS A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER

*cue music*

Mc: name a country that starts with V!

Silvair: venezuela!

Machete: FINLAND! FINLAND

Silvair: OH MY DAYS. LOW IT. YOU SAID WHAT???

Machete: finland?

Silvair: DON'T CHAT TO ME. YOU'RE JOKING

Silvair: SHE SAID F MAN

Machete: what did u say

Mc: V?

Silvair: v.

Machete: VENUS

Silvair: ARGHHH

Mc: you wanna take things up to the bedroom?

Human: sure. ...what's up there?

Mc: btw did you bring protection

Human: WHY WHATS UP THERE!?

Chopped: i am very small. And i have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that i am under.

Scarletella: and without looking up at me Hood said "You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair"

Machete: am i boring? Sure. Social skills? None. But i'm loyal if you feed me and i will never leave you because, well, i need the food.

Crawling: i wouldnt wish that on my worst enemy-

Hood: i would. I would wish it on my worst enemy and then a whole list of other people that dont even qualify as my worst enemy. I'm not "above things" and at this point i'm existing out of spite

Gap: Your uber instincts cant handle my uber autism. Observe.

[insert him being in the fucking textbox an yoinking mc through it, escaping scar]

MC: You enter the dungeon, and on the far end of the room, you see... a door!

Masque: Can I seduce the door?

MC: No you cannot.

Stitch: Can I seduce the door?

MC: ALSO NO.

Crawling: Can I punch Stitch?

MC: ... Uh Stitch you take 4 damage

Stitch: Well I transform into a beaver.

MC: You... do that.

Stitch: Now can I seduce the door?

MC: STILL, NO

Crawling: I punch Stitch again.

MC: 3 more damage.

Machete: Can I fight the door?

MC: No!

Wheelchair: I also would like to fight the door!

MC: NO ONE CAN FIGHT THE DOOR.

Machete: I FIGHT. THE DOOR.

MC: You lose!

Machete: I fight you.

MC: Machete, take a walk!

Scarletella: Is the door dead or alive?

MC: ITS A DOOR?

Scarletella: Can I enslave its soul?

MC: How would you- No!

Chopped: Can I build a better door?

MC: ... Do you want to build a better door?

Chopped: I acquire lumber from the surrounding forest!

MC: Okay you do that.

Silvair: ... Is the door locked?

MC: No it isnt!

Silvair: I open the door.

MC: You do so! Inside is one small treasure chest!

Masque: I seduce the treaure chest~

MC: NO.

[edutainer2022]

A cold, vicious cyclone caught me unawares in the middle of the city the other day, right as I decided it was too hot for the coat. So, naturally, Scott gets under the weather in NYC, quite literally (and is being a stubborn doofus about it). It's an Earth and Sky fluff, but in the end, John decided he wanted in, so Earth and Star have a good hearty chat too. Virgil and John are being very good brothers. Absolutely nothing hurts. A greatful boop to @idontknowreallywhy, @astranite and @janetm74 for soft fabrics and Top Gun featuring.

UNDER THE WEATHER

The perks of living on a tropical island included not only it being remote, secluded and perfect to house a state-of-the-art rescue operation. It was also the whole being TROPICAL deal. Whenever one stepped out - it was reliably warm. The downside of living on a remote tropical island was losing the habit to navigate the regular four-seasons weather. Or the fickle New York City climate.

Truthfully, Scott didn't miss it much. Of course, he'd be fondly nostalgic about Kansas and snow slides, or, would occasionally get caught up in the inherent wistful mood of early NYC fall. But he definitely didn't miss THIS - being caught up in the icy torrent and orange warning winds two blocks away from the Tracy Tower. In nothing but his dress shirt and slacks.

They were at Tracy Industries headquarters with Virgil for the better half of the week. Virgil was involved in pre-screening the latest batch of R&D pitches, before they would move on to Brains and John for the final approval and production. Scott was held hostage by the Department of Finance for budget amendments and redistribution.

When the opportunity presented itself, well into the afternoon, to escape his own untimely death by paperwork or premeditated murder of a high ranking employee, Scott ran for the hills, slipping expertly beneath the radar of Kayo's handpicked security detail.

His underlying motive was quite noble - to walk to that coffe-shop Virgil liked and get his brother and himself some decent coffee. Virgil loved coffee and Scott loved Virgil - the rationale for his sortie was ironclad. Of course, pursuing exclusively immaculate fraternal care didn't provide for ditching his earpiece and wrist com. The hasty retreat also meant his designer (and more importantly in his current predicament - woolen) jacket got left hanging on the back of his chair by the bay window. He forgot this wasn't Tracy Island, the sun outside the window and climate control in the offices and their penthouse at the top of the Tracy Tower lulled his vigilance. And now, without a comm to get a timely warning from Eos or to call a cab (or the security SUV with a profound apology, or One from the landing pad on the roof), Scott was caught in the sudden onslaught of a cyclone.

The prudent thing to do would be to go back to the Tower. So, of course, Scott decided in favor of the opposite and broke into a run for the rest of the distance to the coffee place. The relentless laws of physics - speed and resistance - made sure he was soaked through the very last thread of clothing on his body and chilled to the bone by the time he got there.

His hair plastered to the forhead, the supershiny gel having lost the round with the freezing downpour, rivers of water drained down from the top of his head all the way past the suit slacks and dress shoes splashed in muck. There were poodles of water INSIDE his shoes. His socks were wet. His shirt was drenched. The squelching of the fabric as he walked up to the counter suggested he was wet EVERYWHERE. Yuk! That, at least, he didn't know as he was getting numb all over from the cold.

Scott was aware he probably looked like a wet stray cat. It was that or his shirt became see-through in the rain - as a barrista with a cute smile tried to waive his fee for the coffee. Unacceptable! He paid for two extra large, extra strong brews,  and rushed out, stifling a sneeze. Must have been the shirt, since one of the take-away cups had a phone number scrolled on the side. Which was a small consolation, as he broke into a jog again, making his way back through the raging elements.

***

The Tracy Industries front desk in the lobby, thankfully, didn't detain him, so he snuck into the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone. It was getting increasingly hard to hold the coffee cups - his hands were numb and shaking, and his teeth were clattering in time with full body shivers. Scott was sure he had hit the executive floor button, but the elevator made no stop, gliding all the way up to the private penthouse. Figures. He'd probably earned himself a lecture not only from the on site security team, but from John as well.

The door slid open on his approach across an antechember and he was welcomed in the hallway by a wall of flannel presided by furrowed black brows. Scott brandished the procured coffee cups like a shield, instinctively. He would sound more nonchalant if he were not stuttering from the cold.

"Hey, Virg, I got your favorite coffee!"

His face muscles were too frozen for a smile.

Virgil was holding a massive towel, or maybe a full body length terrycloth sheet, like an unfurled banner, and appeared completely unmoved by Scott's heroic endeavor.

"How very kind of you! Now step on the rug and strip. I'm not mopping after you!"

Scott looked down and found himself standing, indeed, on one of Gordon's old bright pool towels. It was already soaked halfway through with all the water Scott was dripping. He felt marginally ashamed as the elevator likely sported poodles too. But it was hard to maintain several self-deprecating emotions at once, being that cold and miserable.

The styrofoam cups were tentatively deposited on the glove table. Scott peeled off his soaked dress shirt and shed the trousers more than eagerly, toed off wet (and probably ruined too) shoes. Francesco the designer would bite his head off. But that could wait. He needed something warm off the rack now! A move off the towel was aborted, however, by the reappearance of the Eyebrows over the terrycloth edge.

"Uh-uh! Everything, Scooter! You're NOT wedging your undies behind the shower stall. Again!"

Scott sighed. That was ONE TIME! He was sneaking back past the curfew and tried to conceal evidence. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. The moment the last wet cloth on him joined the pile on the floor, he was wrapped head to ankles in the sea of soft blue fabric and steered in the general direction of the shower.

"You know the drill! Try to warm up under hot water as long as you can. If you feel lightheaded - yell, I'll be right here."

The scolding shower helped somewhat. He could still feel the freezing grip around his ribs, but his extremities were not as numb anymore, at least. There was a stack of warm sleepwear waiting for him as he stepped out in the cloud of fog. Scott smiled - it was a motley assembly of his own clean trunks and sweatpants, a well-worn soft flannel shirt and a Denver Engineering hoodie, that swapmed his frame. Hair toweled off and curling every which way, he was mostly ready to venture back out into the colder world, but felt dead tired.

There was a nest of throw pillows and a blanket, assembled on the couch, unfolded to full length, in the living room. Scott made an immediate beeline for it and tugged the blanket around his shoulders, trying to fold his feet beneath as well. The shivers were crawling back. Virgil emerged from a door that was decidedly neither Scott's nor his own room, carrying a pair of fluffy bright orange socks and an extra comforter.

***

After some gentle, yet determined, coaxing, the orange socks were tugged onto Scott's icy cold feet and a second blanket was tucked snuggly around him. Virgil settled by his side against a couple of snatched pillows, pondering idly that they would need to get a spare weighted blanket for the penthouse too. They would also owe John more socks. The Scott-sized frozen burrito shuffled closer and Virgil wrapped an arm around his wayward big brother, offering more of his body warmth. The chills worried Virgil. Scott was fit and healthy, but he was chronically exhausted and hadn't been exposed to cyclones without IR-grade water-proof gear, or at least a raincoat, in a while.

"So... you wanna watch Top Gun?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Scott's face immediately shot up, beaming with a thousand suns. He also did an enthusiastic giant caterpillar wiggle, blanket and all. Virgil thought in that moment his core memory was probably Scott, all bright eyes, gap-teeth smile and dimples, bouncing with excitement and unbridled energy. He wished he got to revisit it more often.

The opening frames rolled on the holoscreen to the sound of the all too familiar Anthem. Virgil finally reached for so hard earned cup of coffee, now reheated, and couldn't contain a snort.

"Aw, Scooter, you actually scored a number for your troubles?"

It was obvious Scott wasn't going to last through the movie - his eyes were droopping and voice slurred, mostly muffled by plaid flannel.

"M'dashin'!"

A smaller hologram appeared at that exact moment on Virgil's comm. John looked way too amused:

"Actually, that's the number of a homeless shelter around the corner from the coffee shop."

Virgil's laughter full on rumbled at that. He raised a hand to ruffle the back of big brother's head:

"Oh yeah, you're a dashing idiot."

"M'cold."

The muffled complain was exemplified by a full body shiver.

"Sure, Scotty! You're a cold, wet, dashing idiot."

There was no protest to that, just a soft, slightly stuffed snore. Virgil adjusted the hold on the now sound asleep biggest brother to snuggle him closer.

***

The F-14A Tomcat was playing chicken with a MiG-28 on the screen. John's hologram lingered. Virgil could tell the space ginger was concerned more than he let on. John finally spoke.

"Is he gonna be alright? Should I cancel his Friday?"

Untamed by the gel, the now dry and fluffy ringlets made it difficult to reach Scott's forhead, but the back of Virgil's hand found the way, careful not to disturb. The skin was cool to his touch, no signs of fever.

"He'll be alright. He just needs to warm up and sleep it off."

He moved to rub a soothing circle over Scott's back as the big brother relaxed deeper into sleep. It was sorely tempting to clear Scott's schedule for the next day and mandate more rest. But Virgil was aware it would pose a risk of Scott, not held down by a cold, hairing off to the island in One, insisting to be back on the roster, if not on TI business. That would be a shame, as a big part of the weekend, Virgil had been looking forward to, was going to see Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera with biggest brother.

John  was still hovering, unconvinced. Virgil siged, but smiled:

"Well, Johnny, unless you want to come down from orbit and join me at the box, I'd rather our reservation to a sold out six months in advance opera didn't fall through."

John looked appropriately appalled and quite earnest:

"I love you more than my life, brother, but I do draw a line at too many people doing too many loud things in a confined space. Call me Johnny and see how often I come down from orbit!"

Virgil stifled a huff of laughter, as Scott shuddered and groaned quietly, but, thankfully, didn't wake up. The warm-up circles over his back and shoulders resumed. Virgil hugged him closer. John shifted attention to the swaddled biggest brother in fond amusement.

"What did you bribe him with, anyway?"

Virgil didn't have the energy to protest.

"Apfelschtrudel from that place Gordon found. And he can preview the R&D projects I selected for Brains, if he gets bored. No call-outs, no reports, no work mail though."

The gazed Virgil fixed on John was full of fair warning. It was John's turn to smile.

"Don't worry. You love watching opera and Scott loves watching us doing what we love. He'll be fine. And locked out of his work accounts, for good measure."

Silence stretched for several moments, interrupted only by Scott's soft snoring.

Virgil looked down on the slumbering brother in his arms, then back at John.

"I wish he did more of what he loves. Just Scott. For himself - not for us, or for the company, or the world."

That wasn't an issue easily solved in a casual conversation through an impromptu movie night. If at all. John knew that too, all too well. The brother in orbit chewed on his lip, lost in thought.

"You could sugget he get coffee in that place again. She's a Hudson Uni postgraduate. Cultural Anthropology."

Virgil was mostly used to John's the Resident Genius thoughts veering in unexpected directions, but the ginger thoroughly lost him there.

"Huh? Who's a postgrad where?"

John rolled his eyes in exasperation commonly reserved to explaining things to the bristling rescuees and a five year old Gordon.

"The barrista that gave Scott a shelter number today. She works part time and volunteers there often. One time she even volunteered at the IR disaster site. Remember, the sinkhole? She seems nice."

Top Gun closing scenes were replaced by assorted social media pages and university profile pages. Virgil gulped.

"John! You can't go doxxing random people!"

John's hologram up in orbit shrugged:

"I have Eos run background checks automatically on anyone who comes in contact with you guys. We can't take any chances!"

There was sound and, sadly, field proved reasoning behind what nearly cost them barely averted tragedy on several occasions. But still... Virgil kept staring at a pretty blond smiling from the holoscreen.

"That gotta be illegal!"

"Only if I get caught."

Turquoise eyes twinkled in nothing remotely resembling remorse. He still didn't cut off the call.

"Do you wanna come down here for the weekend?"

Virgil suddenly felt the need to have more brothers accounted for and within reach. There was hope in the way John actually gave it a thought.

"Only if you don't make me go to the opera. I ordered you pizza, by the way."

A wave of warmth washed over Virgil and he tightened the grip on Scott's frame instinctively.

"You're my favoretest brother not asleep at the moment!"

He was graced with another eyeroll.

"You spend entirely too much time around Gordon. I'll have Eos screen the calls and land the elevator on the Tower tomorrow evening, your time, if there's no major catastrophe."

Virgil resisted the urge to fistpupm in the air. Definitely too much time around Gordon. Another thought occurred to him as he remembered a detail John mentioned when vetting the unsuspecting compassionate barrista.

"Hey, John! Could you..."

"Right ahead of you, brother. An anonymous donation was made to the homeless shelter and free kitchen an hour ago."

And they said Virgil and Scott were uncanny telepathic. Then again, it was to be expected. Anyone who was genuinely kind and considerate to their favorite Idiot, or attempted to course-correct his destruction path, inadvertently gained a lifelong ally in every one of them. Maybe he really needed to nudge Scott to go get more of the good coffee tomorrow. Equipped with an umbrella that time around.

[thestreamweaver]

Just remembered the "What If V2" series of the older marvel comics. Ororo and Logan's daughter Kendall/Torrent was soo cool!

Also (alongside Logan looking so comfortable), they have a very young son too, but he wasn't named.

What do you think his name is or should be? What kind of powers would he have?

I don't know this for sure... but I heard a theory that his name might have actually been (....wait for it....) Evan Munroe...

I don't know if this is actually true or just someone tossing flames, but if it was, then this would make a lot of sense

It seems kind of far-fetched to think this to many, myself included... but if you look at different places in the episodes of Evolution where Evan Daniels is, there are subtle hints. Like when he signed up for the skateboard competition...

Spoiler alert: he didn't sign on where the D's were...

Also how Ororo is specially connected to him (of course if he is her nephew then she'd be particularly interested in him just in general) it also looks like he and Logan got familiarized a lot in the show to......... of course that would happen with the whole teacher/ student thing, but I personally think there's more to it. I input it in the fanfics that I write.

Personally, I have a theory that Ororo and Logan were together before the series started and had a son together, then they were forced to split ways because of Weapon X. When he disappeared, she went to look for him and had to leave their son with her sister and brother in law. After it became clear that Logan was so debilitated mentally that he couldn't be the dad they all wanted and needed him to be at that time, she decided that it would be best for everyone involved to leave little Evan with his aunt and uncle, and they ended up raising him as their own. He found out the truth during the show, and that's one reason he acted out so much... they just hid it because you know how Marvel's handled that couple so far 😞

The only countering factors would be I don't think Ororo would abandon her child like that... but then again, she loves Logan more than anyone ever, so maybe her heart just couldn't take it 🤷🏼‍♀️

I could debate myself and others on the subject for days, hahaha 😅

But, back to the original question..... I don't know... it could be my theory, or it could be something else... I have a name for one of their kids in my fanfics. Their youngest son (so far 🤭) is Ayotunde. Which means "joy has come again" in Yoruba.

What would your preferred name for him be? Do you have a name idea?

[ariadne-mouse]

(hey there! augentrust from main) I'm very curious about the unhinged AU part 7 and the star trek crossover -- whichever you haven't answered or have a particular fondness for!

hey there augentrust from main :D

The Unhinged AU is the original working title of The Kitchen Sink, a modern AU comedy in which Essek is a fashion supermodel and Caleb is a jack-of-all-trades, and the tone rollercoasters between earnest and absurd. I have been stalled on Chapter 7 for a while now, but I will get over it! Here is a snippet:

Essek was a man alone in a torrent of sound. “So at first I was thinking, maybe we should try something NEW you know but what if it’s bad and we’re having this special time and the food is ruining it?  And with you knowing Caleb already and this whole thing being like, so star-crossed you know, we have to go see my mama.  She’ll love you! And you'll love her, obviously.” (Okay, so technically he wasn’t alone, because the sound was coming from somewhere, and that somewhere was Jester.) He was used to Jester’s peppy texts and, as of today, growing familiar with her vivacious demeanor in person.  But she had reached an intensity now that he could only ride out like rapids in a river. “I don’t know that star-crossed is the right descriptor here, Jester, unless you mean we are part of a conflict between two families that ends in death and tragedy?”  Caleb, now dressed, strolled up while applying sunscreen to his nose and ears.   (Fine, fine, Essek wasn’t even a man alone, because Caleb was here too.  However, with a day so full of excitement, Essek thought he might be excused for his internal dramatics.) Automatically, Essek clocked Caleb’s outfit: a tacky floral shirt in pale pink, worn open over a white tank top, paired with cut-off jean shorts whose hems suggested Caleb had done the modification himself.  Gone were the good leather shoes, replaced by the same squeaky flip-flops he���d been wearing in the studio, which were blue and cheap and yes, continued to squeak a little on every other step.   There might not be familial conflict or death occurring amongst them today, but there was a tragedy, and it was this ensemble. He'd looked far better with nothing on at all.

[turpalauri]

Glamtober 2024, Day 31: Spooky or Supernatural

Tuonetar, the death-land hostess, Ancient hostess of Tuoni, Brings him pitchers filled with strong-beer, Fills her massive golden goblets, Speaks these measures to the stranger: "Drink, thou ancient Wainamoinen, Drink the beer of king Tuoni!"

– The Kalevala by Elias Lönnrot, translated by John Martin Crawford

(The beer may or may not contain poison serpents and worms and stuff C:)

So this is kind of my take on what Tuonetar, the Queen of the Underworld in Finnish mythology, would look like. This was so much fun to do ! :D

Glam details ☆

Head: Republican Signifier's Horns (Dye 1: Jet Black) Body: Gown of Eternal Devotion (Dye 1: Soot Black, Dye 2: Ash Grey) Hands: Augmented Torrent Armguards of Aiming (Dye 1: Soot Black) Legs: Common Makai Markswoman's Quartertights Feet: Omicron Boots of Aiming Ears: Fang Earrings

I forgot that the head piece is only for Casting jobs, oopsie

[bits-and-babs]

🐺 Dark Paradise

expect more of these cause the love I have for Lana Del Ray is strong.

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Oral (f receiving), sad af, mentions of violence, SAD AF. 

oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist

Arching your back from the bed, you sob out the name that had repetitively dripped from your lips all evening. You’d craved him for so long, what feels like an eternity, begging him to return to bed and relinquish you from the sleeplessness that had been forcing your eyelids open in the darkness. 

The candle on the bedside table flickers a warm gold across the bare skin of your thighs, crowning the Prince with a gilded halo of light. His brown curls wrap around your fingers as you clutch at them for dear life, bracing against the overwhelming torrent of feeling that only he could bless you with, his magic mouth and tongue enchanting you with a bliss that consistently took your breath away. 

“Oberyn-” you sob softly, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the fabric of the pillow that you rest your head against. He hums softly in response, the vibration against your clit that he has wrapped his lips around makes your eyes roll back into your skull, whimpering as the way it skitters down your spine and sparks across your extremities. 

“Oh- Please don’t stop,” you beg him softly, almost breathless as he pulls wave after wave of bliss between your thighs as they tremble against his ears. Your heels push into his spine, between his shoulder blades, but Oberyn doesn’t complain. Instead, he continues to assault your poor clit with his mouth, his tongue, raking his teeth over it. 

“D-Don’t-” you wail, more tears spilling out and wetting your lashes, “Don’t leave- Please don’t leave me like this-”

Oberyn pauses his ministrations, a frown creasing between his brows as he watches your pained expression. 

“My love,” he coos softly, resting his head just below your navel. His curls tickle your skin, his deep brown eyes gazing up at you with confusion. “What makes you request such a thing?”

Sobbing into the sea breeze, you scrub at your face with your palms and dig your nails into your hairline. The agony rips through your chest and buckles your knees, dropping them into the sand as you collapse at the waterline of the Dornish sea. It’s dark, the golden sands lit only by the torch that smoulders in the grains, discarded by your trembling hands. 

‘Today is not the day I die,’ he had promised you that day. He had kissed at your temple, offered the kind smile that he always blessed you with whenever his eyes caught your own. Tywin Lannister’s eyes had been filled with pride, vindication when The Mountain had gouged out those beautiful oak irises with his thumbs, smothering Oberyn and snuffing him out. 

In a way, he hadn’t died that day at all. He haunted you constantly, visiting you in your dreams and entering your mind at every waking moment, refusing to leave. 

Laying down in the sand, you wail his name, begging him to return to bed and relinquish you from the sleeplessness that had been forcing your eyelids open in the darkness, always thinking of him.

[canadiannationalfox]

Murder Drones Fanfic - Cypress Trees and A Good Boy - Tessa and Butler N story (non-ship) TW// Depression and Su1c1de mention

a 12 year old Tessa is dealing with a lot, she goes on a walk at night but needs someone to help her.

Warning: contains mention of child neglect, child abuse, suicide, and depression

The autumn air prickled the girl's skin as she opened her bedroom window, but she didn't care. Her conscience screaming at her, "Go, now... go, run," She glanced back at J who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed, and N who had fallen asleep sitting upright on the chair Tessa stored her stuffed animals on during the day.

"They... they don't need me," the ebony haired human girl reassured herself as she climbed out the window, shutting it softly behind her so it wouldn't make a sound. She climbed down off the windowsill and began her journey down the garden path and through the marsh.

The song of the few remaining frogs greeted Tessa, and yet the girl didn't react to it how she normally would. Continuing her journey across the property in somber silence.

Normally, the girl would walk under the willow tree and into the graveyard, but she walked west of the tree, through the wild flowers that were starting to die off from the colder weather, her night gown catching the wind yet her striped black and white leggings kept her warm. The longer sections of her hair trailed behind her as she ran to the cypress trees that were coming into view, the ones that made her think of Starry Night. She walked up to the trees and sat looking outward, there was a steep drop off to a lake below, she heard the ebbing of the water as it was louder thanks to the night fall wind. She looked down at the water, her grey eyes filling with tears, she could almost imagine the wind calling her name in a soft voice.

"I wouldn't be able to get to terminal velocity, but... the sharp rocks could do the trick," she glanced back to the manor in the distance after her whispered assessment. Her hair being pushed by the wind so the longer sections flew in front of her face, wicking away some of her teardrops. She turned back to the cliffside, staring down, her breathing turned to sobs as she fell to her knees. Her wrists ached from today, an accident, she had insisted to J, but that was a lie.

"The little match girl..." Tessa spoke with a whimper, "She... she got to be happy..." she inched closer to the edge, her soft voice almost lost in the torrent of air, "It's for the best," The girl felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, being slightly startled by a pair of snow-white LED eyes of a little butler drone.

"Hi Tessa!" the curly-haired butler drone greeted cheerfully.

"Eep!" the little Aussie girl squeaked as she was greeted by N, her beloved little butler.

"I noticed you left your bed and the window was open," the drone trilled sweetly, "A night walk is sure fun though." He kept holding Tessa's shoulder, noticing the tears in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Tessa looked away, she knew he meant his best. The little Aussie voice quivered as she asked, "D-do you ever feel..." she hesitated, knowing that he was a delicate soul and she'd have to be gentle with her words, "... unhappy..."

N pulled Tessa into a hug and responded, "I do sometimes, but, it's hard to stay sad long with you around."

The 12 year old Elliott heiress felt more tears coming on as she hugged the butler drone back. "D-do you ever wish... you weren't ever built?" she began to ask, her voice shaking like a scared puppy, "L-like you don't want to be here, at all?" She leaned into the hug more, she held back her sobs to not make her precious little ray of sunshine more worried.

N rubbed his friend's back, he didn't realize how deep this well of emotions went. "Tessa," he began gently, letting go of her but still holding her hands in his, "I enjoy every day since I was built by you, but... sometimes it can be scary. Do you want to talk about your feelings?"

The girl sat on the grass next to her butler drone, she hugged his legs and began to explain, sugar-coating the scarier parts, "What do you do when someone who's supposed to care for you hurts you a lot, and the other someone who was there for you since you were little now doesn't care anymore?" she meant her mother and father when she said this, she rubbed her wrists that were aching a little from being chained up this afternoon. Her grey eyes twinkled, the moonlight making her tears look like orbs of crystal while they ran down her freckled face. "What did I do to deserve it? Why do I want to-" she stopped herself, explaining as she looked up to the drone's worried eyes, "Run away, where no one can find me..."

N got down to Tessa's level, he had seen many times when J would do that and give some amazing emotional wisdom, but this was N, he just didn't have that knowledge or emotional maturity, but he offered gently, a story he once read. "Once upon a time, there was a king, and he had a troubled heart. He asked a blacksmith to make him something that would help make his sorrowful heart hurt less."

Tessa felt odd that N was telling her a story, but she let him finish.

"The blacksmith returned later that day with a golden ring, he presented it to the sorrowful king, and when the king saw the words engraved upon it, he smiled," the butler told, a smile in his voice, despite the worried expression, "This too shall pass" He pulled in the girl for a hug.

The Elliott girl started crying, holding onto N like he was a life preserver after she almost drowned in a pool.

"It might be bad right now, but it won't be bad forever, we still make happy memories through all the scary times," the butler explained soothingly

The girl hugged her drone silently, they listened to the sound of the waves at the cliff's bottom, looking out to the stars. Eventually, Tessa found her voice, she remarked softly, "When I'm big and strong, some day... I'll get far far away from here. And we will all be under a big starry sky again... and all of this, will be a memory"

N reassured kindly, while smiling to his favourite human, "I'm glad you didn't run away, Tessa. All of us adore you; me, V, J, and even the maids and butlers without names all like you lots." The snowy-haired drone even trilled, "One day you'll be our boss and you'll be able to keep us all safe and you'll be free to do whatever you'd like."

This made the ebony haired girl laugh a little, she let go of the butler and looked up to the crescent moon in the sky. "I can't wait to be in charge, the first thing I'd do is give you all the names I wanted to give you, your name will be Nate, which means Gift from God."

The butler smiled at that name, responding joyfully, "I can't wait to be called that! It sounds nice!" He stood up and held his hand out. "Let's get you back home, okay? I'll make you waffles in the morning."

The girl asked curiously, accepting the butler's hand up, "Will they have strawberries?"

"Always!" the drone insisted happily, pulling Tessa to her feet before they began heading back to the manor. Nate giggled cheerfully, "I love your new hairstyle, by the way, Tess. It looks great."

Tessa knew her hair was breaking off lately due to not eating enough and she had to cut off most of the longer bits with a razor comb, but still wanting to protect Nate, she giggled, "I had a little accident and I thought, hey, it'd be fun to try something uneven. Might as well, makes it easier for Jaybird to brush."

The two laughed together at Tessa's reasoning as they headed back to the manor, and while the next day wouldn't be that much better, at least Tessa knew in her heart that she was loved, even if it wasn't by her parents, the drones of the manor were her support system, and that gave her courage, only returning to the cliff side to practice the harp or for reading books during the day.

The End

[toon-tales]

Hiya! I'm back with another, as you can tell, Trolls fic, cause, well, you can never get enough, am I right?

Now, this one is a bit different cause it's the first time I write about something other than Broppy... DawnDory!

Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, enjoyyyy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perfect

"I'm sorry, Delta…"

"But… I thought you loved me…"

"I do! I really do! I just… I can't take any responsibilities right now, alright?"

"Am I really a burden to you?"

"It's not your fault, it's mine! I am the problem, not you!"

"You wanna be alone? Be alone."

—------------

John's eyelids flung wide, his form erupting into an upright stance with the suddenness of a thunderclap. He drew in the morning air, a deep, steadying torrent that filled his lungs, whispering a silent mantra to calm the tempest within. Inhale. Exhale. It was nothing more than a dream, a figment woven from the threads of a restless mind. A mere dream, he reassured himself, yet it clung to his consciousness with the vividness of reality.

He sighed as he leaned back against the cushions.

This was the day.

The turquoise-haired forced himself to his feet, grabbing the usual leather jacket and red goggles and getting ready for the day. He opened his bedroom door, the faint creek alarming his brothers of his presence. He walked in with slow, sluggish steps, yawning and stretching still. Bruce lazily got up to make him his plate, while Clay and Floyd only gave weak waves of their hands. Branch didn't even look up, as expected.

"Mornin', guys," John mumbled, taking a seat between the youngsters.

Then silence rang again in the room. Awkward silence, you can call it. But this wasn't new, things were different now, and the Brozone members have been trying to reconnect since the reunion. Even if it was a bit difficult at times.

"So," Clay was the first to speak. There was a small grin on his face as he muttered, "Which chapter are you in now?"

John's eyes lit up. "I don't remember, but it's the one where Charles gets arrested."

"First or second time?"

"He gets arrested again?!"

The lime-haired troll looked away with a slight cough. "Oops."

"Bro, you spoiled it!"

"I didn't know you read that slow!"

"That hurts, man…" the older said dramatically. "I read at my own pace."

Branch's eyes darted between his bickering brothers. "Tale of two cities?" he guessed. They nodded.

"Does he know that Sydney d-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" John covered his ears and closed his eyes. "I don't want any spoilers!"

Branch smirked, eyes still fixed on his meal. "So, Clay, how did you feel about the part where-"

"Stop it, Branch!"

The duo exchanged small smiles.

"So, what did you plan for tonight's party?" Bruce chimed in. "Poppy's counting on us."

And it seemed like the question summoned fire inside the eldest's eyes. "I made the ultimate playlist!" he exclaimed excitedly, vocalizing the' ultimate' for dramatic effect. "We'll burn the stage tonight!"

The other Brozone members exchanged knowing smirks.

—------------

"Now, we have blue cupcakes for the Techno trolls, red ones for the Rock trolls, and orange ones for the Country trolls, purple ones for Funk…" Poppy trailed off, trying to recall the colors that should be on the table. She was missing two. "And… who else?"

"Classic and Pop?" Branch suggested with a knowing smile.

"Oh, yeah!" The girl beamed. "We need yellow and pink cupcakes!" She made her way to the kitchen for the third time that day, her eyes scanning the counter for the familiar small vials. She let out a loud, "Found them!" as she held them in her hands.

Branch looked on as his girlfriend poured countable droplets of yellow in a batter-filled bowl then handed it to him while she stirred her own pink. His gaze darted between the two bowls. "You sure this much food coloring isn't unhealthy?" he asked.

She waved him off. "Branch, I eat tons of colorful cupcakes every day and I'm perfectly fine!"

"If you say so, then," he muttered, finally bringing the spoon back and forth between the mixture.

"Make sure you stir in the same direction." 

He nodded.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Poppy suddenly exclaimed, pulling out another bowl seemingly out of thin air. "I made some for you!"

The dull troll raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Mhm!" she hummed. "Zero food coloring and a teeny tiny bit of sugar! Just like you like it!"

"Oh…" He didn't expect that. "Thanks, Poppy."

Her smile widened. "So, how are things with your bros?"

"Good, I guess." Branch replied simply.

Poppy paused. This wasn't his usual calm tone. This was a sad one. "Hey, is everything alright?"

He nodded.

"Is… is Floyd getting worse or something…?"

"No, no," he quickly assured her, "It's John, actually…"

"John?"

"Yeah…" Branch stopped. He didn't know how to explain it. "He's been… off…"

"Off, how?" Poppy persisted.

"I don't know how to explain it… he's been acting weird since the day you told us you were throwing this party."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I did!" Branch exclaimed. "But he always brushes me off!"

"Maybe he just needs time." Poppy moved closer to her boyfriend, gently brushing the flour that had managed to stick to his cheek with her thumb before she went to grab the frosting. His hand was on the exact spot she had touched when she was placing a tray of the treat in front of him.

He slowly rested his palm on the tray, his cheek getting slightly cold as the breeze hit it again. "You think?" he asked in a small voice. Poppy nodded.

"You only began to open up to me a few months ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but… we're trying to reconnect, and he's not helping us."

Poppy pondered for a minute. "Maybe he's mad at something?"

"More like sad." He didn't even know he had this feeling about his brother.

—------------

Red like the berries he was holding was her hair.

A shade of green he didn't quite know the name of was her fancy tail. It was the same as his hair, though not really the same.

He smiled faintly when he stumbled upon another flower. Orange petals, deep green leaves, just like her skin and eyes. Now the palette in his head was complete.

Perfect, as he liked to call it.

Delta was perfect, unconditionally perfect, for some reason, and John sometimes found himself mesmerized by the effect the country troll had on him. Why did all the standards of 'Perfect' fall out when it came to her?

In the quiet moments of twilight, when the world seemed to hold its breath, John Dory's thoughts would invariably drift to Delta Dawn. She was a melody that lingered in the air long after the song had ended, a tapestry of colors in a world that often appeared monochrome to him. Her laughter was a symphony, her smile a beacon; she was the embodiment of a serenity he had known only in fleeting moments. It was in her presence that the cacophony of his insecurities fell silent, where the relentless pursuit of perfection seemed to pause, and for a moment, everything was enough.

John often pondered the enigma that was Delta. She was like the sun - radiant, life-giving, and yet, impossible to hold. Yet he had let her go when he had her in his amrs. She was the gentle pull of the moon on the tides of his heart, a force that moved him in ways he couldn't understand. Her spirit was untamed, a river that flowed with a purpose all its own, carving paths through the bedrock of his defenses. In her eyes, he saw the reflection of a man he could be, free from the chains of doubt that shackled him.

The day he left her was a day the music died within him. The colors of the world dimmed, and he wandered through life in a grayscale landscape, haunted by the ghost of her perfection. He had convinced himself that he was unworthy, that his flaws were canyons too vast to cross, that his love was too shallow to quench the thirst of someone so profound. Yet, in the solitude of his regret, he realized that Delta never sought perfection; she sought him, just as he was, with all his imperfections.

Delta was the dream he dared not dream, for fear it would crumble under the weight of reality. She was the question to which he had no answer, the puzzle whose pieces he held but couldn't place. In her absence, he learned that perfection wasn't a destination but a journey, one that they could have embarked on together, discovering the beauty in the imperfections that made them uniquely themselves.

Now, as the years have passed, the memory of her is a bittersweet refrain that echoes in the hollows of his heart, somehow still pulling him from the grips of a gray heart, a gray form. He now knows that it was not her perfection that he loved, but the way she made the ordinary extraordinary, the way she saw the world not as it was, but as it could be. And though she may never want to have a word with him, she remains the compass that guides him, the north star in the constellation of his life's journey.

For John, Delta Dawn will always be the one that got away, not because she was perfect, but because she was real. She was the love that slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, a reminder of what could have been if only he had been brave enough to hold on. And in every sunset, in every whisper of the wind, he hears the faintest trace of her song, calling him to remember, to hope, and perhaps, to love again.

And that's what he was going for.

Her love.

Her forgiveness.

—------------

He had to find her.

John's gaze wandered through the place, the lights being an obstacle with their blinding colors and hues. But he could swear he had just seen her. Where did she go? She was just there, right in front of him!

"Delta-"

"You're John Dory from Brozone, right?"

"Can I have an autograph?"

"Is it true you're making a performance tonight?"

A sea of questions, one the leader didn't quite know how to answer, or where to begin, for that matter.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied hastily, not sure what he was saying. His eyes were still on her-he lost her!

"Can you let me through?" It came out more furious than he had intended. But it went unnoticed by the small crowd around him, they were more focused on his frantic steps as he managed to escape the circle they had trapped him in.

"Where is she?" John muttered to himself, turning around like a madman as his eyes longed to spot the familiar red hair, or green tail, or-

"Looking for someone, John Dory?"

"Delta-" John's voice trembled as he turned around, his gaze locking onto the cascade of familiar fierce red hair that had haunted his dreams for years. The party around them seemed to fade into a hush, the laughter and music dimming into the background as he took a tentative step forward. His heart was a frenzied drummer, pounding against the walls of his chest with a mix of dread and longing. Years had passed, years filled with the echo of her name and the weight of his own insecurities that had driven him away.

And now he was facing her again.

"Delta, I–" he tried again, his voice stronger, but the words clung to his tongue, heavy with the gravity of what he needed to say. He needed her to know that not a day had gone by that he hadn't thought of her, that the void she left was as vast and as desolate as a night sky without stars.

Delta's arms were crossed in an impatient manner at this point. It only added to his anxiety.

He had rehearsed this moment, practiced the lines, but now they seemed inadequate, pale imitations of the torrent of emotions that threatened to overflow. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he was a fool, that he had let his insecurities dictate the course of a love that was meant to be timeless.

As he finally found the courage to hold her hands, the world around them seemed to pause, the air charged with the electricity of a moment that held the power to change everything. "Delta, please," he whispered, his voice laced with a vulnerability that he had never allowed himself to show. "I left because I was afraid–afraid that I wasn't enough, that I couldn't be the man you deserved."

The confession hung between them, a fragile bridge over a chasm of years and unspoken words. He saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the dawning realization of the depth of his regret. He didn't need to say more; the truth was there, laid bare for her to see, a silent plea for redemption.

He waited for words he hadn't yet spoken to sink into her, with bated breath and a hopeful heart, only to hear the words he had long feared to hear.

"I'm sorry, John." She turned away, ready to leave the past troll. But he was holding her wrist, silently begging her to stop, a touch she wanted to run away from yet found herself leaning into.

"Delta, please, just-"

"Just what, John Dory?" Delta's voice was a soft murmur, like the gentle babble of a brook, carrying years of unspoken words and emotions. "You left without a word, without a reason that I could understand. And now you return, speaking of mistakes as if they were pebbles on the road, easily kicked aside."

John looked at her, eyes a mirror of regret, reflecting the past they had shared, a past filled with music and laughter, now tinged with the silence of absence. "I know," he said softly, "but I'm here now, just give me a chance."

And seeing no attempt to speak from the girl, he went on, "Delta, I know I can't change the past, but I'm here to face it, to face you," John said, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "I left because I was afraid, afraid of how deeply I felt for you, afraid that I wasn't perfect."

"And here you go again with the perfect-"

"I'm changing, I promise I'm changing."

Delta's eyes searched his, looking for the sincerity that had been missing before. "John, love isn't about being perfect, it's about being real, being here," she replied, her voice softening.

"I know that now, Delta. And I'm here, real and raw and ready to be whatever we need to be," John reached out, hoping for a connection.

Delta hesitated, then allowed herself to lean into his touch. "We have a lot to work through, John. But maybe, just maybe, we can start with trust," she whispered.

John nodded, the relief evident in his eyes. "I want that, Delta. I promise, no more secrets between us."

"And I want to believe what you're saying," Delta said, a tentative smile forming, before it was replaced with a frown. "But I need more time."

John felt her grip slowly slipping from his, and he could swear the chills of the night started to turn his hands cold once again, now that their shelter wasn't here anymore.

The air was thick with the electric buzz of the party, a cacophony of laughter and chattering Trolls, but for John Dory, the world had narrowed down to the space between him and Delta Dawn. The music, a melody that once bound them in happier times, now played like a serendipitous plea for reconciliation. As Delta's fingers began to loosen their grip, a silent testament to the chasm his insecurities had wrought, John felt the weight of his past decisions anchoring him to a moment he wished to rewrite.

"Wait," he said, his voice barely a whisper over the music, but it reached her, a soft command. Delta paused, her fiery gaze locking with his, an entire conversation passing in the silence that enveloped them. Then a song swelled, a familiar tune they both knew, and in a move that surprised them both, John extended his hand once more. "Dance with me?"

It was a question, a hope, and why did she stop? Delta, whose heart had been a fortress, felt the walls tremble with the notes of her favorite song. It was as if the universe conspired to remind her of the rhythm they once shared, a dance of two souls intertwined by choice and chance. Her anger, justified as it was, began to ebb, replaced by a curiosity for the future they could still pen together.

She still loved him.

She hesitated, but a gentle, "Just like old times?" from her ex made her rethink the decision she was about to voice out loud.

She placed her hand in his, the party around them blurring into a whirl of colors and the other Trolls fading into the background. They moved to the music, a dance that was both a memory and a discovery, a blend of what was and what could be. John led with a gentle certainty he hadn't felt in years, and Delta followed, her movements a mix of hesitation and hope.

With each step, each turn, they wove a silent promise to listen, to understand, to forgive. The dance became a dialogue, their bodies speaking the words their voices had yet to find. And as the song reached its crescendo, John and Delta found themselves not at an end, but at a precipice of a new beginning, a chance to leap into the unknown, together. The music may fade, the party may end, but the dance, their dance, could well be eternal.

—------------

Branch was watching, nibbling on the special treat his girlfriend had made for him, and the two-person crowd he was looking at was none the wiser. John seemed happy, much to his surprise. He hadn't seen the usual mischievous smile for days, and something inside him was happy for his oldest brother. He didn't even realize Poppy was there until her lips made contact with his cheek.

"Hey," she said softly as she broke the sweet gesture, her plan having worked.

"Hey, you." Branch's attention was solely on her now. "Any news?"

"Do you like it?" she asked, pointing towards the cupcake in her boyfriend's hand. A simple nod, and she knew she had nailed it.

Then her face suddenly lit up. "Are you ready? Brozone's supposed to be on stage in, about, five minutes!" She looked around. "Where are your brothers?"

Branch's eyes scanned the place, not taking long before recognizing the familiar palette, minus one, scattered around the place. "Clay's with Viva, Floyd's with Satin, Bruce is probably in the kitchen, still checking on the food, I'm here…" He paused, looking ahead. "John's there."

The pink troll followed his gaze, and almost immediately, her face broke into a wide grin. "Wow, I didn't know John is so social."

"Neither did I." Though this was never how you would see two people who have just met dancing, though. "I don't think this is their first interaction."

"We didn't know other Troll tribes existed until only a few months ago."

"We have different pasts, Poppy." He smiled, faint as it was. "Maybe we didn't. Maybe he did. Who knows?"

She shrugged, climbing and sitting on the empty spot of the long table, making sure she was still near her partner. "Do you want me to postpone you and your brothers' performance?"

"That would be nice." Their fingers were intertwined, a gesture this time made by the male. "Thanks, Poppy." His gaze shifted to the couple dancing in the distance once more.

John Dory was happy.