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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

needy ~ corpse husband

word count: 1138

request?: no

description: after a session of drunk among us, your boyfriend becomes extremely needy and cuddly

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two)

The door to Corpse’s streaming room opened just after he announced to his stream that he was getting another beef from the fridge. You were watching his drunk Among Us stream on his bed, giggling as he and his friends became more and more drunk as the night went on.

“Get a glass of water!” you called after him as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Yes mom!” he responded.

You chuckled and shook your head, turning your attention back to the screen. Rae and Toast were drunkenly arguing in the lobby while Sykkuno and Ash ran around an AFK Corpse, and everyone else muted themselves to talk to their own chats. If they wouldn’t get kicked due to inactivity, you would’ve asked Corpse to try and convince everyone to stay in the lobby like that for a while.

“I am back,” Corpse said into his mic. “And I want (Y/N) to know I have tall glass of water.”

You smiled to yourself as his chat was flooded with sweet messages about how cute Corpse was for mentioning you.

Another game started and the lobby of drunk streamers all began talking at one time through the proximity chat, besides Corpse. He broke off immediately and went to do his tasks. A quick comment or weird sound would get louder every time someone walked past, but Corpse still remained silent.

You were starting to worry something was wrong when finally, he spoke, “I wish (Y/N) was playing with us.”

You felt your heart warmth as more messaged filled Corpse’s chat.

“She’s literally in my room, it’s not like she’s far away,” he continued. “I just wanna talk to her right now, but I also want to stream and focus on what I’m doing cause it’s getting hard to concentrate because I’m drunk.”

As if on cue, he ran past a dead body, completely unnoticed, and continued on with his tasks.

“Rae says I get needy when I’m drunk,” Corpse added. “I think that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, are you talking about how much of a simp for (Y/N) you are?” Rae asked, appearing suddenly from the darkness.

You had to agree with Rae on that; when Corpse got drunk he got very needy. Corpse was a touchy person in a relationship as it was, but when he got drunk he became extra touchy. All he’d want to do was to cuddle, or even just to hold your hand. He’d just want to be near you until he fell asleep, as exemplified by his desire for you to be playing with the group at that moment.

You continued to watch the stream for some time before your eyes started to grow heavy and, before you knew it, you were fast asleep with the laptop still on your lap.

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you were awoken a while later by the feeling of the laptop being moved from your lap and replayed with something much heavier laying against your body. You opened your eyes and looked down at Corpse, who now had his head against your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Good stream?” you asked as you began to run your fingers through his hair.

“Did I wake you?” You could tell he was trying to whisper, but it just came out in his normal tone.

“Not really,” you lied. “I wanted to be awake for when you finished the stream anyways.”

Your fingers hooked against a piece of fabric as you ran them through Corpse’s curly brown hair. “Babe, did you forget to take your eyepatch off?”

He shrugged and hummed sleepily, burying his face in your chest. You chuckled and used one hand to raise his head and slipped the eyepatch off with the other. You threw it out into the dark room somewhere, knowing Corpse would struggle to find that next time he had to edit or stream.

“I just wanted to come to bed,” he said. “I’m tired.”

“And needy,” you teased.

Corpse hummed again, giving you a slight squeeze as he did so. “I’m not needy, just drunk.”

“You do get needy when you’re drunk,” you pointed out. “Exhibit A is you never cuddle me like this when you’re sober.”

“Cause when I’m sober I’m usually the big spoon. I don’t wanna be the big right now.”

You smiled and continued to play with Corpse’s hair.

It was still early on in the night and after your brief catnap you weren’t feeling as tired, so you grabbed your phone and decided to scroll through TikTok for a while. You weren’t too concerned about Corpse trying to sleep or anything. He was a pretty heavy sleeper, especially after getting a few drinks into him.

It didn’t take long for you to start to get warm with Corpse’s still fully clothed body (of course he was wearing his usual jeans and a hoodie) laying on top of you, and you were starting to feel the urge to pee. You looked down at your sleeping boyfriend and at how peaceful he looked, knowing you were going to regret having to move.

He’s like a cat, you thought to yourself. Always wants to cuddle at the worst times.

Carefully, you started shifting his weight so it was more towards the bed than on top of you, and quickly slipped your body from underneath his. He whined at the loss of contact and you figured he was half awake at this point.

With your newfound freedom, you quickly raced to the bathroom and peed. When you came back, you decided to change out of your own loungewear into one of Corpse’s t-shirts as a better alternative to keep you from getting too warm when cuddling with Corpse.

When you returned to the bed, you saw that Corpse had moved onto his back and was now partially awake. He pouted at you as you climbed into bed next to him and held out his arms for you. You giggled and laid in his arms, immediately being ingulfed by his heat and the smell of beer.

“You should put on something more comfortable to sleep in,” you told him.

He shook his head. “No changing, only cuddling and sleep.”

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat beginning to slow down. That was normal for after a stream - his anxiety was usually at its peak while he would be streaming and it would take him some time to come back down from it.

Within seconds, Corpse was asleep again. His arms were holding you tightly, not letting go even in sleep. You smiled at his neediness even when he wasn’t awake, and allowed yourself to settle into his arms and finally drift off to sleep for the night.

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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wowbright · 3 years ago

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Fic: Easter Hunt

Tan Hands and Tan Lines Sophisticated Word Challenge 2021: judicious

Words: ~1700

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Kurt gets an Easter surprise.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for a belated celebration of The Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Event 2021. This vignette takes place the morning of Easter (so between My Way Home and Irreverence as of this writing).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: Morning wood and fluff. If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

--------

Kurt was the only one in the bedroom when he awoke Easter morning. And how grateful he was for that, because he had the world's most blaring case of morning wood.

Fortunately, that was all it was. There had been no wet dreams, which was a much better outcome than Kurt had expected after the events of the previous evening. Elder Anderson had bulldozed into his life like some kind of Prince Charming. Well, Kurt supposed, Prince Charmings didn't usually bulldoze, and Elder Anderson wasn't trying to bulldoze. But that's what it felt like sometimes to Kurt. He had successfully locked his heart throughout his entire mission, and now here was this perfect, compassionate priesthood holder who said things like you could never be plain, no matter what you wore and you look incredible and I think we must have known each other in the pre-existence; I feel too comfortable with you to understand it any other way.

And Kurt tried not to dwell on it. But there was no controlling his dreams. Not that they needed controlling, since they weren't graphic—not really. The images in them were ones that Elder Anderson would likely find completely inoffensive, or even commendable. Things like sitting close to each other on the couch, holding hands. Or Elder Anderson resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Or, when Kurt’s subconscious was feeling particularly daring, lying next to each other in a shared bed—and that was all they were doing, usually, unless you counted a fully-clothed Elder Anderson wrapping his arm around Kurt’s fully-clothed waist as an illicit activity.

But Kurt didn't need much for his loins to stir. The dreams imbued him with a pressing, desperate warmth. His heart would begin to race, and his breath pick up, and even in his sleep he could feel the cold sweat pricking his skin. He became feverish and ablaze with desire.

And, more often than not, he’d wake to a wet stain that spread from his garments to his sheets.

This morning, though, Kurt’s dreams had only given him a morning hard-on. And for that, he was grateful. Wet dreams weren't a sin, but all things being equal, Kurt much preferred to start Easter morning with clean sheets.

Kurt focused on how full his bladder felt until the log between his legs transformed into something more akin to a parboiled carrot. The sky was starting to lighten outside, and from the kitchen Kurt could smell bacon frying and hear Elder Anderson conversing with the cat about whether or not she was entitled to a taste. Kurt got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, and by the time he was done washing his face and peeing and washing again, his penis had completely given up on doing embarrassing things—at least for the time being.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Elder Anderson sing-songed as Kurt entered the kitchen. “And Happy Easter.”

“Happy Easter to you, too,” Kurt said, squatting to the floor to pet Spinnenkatze. “I see someone loves bacon more than she loves me. When did you two get up?”

“That's for us to know and you to not know,” Elder Anderson said impishly.

“That’s my line.”

“I know. That why I used it. turnabout is fair play.”

“Not on Easter.”

Elder Anderson appeared to give this argument serious thought. “I will tell you that she was happily asleep on your legs when I woke up, and she stayed there through all my rummaging around until she heard me get out her bowl.”

“Ah! So you were trying to lure her away, were you? Jealous that she always sleeps with me?”

Elder Anderson smiled and ducked his head as he flipped over the bacon. “Maybe a little. But I can't fault her. She and I are both big fans of yours.”

Kurt felt things stir south of the equator. Ugh. Maybe it would have been better to have a wet dream; then he’d be too spent to have urges. At least Kurt was good at ignoring his feelings until they went away. “Let me help you with breakfast. What do you need done?”

“The food’s almost ready. You could set the table?”

Kurt got up and squeezed past Elder Anderson toward the dish cabinet. Two plates, two mugs … a neon pink marshmallow bunny sitting in a juice glass?

“Peeps!” Kurt squealed.

“Oh?” Elder Anderson said casually, peering over Kurt’s shoulder. “I wonder where that came from.”

Kurt removed the Peep from the glass and bit off its head. “Must have been the Easter Bunny.”

“Must have been,” Elder Anderson said with a suppressed grin.

Kurt opened the silverware drawer: a yellow chick Peep. He reached into the refrigerator for the milk: it was guarded by two bunny Peeps.

“Is this a hunt?” Kurt said excitedly. “Am I supposed to go on a hunt?”

Elder Anderson shrugged noncommittally, but his eyes were alight with mischief. “How would I know? I'm not the Easter Bunny.”

“You aren’t the Easter Bunny, my foot,” Kurt scolded playfully. He had the urge to pinch Elder Anderson, but resisted. “Come, Spinnchen, we are on a quest!”

Now that Kurt knew to be on the lookout, the little marshmallow goodies seemed to be everywhere. There was one on the windowsill behind the kitchen sink, and one on top of the curtain rod near the loveseat, and two sitting on the key rack by the front door. A bright purple chick sat atop the framed picture of the Freiberg Temple, and three bunnies atop the portraits of the first presidency, and a whole coterie of assorted Peeps gathered at the edge of the bookshelf, gazing at the large collection of German Books of Mormon under the missionaries’ care.

By the time Elder Anderson set the bacon on the table, Kurt had located close to two dozen Peeps.

“Is that everything?” Kurt said, piling his bounty next to his plate.

Elder Anderson laughed. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” said Kurt in mock defensiveness. “I just want to make sure nothing gets left for Spinni to find.”

“Well, of course I have no idea, because the Easter Bunny’s ways are as mysterious to me as they are to you, but … I can help you do a thorough inspection after breakfast just to make sure.”

Something about that last sentence, or about the way Elder Anderson said it, launched Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro, so to speak. Kurt sat down before the celebrations could be noticed by his companion. “Peeps and bacon! A perfect breakfast,” Kurt said, and meant it. Gluttony, when properly surrendered to, had a beautiful way of drowning out all other vices.

Elder Anderson laughed. “I hope you aren't planning to eat all of those Peeps at once.”

“I am perfectly capable of being judicious in my Peeps consumption,” said Kurt, popping one into his mouth. And it was true. He was capable. He just had no intent of employing that ability just now.

“Good. Because there are more things for breakfast.”

“Oh?”

Elder Anderson opened the oven and pulled out a large plate whose contents were obscured under a dish towel.

“You baked me linens for Easter breakfast?” Kurt asked.

“No. That was the only place I could think of to hide this until presentation time.” Elder Anderson set the plate on the table and swept away the dishtowel like one of those magicians doing the tablecloth trick. At its center was a beautiful Easter bread that Kurt had been eyeing in the window of the corner bakery, and it was surrounded by brightly colored eggs.

“How did you buy that bread without me seeing?”

Elder Anderson sat down in his chair next to Kurt. “I told you, the Easter Bunny works in mysterious ways.”

“Oh, you drive me crazy,” said Kurt, but he couldn't muster up as much disapproval as he wanted to. Instead, he found himself squeezing Elder Anderson’s upper arm with far too much affection.

Kurt let go and leaned toward the plate to inspect the eggs. At first glance, he had only seen the bright splashes of color. But now he noticed little wax patterns cutting through those splashes. He picked one egg up to find two stick figures riding their bikes along a river. Another one revealed a choir of stick figures, with a very tall stick figure conducting in the front, another stick figure on the side playing the piano, and musical notes floating all around them in the ether. On the third were two stick figures kneeling together in prayer. On another, two stick figures on adjoining beds, looking up at a sky full of stars.

“Are they us?” Kurt said, though he already knew the answer. And when he met Elder Anderson’s eyes, it was confirmed. “They’re us! This is incredible. When did you do this?”

Elder Anderson gave a half shrug. “You sleep more heavily than you think sometimes.”

“I can’t believe you— I can’t believe you—" Kurt covered his mouth. It was too much and it was perfect and he felt like if he didn’t physically hold himself together, he would explode into a million sparkly pieces. Some of him was already leaking out of his eyes, and fragments of him escaped as startled giggles from his throat.

Elder Anderson touched Kurt’s elbow. "Why are you crying and laughing at the same time?"

"Because—” Because how could he not? First the bacon, and then the Peeps, and then the Easter bread, and then their lives portrayed as stick figure art on eggs that Elder Anderson must have gotten up at four in the morning to dye. Because Elder Anderson loved him, and it didn't matter if he wasn't in love with him. It didn't matter that he couldn't be Kurt’s Prince Charming for real. It was enough that Elder Anderson loved Kurt more fiercely than any boy ever had. It was enough that Elder Anderson was Elder Anderson. “Because you're the only person I know that would do something like this," Kurt laughed. "You're the only one.”

#thatl #spaceorphan's sophisticated challenge: judicious #mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine fluff #my thatl

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cottoncandyjester · 4 years ago

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If requests are still open, I was wondering if you could write how your oc's would react to a darling who becomes very clingy and cuddly when they are on their period? If not that's totally fine! I love your oc stories :)

Thank you! Also this is so cute..and relatable

This story contains: talk about periods, light talk about a wetsports kink, salem being gross as always, talk about period sex, blood kink?

Theodore

He actually isn't too used to affection

Of course he loves when you're hugging him from behind while he's cooking or even giving him a kiss while he's cleaning but he doesn't expect it everyday

Theo would definitely be the type to know when you're on your cycle before you do so he is prepared

I'm talking snacks, pads/tampons depending on your choice, heating pad he's got it all

He totally checks your cycle mostly cause he wants to know when is the perfect time to have a baby with you

He loves your affection but he is a man who feels like he can't just sit around and cuddle though you can convince him easily

He wants to spoil you always so he would definitely take care of you so he will take care of you then do what he needs to while you sleep

"sweetheart, I should get started on dinner. It's getting late and there's a lot to get done"

"Mmm, let's order food you cook too much just relax"

Theo eyed you as you snuggled close to his chest clearly trapping him in bed preventing him from going anywhere. He absolutely loved you so he couldn't say no

"alright sweetheart, but you do have to let me go so I can order food.."

"five more minutes.."

Hikaru

He is like a hissy cat that you want to cuddle but won't let you

Truth is...hikaru doesn't know how to show affection and of course he is dense about the female body

You have to spell it out for him

He of course bitches about cuddles but he is so damn touch starved that he accepts it

As far as taking care of you? He does it but he's annoying about it the whole time.

You are so annoying in his eyes but he refused to let you cuddle anyone else not even a pillow

You can use your cycle to bully him a bit cause he loves you too much to degrade you while you're in pain

"kittyyyyy~"

Hikaru let out a low growl as he threw his hair in a ponytail now walking into the bedroom clearly annoyed by the nickname but the sight of you curled up in pain made his eyes soften.

"what do you want?"

"come here, I need you kitty.."

Hikaru sighs as he walked towards the bed and crawled in laying to face you only to feel you reach and take his hair out of a ponytail with a devilish smirk.

"oi, [y/n] what the hell are you up to"

"you're so pretty kitty.."

Hikaru found himself getting flustered and he simply scoffs before softly flicking your forehead before trying to hide his blush by nuzzling his face in your neck.

"shut it piggy, you're so damn weird sometimes"

You knew he was trying to say that he loved you in his own special way

"you wanna go and get me snacks?"

Hikaru snapped his eyes to you clearly giving you a death glare, he definitely was going to strangle you

"o-or I could ask someone else to d-"

"FUCK NO I'LL DO IT!"

You snickered at hikaru got out of bed now cursing under his breath while pulling his hair back in a ponytail

"stay here damn it, I'll be back you don't need anyone else to take care of you"

Axis

Cute if you think he isn't cuddling you all day anyways

Axis depends on you all the time so if you tell him that you need cuddles he is ready

He tries his best to help you

You are stuck in bed cuddling with him always

He is always kissing and loving up on you

"axis?"

"hmmmm?"

"I have to pee..."

Axis simply moved ontop of you now fully trapping you and he laid his head on your chest to listen to your heart beat, he clearly was not moving anytime soon

"I'm comfy, super comfy"

"axis, babe...I really have to pee"

Axis turned his head towards you so his milky eyes locked with yours before he simply brushed some hair out your face before giving you a sweet grin

"better hold it, cause I'm not moving...or you could just go..right here on the couch"

With that the male pressed his knee right against where your bladder would be before snuggling up to you while digging his knee deeper

What an evil boy.

Prince

He loves your affection and all

Don't expect him to be helpful during those times though

He'll get you pads but..

"babe what's your pussy size? We talking phat or what?"

He will be totally pouty if you deny him sex during your period

Like what do you mean y'all can't fuck?!

All in all he is for your sweet cuddly behavior though careful cause cuddle him too much and he's humping you

"prince?"

"yeah?"

"you're poking me"

Prince grinned as he locked his arms around your waist tighter now grinding against you slyly, he knew exactly what he was doing he just wanted to drive you insane.

"yeah? Can't help it you know what happens when we cuddle, I just get so fucking horny"

You turn to face him hoping that will stop his grinding but now he just moved ontop of you pinning your hands above your head with a smug grin

"don't play with me [y/n] or I swear to God this whole week I'll fuck you so hard your legs will be shaking"

You had two choices now, you could deflect his advances or you could make him snap...you decided with the last choice.

"prove it."

Yuki

You're taking to the cuddle king right there

He sleeps 90% of the day so cuddling with him isn't hard

Play with his hair who you cuddle though that's a must

As far as helping you and taking care of you...he's kinda useless

He'll get snacks but that's about it

He tries his best but yuki just isn't experienced enough with that

"[y/n]...I'm back."

You hop off the couch to greet your boyfriend who has went out to get you snacks, he's been gone almost all day so the first thing you did was hug him tightly

"what took you so long?!"

"Mmm, got sleepy..took a nap.."

You glared at yuki who merely glanced away avoiding your eye contact knowing full well he was going to get scolded.

"you shouldn't sleep in public so causally it's dangerous!"

"too loud.."

With a pouty huff you went and laid back on the couch soon feeling him join you, he pressed his head on your chest while locking his arms around you tightly with a low and soft sigh

"sleepy.."

You ran your fingers through his hair before planting a soft kiss onto his face feeling him nuzzle against your chest...he was so soft and cute!

Salem

Okay let's just put it out there.... y'all are going to fuck during that entire week

Salem is basically an animal

I like to the think that he would smell the blood and just go crazy and feral and horny

Definitely wants to eat you out all day everyday

He wouldn't leave you alone at all

Salem pressed his nose against your clothed privates, damn you for wearing pants. Salem gave you a devilish grin before yanking your pants down before just drooling over the scent of you

"salem! I just wanted to cuddle!"

"b-but- [y/nnnnnnn]"

Salem licked your underwear drool dripping all over you as he trailed his hands under your shirt with a devious little giggle. He loved touching you, it was his favorite thing to do and honestly he just didn't know how to stop

"tasty [y/n]~"

It was clear salem was getting what he wanted no matter how much you scolded him.

Rocket

He definitely loves your cuddles but he doesn't like just laying around for long periods of time

He is super active so he would want to get up and do something

You'll totally have to force him to lay with you after a while cause he would get so antsy

He's also useless when it comes to caring for you during your period

He will get you what you need but as far as laying around cuddling? Eh.

He definitely wants to but he is kinda paranoid about becoming lazy

"stay still!"

Rocket twitched lightly as you laid ontop of him with your face nuzzled into his chest, he was supposed to have a morning workout but you were in pain and wanted cuddles so he rushed to your aid and now he was shaking and twitching due to his absolute need to at least run around or something

"h-hey babe? How about a bath? I'll run you a nice relaxing bath yeah?"

You looked up at him with a sweet smile that made him melt, god did he love you

"sure as long as you join me.."

With that you got off him and you've never seen him rush off faster in your life. Rocket of course ran a bath but whole the water was filling up he was doing push ups trying to exert all this intense pent up energy.

This week was going to kill him if he had to lay in bed all day, he would absolutely go insane but the things he did for love.

Scarlett

Scarlett is a soft goth girlfriend..cuddling is always wanted.

She of course will craft you up a remedy to ease your pain or do anything to settle your discomfort

She will be the type to hum soothingly while she is cuddling with you

She usually likes being the big spoon but she'll be the little spoon if you want

She is usually somewhat distant with work but during these times she would definitely be at your beck and call

"is the medicine wearing off my love? I can make some more if you wish?"

You held onto her tighter now not wanting her to leave your side and she felt this now giving a soft giggle before running her fingers through your hair.

"alright, I suppose I can stay a tad bit longer. You're so cute"

With that she planted a sweet kiss onto your cheek while her eyes gazed away her mind clearly thinking of something but she tightened her grip on you letting you know that she was here for you and for whatever you needed

#yandere imagines #yandere #yandere ocs #tw salem #tw pee mention #tw periods

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bittcrblue · 3 years ago

Text

killing virgins, draft 1

I’ve been in a slump for a week or so where I don’t like any of my writing, lol, and I decided to revisit my first two drafts of what would become killing virgins and realised that I like them a lot more than what I put out, lol.

I decided to post them here in case anyone is interested, along with why I ended up abandoning those ideas in favour of what I did write, and maybe that will help me settle more comfortably into the plot that I wrote :)

Incoming are about 5k words of M rated content, with warnings for dub-con, dissociating, and some kind of fetishizing of disability from a character.

Caleb wakes in his cramped little cell with a pounding headache, the taste of vomit on his tongue, and the smell of semen on his fingers.

He realises that last as he goes to scrub at his face, trying to chase the last wisps of his restless sleep away, and it turns his stomach. That had truly happened, then. He calls back on memories of last night, and try as he might, what comes up first is Ikithon’s cloying manipulations, his fatherly concern. Asa and Wulf’s calculating eyes and compliments. Bren’s own fear. It’s only later that the images form, of him in Essek’s bed, in Essek’s lap, his tongue down Essek’s throat. Those arrested hip movements hindered by two legs nailed to the bed by medical braces. The tears in his eyes and on his face as Caleb systematically tore down every defense, and then everything left behind them, picking his wants apart with a magpie’s voraciousness, striking fast and hard while Essek stumbled to catch up, tongue heavy from wine and Caleb’s own spend.

I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, he hears his old master say.

Other people complicating desires and wishes, indeed.

Caleb rolls out of bed and goes to bathe. He can smell Essek’s expensive detergents on his skin, where he doesn’t reek of sweat from sleeping in his fine clothes.

In the time it takes him to bathe and put an expression on his face that approximates rested, if not pleasant, the Nein have found the breakfast table, and are exclaiming over the cats as they bring out steaming mugs of tea and coffee, platters heaped with bacon and potatoes and bear claws.

“Hallo,” Caleb says. He takes a cup of coffee and drinks it one long go, gulp after gulp. His mind flashes to Essek swallowing around him, and he chases the thought away irritatedly.

He had gone to the Shadowhand for a distraction - to indulge in the rot that lingered under his skin, the venom that boiled both of their veins, to lose any thoughts of trying to claim humanity and become a base animal for some time. He doesn’t need the memories to keep clawing into the forefront of his thoughts.

Caleb despises feeling guilty. God knows he has spent most of his life carrying that weight.

Caduceus is looking at him carefully, like he is a puzzle, and Caleb decides to nip that in the bud.

“How did you all sleep, here?” he asks, and the others all explode into compliments. It’s good - strokes his ego. He kept them safe. They were protected, here, in this disgusting meat closet, while Caleb was miles away getting his rocks off with a traitor.

“So, what do we want to do now?” Jester asks. “We’ve got a little bit under a week before we have to go pick up our clothes, and then we’re going to go work with Vess.”

“Some of us have to pick up our clothes,” Fjord amends, half-muttering into his coffee. “Some of us didn’t spend seven hours shopping.”

“Didn’t we want to go to Zadash?” Yasha asks. “To talk to your dad,” she nods to Jester, “And get some leads on Cree?” There is a fire burning in her, simmering under the surface, ever since they realised that all their threads seem to lead back to Mollymauk.

Caleb needs to get his head back on track. Stay on task.

“Yeah, we could do that,” he says flatly, unable to muster any kind of emotion.

Veth gives him a concerned look. She’s not the only one. Damn his vulnerability, yesterday. They know him too well, these friends of his; he wants to peel his skin off and flee, start anew, wants to fall back into old patterns of Bren. He looks at Veth’s face instead, her chubby brown cheeks, her furrowed brow untidy and soft. She is lovely. He is happy for her. At that moment, he misses Nott.

“Do we maybe want to check on Essek?” Veth asks tentatively, eyes on Caleb, like she is doing him a favour. “See what ol’ Hot Boi is up to? If there’s any new treasons?”

“Is Essek very high on our agenda right now?” Fjord asks. “Pardon me for saying, but it feels like we’ve… moved on from that phase, haven’t we?”

“Fjord!” Jester scolds. “He’s our friend! We promised we would help him be a better person!”

“Yeah, but we’re about to disappear into the arctic fucking circle for God knows how long, chasing after mysteries with Vess deRogna, so like.” Beau leans back on two legs of her chair, arms spread wide. Duh, her posture reads. “Fat load we can do.”

Caduceus’ shrewd gaze is still zeroed in on Caleb. He doesn’t meet it, because knowing Caduceus, it will be kind.

Jester is seeking his eyeline, too. Caleb ignores it, lips pressed together. He will not reveal last night’s scry if she doesn’t.

“I can do a quick scry,” she says finally. “I bet we will see that he is so changed, you guys. I bet he will be, like, volunteering at a children’s hospital.” She runs to her room to fetch the scrying orb.

Great. So the rest of them will see him too. Caleb thinks of seeing Essek’s plush lips after he saw them spread wide and panting last night. Thinks of the way he had whined when Caleb pinched his earlobe. Who would have thought that the Shadowhand to the Bright Queen was so easy? He’d mentioned several times that he had no interest in nudity, in carnal pleasures, had lamented their tryst as a bad idea before they even got their dicks out. Caleb wonders if he was a virgin.

Jester is setting up her scry, the crystal ball settled between a platter of cupcakes and a sodden grease cloth that once held bacon that is probably in Beau’s pockets. Veth scoots her chair closer and Caleb needs to distract her, right now.

“How was your time with Luc and Yeza?” he asks, and she can see through him - of course she can, she knew him at his worst, she has always known he was terrible - but she responds anyways. Caleb tunes her out. In truth, he doesn’t want to hear about her happiness when he is churning with misery and resentment. Perhaps that makes him cruel. Nothing new to him, although Veth has rarely been the recipient.

The scry forms strangely, this time around. As if it were nearly resisted, Caleb thinks, seeing Jester bite her lip in frustration before the image clears. He would bet money on it being in the Lucid Bastion, firstly because of the architecture, not least because the oracle sharpens on Essek standing before the Bright Queen.

“I thank you for the report, Shadowhand,” says Leylas Kryn, her horned headdress luminous in the bright light of the room - her study, perhaps. “Have you anything else to bring to my attention?”

Essek looks… rough. Nothing obvious, of course - his mantle is in place, impeccable, and he floats a few inches above the floor as per usual. His hair is curled and styled. But he has dressed down; no jewelry hangs between his earlobes and his nose ring, there are no elaborate cuffs protecting the edge of his ear that Caleb now knows is so sensitive. He wears a single silver loop on each side, a dodecahedron brooch on his mantle. Under his eyes, dark circles speak of exhaustion.

“There has been word from the Mighty Nein, Your Radiance,” he says.

(“What the fuck is he talking about?” Beau asks. “Jess, did you message him?”

“I didn’t!”)

“And what say our intrepid Heroes?”

Essek tilts his head to the side, as if thinking over his words. There is a shadow under his chin, the slightest intimation that something might linger under his collar. Leylas Kryn notices it; most of the Nein do, as well. Jester is staring straight at Caleb.

“They have been contacted by Vess deRogna, of the Cerberus Assembly,” he says.

(“Yo, how does he know this shit! Is he spying on us?”)

“Do they seek to undermine us?” Leylas asks, immediately harsh, eyes cutting.

“I do not believe so, My Queen.” Essek brings a hand to his chest, bows his hand in reverence. “In fact, I doubt that they will accept her contract - they have previously voiced distaste towards the Assembly, as you recall.”

The Bright Queen settles, slightly, but she is still on edge. “And what would this Archmage have of our Nein?” she asks.

Caleb seethes at her casual assumption, that the Nein are hers. Government is the same - manipulative people, regardless of where the border falls.

“The reports from Vurmas have mentioned strange activity near Eiselcross.”

There is a collective intake of breath - the Queen, the Nein.

“The Assembly would plunder the depths of Aeor for magical weapons, now that our Beacon has been returned,” Leylas murmurs, hands folded in prayer and pressed to her mouth. There is a fanaticism in her eyes that Caleb recognises. “The ink on the treaty is not even dry, and still they seek to undermine our rule. We are ever dirty cricks to them, unworthy of standing under a shared sun.”

“We must lay the foundations of a future where peace is ensured,” Essek says after a pause. “If that means protecting our interests in the North, Your Radiance, I will assemble a team and send them to Eiselcross at your command.”

Leylas Kryn lowers her hands, and regards Essek for a long moment.

“Kneel,” she says, and Essek drops down into an elegant bow, long and sweeping, one hand pressed to his forehead as if to block out the sun.

“Kneel,” she repeats, more insistent. “Properly. Do not make me command you thrice.”

There is an audible sound of impact, as Essek drops his floating cantrip, and his knees hit the marble floors. His face twitches once, but it settles back into courtly placidity before it can show pain. Caleb thinks of his legs in their braces, last night. He knows Jester is thinking the same, her hands over her mouth, tail thrashing in distress.

“Umavi,” Essek says, head bowed, low in front of her.

“You may look upon me,” she says imperiously, and he lifts his head, staring up. Her hand raises, imperceptibly, and Essek takes it, pressing a kiss to the fingers there.

“Holy Day approaches,” the Queen says quietly, softly, so very softly. “We will stand under the light of the sun and be purified of our faults by the cleansing beams of the Luxon. True devotion, true love, is known only through pain. Submission is an agony that delights.”

(“She’s crazy, right? So we’re clear?”)

“Of all my courtiers,” Leylas Kryn continues. “Your reverence is the one I trust the most. Are you in pain, Shadowhand?”

“Always,” Essek says with a laugh. “Particularly so now. The floors are chilly, Your Radiance.”

“I can trust that your devotion is honest, and that you offer it with understanding of all that entails.” She tilts his chin up, the better to meet his eyes with her own distant, ancient turquoise gaze. “Remember your place, Essek Thelyss. You are my Shadowhand - a card in my deck. Not your mother’s, and not your den’s. Nor are you one in the Mighty Nein’s.”

Essek smiles once more, and this one speaks volumes - it is less convincing than he likely hopes. “Trust me, Majesty. They do not picture me as such at all. My relationship with the Mighty Nein is… not a concern for the Dynasty. I am the Shadow cast by your Hand. Your wish is my only obligation.”

Leylas Kryn searches him for a long, long moment. “Very well. Rise, Shadowhand. I want you to go to the Skysibil and learn all you can about Aeor, and what the Empire might seek there. Dismissed.”

She has already turned back to her desk and taken a seat when Essek gets to his feet, a series of cracks echoing throughout the chamber as he does so, and with an ugly grimace on his face he starts to float and leaves, offering one last bow as he goes.

They follow him through the scry to a different part of the Lucid Bastion, where people bow to him as he passes, and he eventually enters a sumptuously decorated office, gestures to lock the door behind him.

Essek makes a somatic gesture with his hand, and says “Skysibil, if you are available soon to discuss our histories of Aeor and our interests there, I await your earliest convenience. Light shine on you.”

And then he drops into an extremely comfortable looking chair with a long groan, unclasping his mantle carelessly. Under his cloak of office, he is dressed finely, but comfortably, as is his norm. There are metal braces clasped around his legs, this time - perhaps the soft ones are for bed? - made of wrought silver. Essek stretches his legs out one at a time, brings a hand to his right knee, lets out a pained sound.

“Not the fucking day for this,” he laughs, and it sounds like he is close to tears. “Not enough to have spies on my tail, to have work heaped on my plate - no, we have to prove devotion on a bad leg day, when I haven’t tranced, after the worst sex of my life. Fantastic. Doing great, Thelyss.”

A wave of his hand, and a desk drawer opens; a bottle of something fine and potent flies out and lands in an expectant hand. He pulls directly from the bottle. With his free hand, he tentatively traces over his own neck, pressing into the skin through his soft tunic. Caleb pictures last night, and can transpose the shape of his own teeth where Essek pushes, a forlorn and bitter expression on his face.

“Fool,” Essek says to his empty office, under his breath, tone defeated. “You never learn.”

If Essek says more, the Mighty Nein don’t see it - their ten minutes are up, and they all emerge from the vision, still at the breakfast table.

The air is heavy with the smell of food. Caleb is still a little nauseous, both from being faced with bubblegum frosting first thing in the morning, and from what they were shown by the scry. He dislikes the idea of Essek on his knees, kneeling in piety, hips and knees cracking with every shift he makes. What has Leylas Kryn done to gain such submission?

He pictures himself in her place, his hand on the side of Essek’s face, guiding that dark mouth onto his cock. Essek letting out moans and gasps, from his throat being fucked or because his folded legs are twinging beneath him, with no way for Caleb to tell.

“Okay, what the fuck was that?” Veth asks.

“Yeah, who told him we were going to Eiselcross?” Beau accuses.

“I didn’t send him a message you guys, I swear!” Jester cries. “Maybe he was scrying on us, but…” she tries to meet Caleb’s eyes. He ignores her.

They are all looking at him now.

“Was it just me,” Beau asks, eyes boring into Caleb. “Or did Essek have a little hickey, right here?” She presses her fingers to the hinge of her jaw.

“Why are you looking at Caleb,” Veth says shrilly. “Essek clearly said that he’d had some bad sex, and Caleb wouldn’t do that - he’d have amazing sex. Essek is clearly spying on us, because he’s untrustworthy.”

“Okay, what’s important for us to take away from that interlude,” Fjord says, trying to cut through the arguing-

“His legs are hurt,” Yasha says quietly. “Did we know that about him?”

“No, we didn’t,” Beau answers.

“What's important,” Fjord presses. “Is that he’s covering for our reputation in Rosohna. Did you see that he didn’t tell the Queen that we’re working with the Assembly? He’s keeping us in good standing there.”

“No ulterior motive for that, I’m sure,” Beau says.

Caleb stands. His chair scrapes against the floor. It cuts through the noise easier than Fjord’s captain voice did.

“I cannot hear myself think,” he says flatly. “I need a moment.” And he strides from the room.

“Caleb, get your ass back in here,” Beau yells, and starts to move after him, but Caleb can hear Caduceus intercepting her, telling her “Let him go do this, he’s reflecting on his behaviour and that’s a good thing-”

Caleb doesn’t bother heading to his room when the library will do fine. He breathes in, long and harsh, exhales only after he’s held it so long that his head spins. Frumpkin is batting at his arms, and he lets him, too lost in his own head.

There is a part of him that burns with upset at being called Essek’s worst lay. Essek had hardly been a good one himself - sloppy and unpracticed, he’d spent at the weakest dirty talk Caleb ever attempted. It wasn’t even dirty talk, really - he’d spat Essek’s fantasies back in his face, and even just the thought had been enough to do the job.

He wishes Essek were less vulnerable. The proud Shadowhand he first met would know how to play these games with him, a mutual manipulation that would leave them both content. This? Is emotional, and messy, and Caleb can feel something from far away, as if it were locked behind a pane of glass, that wants to clasp Essek’s hands tenderly. Press a kiss to those knuckles. Cross eyes over an experiment in his towers, and feel something burgeon between them. What had Essek wanted? To kiss him properly, and then walk him back to the Xhorhaus, like teen sweethearts with a curfew.

Instead, Caleb had teleported straight into his bed for a mediocre handy, called him an idiot, and left him with come still cooling on his stomach.

Well, you can’t always get what you want.

He considers seeking out Astrid and Eadwulf - they, at least, know how to play this game, might remember their old moveset even if they’ve long since moved onto another dance. Caleb could let Wulf fill him from behind, let Asa sit on his face, let his brain bleed out his ears for however long they took.

Because that worked so well last time.

Approach things logically, Widogast. Is Essek a card that is worth being kept in their sleeve? He is a powerful mage, but Caleb is as powerful now, or nearly as much. His contacts in the Dynasty are of no use to them where they are going. But perhaps, if they face a formidable enemy…

Essek, with his metal-encased legs, camping in the biting north? Tears burning in the corner of his eyes, facing down some frosty demon? Caleb almost laughs.

From another angle, Caleb is invested in Essek’s redemption - Caleb knows that he himself is damned, knows that all he can do is toil at his friends’ side and hope that it adds up at the end of his life. He wants to see Essek do the same. He wants to know if it carries the same catharsis as seeing Essek cry against his chest.

Caleb is turning in circles. He ought to go out to the others, and confess this sin. He could dance around it, he knows, say as little as he needs to and let the others fill in the rest. Just one other of the many skills his Master demonstrated last night.

Instead, Caleb snaps Frumpkin out of his arms, and teleports.

This time, he is courteous enough to teleport into the antechamber before Essek’s office itself. He knocks on the door, thinking idly to himself that it is a massive security risk, to allow teleportation into the heart of the Bastion.

There is movement, and a long moment, before Essek opens the door, eyebrows raised, a haughty expression on his face as he prepares to scold whatever secretary or aide would dare knock without announcing himself.

The look freezes on his face, instead. He flushes violet and avoids Caleb’s eyes.

“Caleb,” he says. His voice is…

“Yeah. Can I come in?”

Essek looks between Caleb - eyes landing on his chin, and not moving higher - and the doorframe. As if he might slam the door. Caleb puts his hand in the frame, just in case, and Essek takes an instinctive step back.

“I’m working,” he says, after a too-long pause. Chin raised, as if he might fall back on pride and noble upbringing, when Caleb has seen him whining, hips struggling to kick. “I certainly hope you are not here expecting a repeat performance of last - that is to say.” He clears his throat. “I’m busy, Caleb.”

“I don’t want to fuck,” Caleb says flatly.

Essek flinches, and looks around them wildly, before grabbing Caleb by the lapel and dragging him into the office. “Have you no shame?” Essek asks, voice sour. “I’d ask if you had any decency, but. Well.”

Caleb leans against the shut door, and watches him. He can see Essek struggling to maintain composure, to not be discomfited.

“The childhood accident,” he asks. “What was it?”

Essek looks like he might explode, anger painting his expression. “I believe you have lost the right to ask me personal questions,” he says, and wraps his mantle around him closer. The movement is achingly insecure. “Given that you have shown a proclivity for throwing my confessions in my face. I won’t be mocked in my own office, Caleb Widogast.”

“Ah, but your bed is fine, yeah?”

Caleb doesn’t know why he’s even here. He doesn’t know what he wants - wants Essek to hurt him, maybe, or to cry again. His earlier fantasy of fucking Essek’s mouth flits through his mind again, but more than that, he feels that presence somewhere in his breast pounding its fists against the glass.

Essek is just staring at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Sorry,” Caleb says after a beat. “I came to - apologise.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Essek says. He does look haggard, doesn’t he?

Caleb takes a step forward, and then another - Essek clings to the edge of his desk.

“I told you that I liked your daydreams,” he murmurs. “Was this one of them?”

Essek’s eyes are screwed shut. “I won’t be - won’t be tempted, I am not a mere plaything of yours simply because you learned a new spell. This is - I did not take you for cruel, when we met. More the fool I.”

Caleb reaches out and puts a hand on Essek’s breastbone. Flattens it out and smooths the heavy fabric of his mantle. He can feel a heartbeat, pounding, beneath it.

“What did you want?” he asks, lips barely moving. “Last night was for me. Let me do something for you.”

Essek buckles against the desk. Caleb drops a hand to his waist to steady him.

“Steady,” he says.

Essek slams a hand against Caleb’s chest, and it does embarrassingly little. “I am not a filly for you to calm,” he hisses. “I am the Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, and I am your Steward - if appealing to you as a friend means nothing anymore, perhaps you will respond to authority.”

Caleb smiles. It feels honest. “Yeah, not really,” he says, a regretful twist to his mouth.

“You’re despicable,” Essek says. Caleb squeezes his waist. “I so wished that last night had been a dream,” he laughs, the sound upsetting and raw. “And now this.”

“How drunk were you?” Caleb asks.

Essek doesn’t meet his eye. “Very.”

“Shall we forget it happened?” He strokes the flesh where his hand sits above Essek’s hips, leans in closer. “Would that bring you peace, friend?”

“You have a lot of nerve,” Essek scoffs. “To think I would forget…” he looks aside.

The Shadowhand takes a deep breath then, and he peels a hand away from the edge of the desk to place his still-white knuckles against the edge of Caleb’s jaw, gently touching the beard there.

“It is evident,” he says, courtier voice in place. “That I like you more than you like me. Last night was - I won’t do this with you, Caleb, won’t let you come at your whim and let you take what you want. I’m not the type. I don’t do trysts.”

Caleb shudders. You did last night, he does not say. Bold of Essek to cling to modesty, when Caleb didn’t even ask for head - Essek had flipped him over, gagged for it by his own volition.

“I do like you,” he says instead. “But I don’t trust you.” He leans into Essek’s hand, watches a series of emotions flicker across his expression. “I see myself in you, and it enrages me. And then, other times, I don’t see myself in you at all, and it makes me doubt everything I know.”

“You were the one who told me that… that we could leave things better than they were before,” Essek says after a long moment.

“Yeah.” He wishes that Essek would put his thumb on Caleb’s lip, so that he could suck it into his mouth. He is better at seduction than he is talking things out.

“You did not leave me better than you found me, last night, Caleb Widogast.”

Caleb smiles, exercises his jaw. “I was not myself.”

“You are still not yourself.”

Calculating eyes meet concerned violet-blue. “Am I not?” He turns his head, now, to press a kiss to that dusky purple palm. Those curled fingers that can destroy a scourger with a single gesture, that can cling without strength to Caleb’s hair and shoulders.

“You are so alive, normally,” Essek says, quiet and earnest. “There is a spark of brilliance in you, that struck me from the first I laid eyes on you. You hurt to look at, sometimes, for fear of burning myself.”

It is romantic drivel. Caleb’s heart speeds up all the same.

He sees us, screams the him behind the glass. Bren hushes it. He saw them last night, saw the truth of them, the truth of who and what Caleb is.

“Your eyes are cold, now. You mock me still, playing at tenderness, trying to fall in line with what you think I want. I’ve seen more lively eyes on a corpse.”

Caleb reaches up to grasp Essek’s hand and moves it in front of his mouth. Presses a reverent kiss to his fingertips, a mirror of the move Essek made to his queen not a half hour ago.

“I’m sorry for last night,” he says, infusing some emotion into the words. He isn’t sure which one. “I should have stopped as soon as you implied you were unwilling. I wasn’t thinking - seeing my old master put me… out of sorts.”

“I would have listened, had you wanted to talk about it.” Essek is flushing quite dark.

“I know that now.” Caleb squeezes the hand in his. “I fell into old patterns of self-destructive behaviour. My comrades and I… whenever he was too much, we would find respite in one another.”

“Did you mercilessly taunt them, too?” Essek doesn’t relent.

By all the fucking gods, he’s really taking that necking comment badly, huh?

“Sometimes. It can be a release, to let others speak to you without filter, depending on your mindset. But you are not me, and that does not excuse it.”

Essek searches his eyes before his glance skitters away again. Painfully shy, the Shadowhand. Caleb wonders just how young he is, to his people.

“Was last night your first time?” he asks gently, stroking Essek’s waist again. For all that Essek resented it earlier, the intent to soothe appears to be working. They are all just animals pretending at higher intelligence, calmed by simple touch.

“Give me some credit,” Essek says, voice flat. “I was an adolescent at one point.”

The answer says more than Essek likely realises. Teen flings only, then, nothing of substance. And now, this flame he carries for Caleb, that he showcases proudly and clutches close to his chest in turn.

“You were very eager,” Caleb continues, still speaking quietly. “Do you still want me?”

Essek makes a pained noise.

“I’m at work,” he says, and then moans when Caleb leans in to exhale, wet and heavy over his ear. This is how it’s done, he doesn’t say. It’s easier to be erotic when sober.

“Take a break,” Caleb coaxes. “We will be gone some time, and I owe you a good time. I care for you, Essek. I want you to remember me fondly.”

A sharp inhale. Bingo; tears welling in those eyes. Caleb is a terrible, terrible man.

“I’m not sleeping with you in the Bastion,” Essek says, and it is utterly unconvincing.

“How presumptuous of you,” Caleb teases, and gives a nip to his earlobe. “Perhaps I simply wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh, I’m the presumptuous one?” Essek laughs. “You who so boldly appeared in my bedroom, demanding company…” He trails off, because Caleb is staring at him, trying his best to convey some kind of emotion, some fondness that he felt once before he saw Essek in the hold of a ship and realised that they were the same despicable type of selfish. It might not work, but want will do the trick just as well. Essek moistens his lips, a brief flicker of tongue.

“Caleb,” Essek whispers, and leans in - finally, finally - for a kiss.

It is close-mouthed, dry. Gentle. Barely a caress. He can feel Essek shuddering under his hands, and he almost wishes he could muster some semblance of reverence back.

Caleb draws back first, and then presses in again, this kiss briefer. Pecks pressed to the corner of his mouth, left and right, to his upper lip, then his bottom, each one big enough that he can plant a kiss there without effort.

“Good?” he asks, as if they had done anything.

“Mhm,” Essek mumbles, and reaches for him again. His hands curl in the front of Caleb’s jacket. It feels terribly romantic. Caleb sweeps his tongue out, licks his way into Essek’s mouth, drinks the sweet noises he makes. Feels Essek’s legs tremble again, and he reacts on instinct, sweeping him up to settle him on top of the desk, and then the moment ends - Essek clutches at his left leg, letting out a pained hiss.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says dumbly, hands still on Essek’s hips.

“It’s fine,” he groans, and physically picks up his leg to better position it on the table, ensuring the bend of his knee with a grunt. Are the tears in his eyes for pain now? Frustration? Still that misty-eyed tenderness that Caleb somehow evokes, even with his half-assed pretensions?

“You are in pain,” Caleb says, and lets his hand rest on Essek’s upper thigh, where a gap in the brace lets him touch the fine silk of his trousers. He traces a little circle into the flesh there. “Should you not go home to rest?”

“My work never ends,” Essek offers, a grim smile on his face.

“Let me take you home,” Caleb insists, and knows immediately that he pushed too indelicately. Essek flushes, and looks aside, mouth moving as he struggles to form words.

“What is this?” he finally asks.

“This is me, and you.” Caleb kisses Essek on the cheek. “I want to leave you better than I found you, but I seem to have a bad track record.”

#caro writes #caro lore #my fic #burned house horizon #published fic

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4lix · 4 years ago

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lee know. sleepy time <3

gn reader, no warnings, free form minho doesn’t realize how much of an effect he has on you. he never thinks much about things, never considers how certain things may come off to others. like when he pulls you into his chest, nuzzling his face in the crown of your head because your shampoo smells nice. or when he mindlessly plays with your fingers in boredom, twirling them around his own with no regard for your flushed face.

you weren’t dating but half of his wardrobe was on your bedroom floor, and not because you were getting down and dirty, he just always threw his clothes like a fast ball into some random corner of your room before flopping down on your bed like he owned the place.

minho really thought he owned the place. he took up most of the bed when you slept, refused to take the couch although it was pretty comfy and he was the one who invited himself over as per usual. he hogged all the blanket at night, talks in his sleep, and once he hits his r.e.m phase he’s dragging you across the bed and crushing you against his chest in a suffocating hug.

you’re never able to sleep when the idiot is over, how could you? his breath warm against your neck, arms tight around your waist, legs tangled up in yours. the idiot has no idea what effect he has on you, if he hears your heart pounding in your chest he chooses to ignore it. when you finally do manage to fall asleep, it would never last very long.

“y/n.” he’d grumble, voice muffled from sleep, you’d hum in response. “i have to pee.” with a groan you slide out of the bed, crossing your arms across your chest as you glare down at the boy whilst he struggles to untangle the blanket from his legs.

minho always had to pee at night, his obsession with being on the inside of the bed against the wall meaning you had no choice but to get up every damn night to let the moron piss.

he’d come back with a dopey smile on his face, “all better.” he’d giggle, his hair an absolute disheveled mess from sleep. you’d roll your eyes despite your heart contracting at the sight. he doesn’t waste a moment to yank you back into his chest once you're both under the safety of your comforter, your cat jiji joining the two of you and curling up at the foot of your bed once the two of you have settled.

maybe minho was just a cuddly person. if he wasn’t spooning you he was spooning your cat, you wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a stuffed teddy bear on his bed or something, the boy clearly needed to suffocate something to let slumber take over him. sometimes you can’t help but question if his frequent visits to your apartment are actually due to his separation problems with your black cat, mooching off of your food and internet just being a bonus.

you always woke up in the morning with jiji on minho’s chest, the boy scratching the cat lovingly behind the ear, cooing nonsense at the animal and making obnoxiously loud kissy noises with no regard to your sleeping figure beside him.

sometimes you want to strangle him.

other times you really want to kiss him.

#lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee minho requests #lee know x reader #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids

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maggotmouth · 3 years ago

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hillo sexthy legends !! i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !! x o x

* CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

— born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

— its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

— margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

— for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

— at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

— she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

— a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.

— she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away. it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

— after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.

— she works at summer camps coaching junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

— enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment.

— she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

— used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

— was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

— nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

— has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

— she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

— calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

— stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

— lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

— constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

— frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you, indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine.

TLDR: angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

#aaaaaaa #we back boys #irvingintro #hmu for plots bayybeyyy

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Person

Master List

Mark was expecting a lot of things when he woke up. Maybe some pain, some fur on the floor, the nudity of course, what he wasn’t expecting though, was the screaming. Okay so it wasn’t so much of a scream as it was a shriek, and it was a familiar shriek, the same shriek you made when the big spiders got into the bathtub. Only this time, there were no spiders, so the real question was:

What the hell were you doing in his apartment the day after the full moon?

Sitting up quickly, which made his joints hurt a bit more, Mark rubbed at his face, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. It didn’t help when someone, probably you, tossed something on his head.

“What the fuck?” You both ask at the same time. Mark finally manages to pull the blanket off his head and get a proper look at you. You’re standing on the opposite side of the bed, only wearing one of his hoodies, with both of your hands over your face, peeking at him from between your fingers. That’s weird, you never go anywhere without pants. That’s when he noticed the Big Bang poster on the back of the door and had a revelation.

This was not his apartment, it was yours. He must have crawled in last night before sunrise.

“Mark Tuan, you have 10 seconds to explain what you’re doing on my bedroom floor, and more importantly, why you are naked.”

“It’s a long story.” He starts, maneuvering to cover himself with the blanket you tossed at him.

“Talk fast.” Mark wasn’t actually sure what to say. Hey babe, I’m a werewolf, sorry I never told you, its just I figured you wouldn’t want to put up with the shedding. “Mark?”

“Babe, its complicated.” You finally drop your hand, climbing back onto the bed to stare at him cross-legged.

“Have you been stalking me?”

“No!” He immediately defends, almost jumping up but remembering that he was, in fact, naked. “You know how you always thought it was weird how I could smell whenever the cafeteria was serving pizza, or how I can always here you call for me, even if I’m on the other side of campus?”

“Oh my god, are you a vampire?” Mark growled, actually growled, at your question, and he only had to look at the way your eyebrow crooked to know you thought that was hot. “Okay, not a vampire.”

“Think about it, baby-” Mark moved towards you again, but you sprang up from the bed pointing a stern finger at him.

“Sit.”

And he did. As soon as he did he burst out laughing, almost wheezing at the irony.

“What’s so funny?” You demanded to know, taking a step away from him.

“Dog commands.” He managed to whimper, doubled over laughing with his forehead touching the floor, you almost didn’t hear him.

“Dog com- oh my god.” He finally managed to look up to find you crouching on the other side of the bed, hands over your face again, your shoulders were shaking slightly and Mark was worried you were crying. “You’re a werewolf and I-” You exploded with laughter, tossing your head back hard enough you fell onto your butt. “Oh my god, that explains so much.” You managed to gasp out. “Why you never want to hang out on full moons, why Jackson always complains about dog fur. And it’s why Spaghetti doesn’t like you.” You point over to the orange and white cat lounging on her cat tree. “Cause you’re a dog.” You whisper the last words, laying your head on the bed to look at him. He mimics your position.

“I’m a wolf.” He whispers back.

“You’re naked.” Your pink cheeks make him smile.

“I am.” He nods, which proved to be a little difficult with his chin pressed into your mattress.

“Well, I think we need to have a long conversation, but I have to pee, and you need to get dressed, so I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You should have some spare clothes in the closet.” You nod once before standing and leaving the room.

When you walk back into the room Mark is now wearing only sweatpants, while attempting to get Spaghetti to play with him, though the Scottish Fold seems like she's trying to rip his fingers off for sport and not so much for fun. Mark looks over the second you walk in, which lets the cat get a decent bite in before he manages to yank his hand away. “So,” You begin, walking over to your boyfriend, instinctively your hand moves to the large scars on his chest, the ones you now realized much have been from a werewolf. “Something tells me you weren’t born like this.”

“No,” He shudders slightly when your fingertips graze over the puckered skin. “I was attacked just after middle school.”

“Do you have a pack? I hear its bad to be a wolf alone.”

“I do, we aren’t all wolves, but its like Teen Wolf, you know?”

“So when you transform, is it like Teen Wolf, or closer to Harry Potter?” His hand catches yours, stopping your movements, but you still won't look up at him.

“Neither, on full moons, its something more like a monster movie. That’s why I stay away, I can’t control myself very well. Other times, I just look like a big wolf.” You're quiet for a long time. Mark is expecting anger, or maybe even fear, but you smell completely fine. “Baby,” He prompts, tilting your chin up with his free hand. “I wanted to tell you I promise but-”

“I’m not angry, Mark. I promise.”

“You’re not?” You shake your head, smiling up at him.

“I think I always knew you were something else. You’re the white wolf that follows me home after my late classes, aren’t you?” He can’t stop himself from chuckling.

“Yeah, its me.” The humor quickly falls from his face. “Y/n, I’ll understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore-”

“Shut up, Mark.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been in a relationship with you for long enough. I guess I’ll just invest in a good vacuum and maybe a nice doggy bed.” You joke, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I do not want a doggy bed.” He huffs as you walk back to the bedroom door. “That’s just mean.” You turn back to him as you open the door. “Awe did I make the little puppy upset? Come on, I’ll make breakfast.”

“I don’t want to come with you.” He huffs. Your laughter echoes down the hall as you get further away.

“Mark, heel.”

#mark tuan imagines #got7 mark #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan #got7 imagines #got7 imagine #goodwriterwithbadhabits #requests #halloween event

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dawninlatin · 4 years ago

Text

We’re not getting a pet, love

Part of the Manorian Teacher AU

This was requested by @biaguiar11. Sorry for taking so long, hope you like it:)

Words: 2307

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: I would like to dedicate this fic to my cat, Chewbacca. Had you not been so adorable this morning, this piece of shit never would have existed. *tears up* I love you man<3<3

Also feel free to leave a comment, telling me what you think;)

«Come on!»

«No.»

«Manon, please.» Dorian tried his very best to make sad-puppy eyes at his girlfriend, pouting his lip, all of it to convince her that they simply had to get a cat.

«We’re not getting a cat, and if you send me one more GIF of cute kittens I will block you on all social media.» She was glaring at him from across the counter, and Dorian would be lying if he said it didn’t terrify him slightly.

They’d been having this discussion for weeks, but she wouldn’t budge. Dorian insisted that it was the natural step to take next in their relationship - they’d recently bought a house - and honestly, every home should have a cat.

Too bad Manon didn’t agree.

«But just imagine a teeny, tiny, adorable kitten curling up against you, with it’s tiny paws and tiny, little face.» The image was so adorable it made Dorian tear up a little.

Manon shook her head, giving him an annoyed look. «Kittens aren’t adorable. They’re cunning, vicious little creatures that will kill you in your sleep,» she said, shuddering.

«Don’t tell me the Manon Blackbeak is afraid of kittens?»

«Pfft, I’m not afraid of kittens,» Manon claimed, but Dorian noticed the way she didn’t meet his eyes, the way she bit her lip. His girlfriend was many things, but a good liar was not one of them.

Dorian was baffled. Even if he hated that word, it was the only way to truly describe how shocked he was at this admittance. She was the one who killed the spiders in their relationship, after all. «So getting a pet snake is fine with you, but you’re afraid of a cat?»

Last week, when they’d had the exact same argument, Manon had suggested that if he was so eager to get a pet, they could get a snake. He knew she’d said it just to shut him up, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he one day came home to them having a pet snake. The mere idea had him feeling a little sick. He’d told her as much then, but Manon had only grinned like a mad woman.

No way were they getting a snake.

«I’m done with this discussion,» was all she said before disappearing up the stairs.

Dorian wasn’t done though, and he stood up, trailing after her, all the way into their bedroom, where he found her putting away laundry. She always started cleaning when she was angry.

«Why can’t we get a cat?» he whined.

«I’m allergic,» she said, her words blunt. She didn’t even turn around to look at him, instead walking into the adjoining bathroom with a pile of clothes.

Flopping onto the bed, Dorian said, «We both know you’re not allergic.» He gave her a pointed stare as she reentered the room, stopping in the doorway.

«I just don’t understand why you absolutely have to get a cat.»

«I just don’t understand why you absolutely refuse to get a cat.» Dorian pouted once more, fluttering his eyelashes for extra effect.

Manon let out a long, annoyed sigh, but he knew her anger had faded based on the faint smile playing on her lips.

«Pets are a lot of work, Dorian. We’re busy enough as it is.»

This, at least, was an argument he had prepared for. «It isn’t. All you have to do is feed it twice a day, let it out when it has to pee and give it some love and attention. And you’re very good at the love and attention part!»

«But I have already decided that we’re not getting a cat.»

Turning so he lay on his stomach, he brought back the puppy eyes from earlier, and said, «But think of all the sad, lonely kittens at the animal shelter who doesn’t have anyone to love them…» Dorian pretended to wipe away a tear. Manon answered by giving him a deadly glare accompanied by her middle finger.

«Must you be so dramatic? I’m really dating a child…»

Dorian placed his head in his palms, kicking his legs just to further her point. «You love it when I’m dramatic.»

«I don’t,» Manon said, sitting down next to him.

«You do,» Dorian said, flicking her nose.

«Don’t boop me.»

«If we had a kitten I could boop them instead.»

Manon quickly stood up again, throwing her arms in the air as she let out a frustrated groan. «I’m not losing this argument!»

She had lost the argument.It was the only way to explain why she now found herself standing at the local animal shelter.

Manon wanted to be mad, she really did, but Dorian was making it hard for her with his fawning over all the tiny, squeaking kittens.

«Oh, look at that one Manon. Isn’t it adorable?»

No, they weren’t adorable, she wanted to say, eager to get it over with as soon as possible. They had come her straight after work, so she was tired, and hungry, and she didn’t even want to get a cat. This was all on Dorian.

But to be fair…he deserved this. Deserved to be happy. It was what had made her cave in the end, actually.

Dorian had pouted his lips and made those puppy eyes for the billionth time and said, «Don’t you want me to be happy?»

And truth be told…she would gladly endure a little ball of fur terrorizing their home if it meant the love of her life was happy.

Manon rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Living with Dorian had made her soft…

Sensing her discomfort, Dorian placed a hand on her lower back, drawing her closer. He pressed a light kiss on her head before his attention shifted back to the small demons.

But Manon couldn’t stay in here for much longer. Animals in cages, even if they were well cared for, and only here for a short while, had always made her uncomfortable, and the hall was too dark, too cramped, the walls coming closer, and then there was the gods-damned smell. Was this smell supposed to take permanent residence in her house from now on? She had to get out, had to get air-

«I’m sorry,» she mumbled to Dorian before heading towards the heavy door at the end of the hall. She’d nearly made it when a tiny squeak made her stop.

She crouched down and peered into the dark cage. In one of the corners, she could make out a tiny, pitch-black kitten taking her in with big, sad eyes.

«What’s wrong with this one?» she asked the middle aged woman that had shown them around.

«He’s a fighter, that one,» the woman said, giving Manon a grim smile.

«Born much smaller than the rest of the litter, so his mother abandoned him. When he came to us, he was so weak we didn’t think he would survive, but he fought with teeth and claws, and now he’s as healthy as any other cat.» She looked proud of the little black cat. «He still keeps to himself though, won’t go near the other cats, as afraid as he is. I swear he is even terrified of his own shadow.»

Hearing these words, Manon felt something strange settle deep inside, and she hardly had time to think before she announced to the room; «We want this one.»

Dorian, who’d made his way over to her, looked at the kitten, then back at Manon, and grinned. «If you say so.»

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

This was a horrible idea.

When they’d first gotten home, the cat with them, Manon had gone straight to the shower, leaving Dorian to take care of it all.

Once she emerged from the bathroom, nearly an hour later, Dorian was still sitting on the floor, and the cat was still inside the cardboard box they had carried him in.

Apparently, Dorian had tried everything he could think of to coax the kitten out of his hiding spot, but he remained in the corner, curled up into a quivering ball.

It wasn’t until he had spotted Manon, looking over the edge, that he had let out a high-pitched meow, making his way out of the box on stumbling feet.

«Him,» she tried explaining, pointing to Dorian, as the cat made his way towards her, «Go to him.» But the cat either didn’t understand, or he simply didn’t care, stopping right in front of her.

«I’m not your mother,» she told the creature, voice frantic. It was sitting on the floor, staring at her with big, yellow eyes. It blinked once, and Manon jumped off the floor.

«Okay, that cat is giving me the creeps, so I’ll leave you to it, I have work to do.»

Dorian’s answering chuckle followed her into the kitchen, where she started making a much needed cup of coffee. She opened the cabinet and pulled out her favorite mug. The one shaped like a t-rex.

A yelp escaped her as she turned around to find the tiny, black kitten sitting right in front of her, head tilted slightly. «Holy sh-»

«I think he likes you,» Dorian said, appearing in the doorway. He was wearing his usual smug expression.

«Nope, I can’t do it,» Manon said, taking a step forward. The cat followed, trailing her like a shadow.

Deciding to distract him, Manon walked over to his bowls and stood there, waiting, until he began eating. Once she’d made sure he wouldn’t fall into his water bowl and drown, Manon hauled ass all the way to her study on the second floor, leaving Dorian with the horrid beast he had wanted so badly.

As the door shut behind her, she let out a sigh of relief. If the cat somehow managed to reach her now, she was moving out. He could just have the house.

Manon began to work, needing to plan her classes for tomorrow. She tried to focus on her task, but more often than not, her mind wandered off to what she was missing out on downstairs.

She truly didn’t care for the creature, but what if he was scared? Would he be able to settle in their home? He had been treated so horribly…had been so alone. Would he get the love and care he needed from them?

Cursing her boyfriend for putting her in this situation, Manon grabbed her laptop and dragged herself back down to the living room.

What she didn’t expect to find was the house all quiet, Dorian sitting on the couch with a book, the cat nowhere to be seen. «Where is he?» she whispered carefully.

«Under the couch, sleeping. I think he likes dark corners.»

«Hm,» was all Manon said, sitting next to him. She opened her laptop once more and tried to focus on her work.

«Are you okay?» Dorian asked, and as she turned to look at him, she found concern softening his features.

She sighed. «Yes. I’ll get used to it…eventually.» She didn’t sound entirely convinced, but Dorian released a breath of relief.

«You know I love you, right?» Dorian asked, before standing up and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

«Yeah, and I love you,» she whispered back, pulling him down so his lips could meet hers.

As they broke apart, Dorian headed towards the stairs, announcing, «I’m taking a shower, won’t be long.»

Manon sunk further into the couch, fighting to stay awake. She just had to finish up her work-

A high-pitched meow interrupted her, and she looked down to find their cat trying to climb onto the couch, his claws imbedded deep into the fabric. «Not the couch,» Manon groaned softly, but there was no real reprimand in her voice.

The kitten struggled to pull his tiny body onto the piece of furniture, and when he finally succeeded, Manon reached over to pet his little head. The movement felt awkward, but the cat’s eyes widened, and he quickly climbed onto Manon’s chest, before settling there, right over her heart.

Manon’s whole body stiffened at first, nervous for what the beast would do next, but he only began purring, pressing his small paws against her chest. «Fine,» Manon whispered, giving in at last. She placed her laptop on the table, simply letting herself relax.

She began stroking him, and he answered by purring even louder.

«What a big day you must’ve had,» Manon said to the small cat. «I can’t imagine how scary it must be to move into such a big house with two strangers.»

He probably couldn’t understand her, but she kept going anyway.

«This is your home from now on. We’ll give you love and care, and I promise we won’t abandon you.» The kitten looked at her with those big eyes of his, meowing once. It made Manon’s heart feel all warm and fuzzy.

«We need to give you a name, too. Dorian wanted Batman, you know, since you’re all black, but one, that is the most uncreative, unoriginal name I have ever heard, and two, all the other cats will bully you for it, and we can’t have any of that, can we?» She gave him a serious look. «So I refused, you can thank me later.»

But Batman or not, the cat still needed a name. Manon searched her memory for anything that could fit. It had to be unique, and badass, and-

«Abraxos.»

The cat lifted his head, staring at her.

«Your name is Abraxos,» Manon decided, marveling at how right it felt.

After that, he settled down, curling into a ball once more. Before Manon knew it, Abraxos was asleep, and at the small, warm weight on her chest, at the sound of him snoring softly, Manon smiled, knowing she already loved this cat very, very much.

#did i mention that i love cats?#dawninlatin teacher au #manorian fluff #manorian au #manorian fanfiction #manorian #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #abraxos #throne of glass #throne of glass fluff #throne of glass fanfiction #sarah j maas

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stetervault · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Do you do rec lists? Would you be willing rec some Steter fics that aren't the most common/popular ones? If not, no worries!

Technically this isn’t a rec-finding blog lol but I do make rec lists sometimes if someone asks and I have the time and I feel like it. Here are some (I think?) less known Steter fics, oldies that people may have missed or forgotten (Idk how well I succeeded, I just picked a bunch that have significantly less reads/bookmarks than the really big fics):

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

A Lean and Hungry Look by kototyph

The woods aren't the only place you find wolves.

You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

He Is A Villain By The Devil's Law by neglectedtuesday

Stiles’ lungs are burning, blood is pumping through his veins and he’s pretty sure that if he stops running then he’ll just keel over into the gutter. But God does he feel alive. The sirens are wailing, loud and clear. Just one more block. One more block. Stiles ducks down an alleyway, the bag full of bank notes swinging behind him. It hits his side with a dull thud. The alley smells like cat pee and yesterdays trash so Stiles breathes shallowly through his mouth. He continues walking down it until he reaches the end. It opens out onto the street. He stops just shy of the exit, waiting. He waits a bit more. Then he kicks a can lying idle on the ground. He whips out his burner phone, punching in a number.

“Where the fuck are you?” Stiles growls, “Where’s my goddamn getaway car?”

“Change of plans Stilinski, you’re gonna have to get away on your own. Also ditch the phone.”

Fascinated by lemonstiles, migratoryslashfan

Stiles pontificates over Peter's naked body.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

Impress Me by ToAStranger

Their new English teacher has gone missing.

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

Sweeter Than Gingerbread by taylorpotato (Stetallison)

The saying goes that lovers who commit suicide together start their next life as twins. Perhaps that's why Stiles and Ally feel the way they do about each other.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn't trick a person or two?

Deep under by Sashaya

There's a reason Stiles knows so much about drowning. He'd rather not remember why...

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Hold Me Down by sneksonaplane

Waking up in Peter Hale’s bed was weird. Waking up in Peter Hale’s body was even weirder. Stiles had been disoriented and confused when he’d found himself in a plush, king sized bed in an unfamiliar bedroom instead of in his own room (and seriously, why did Peter even need a king sized bed? Why would anyone need a bed that big?) It had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the body he was inhabiting, one that was shorter but more defined than his own, and older, and kind of hot.

The one where Stiles and Peter swap bodies, Peter relives his adolescence, Stiles suffers, and then suffers a little less when he discovers Peter's fetlife profile where he's listed as a submissive seeking a daddy.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

Put My Faith in Something Unknown by Twisted_Mind

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Buy Me a New Pair by Julibean19

"I don't practice law much these days."

"And why is that?" Stiles asked, wondering why a handsome and presumably successful lawyer wouldn't want to continue working.

"I've been drawn away by more pleasurable pursuits," Peter said, lips quirked upward as he spoke.

Tale as Old as Time by wynnebat

The one in which Lydia's got better things to do than be Belle, Stiles is a much more likeable Gaston, and Peter is a beast but not quite beastly.

The clothes make the man by FeelingsDusk

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Spolier alert: just like back then, Stiles gets caught.)

Smile Like You Mean It by NinaRooxx

After sulking about the changing weather over the autumn, Stiles notices that despite the weather getting colder, Peter’s wardrobe isn’t changing at all.

Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

Angels, Devils, and Peter by Triangulum

Everyone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. They give advice, help guide their human through life. They tempt, they listen, they offer help. Everyone has one of each. Everyone except for Stiles.

Stiles and Peter are murder husbands.

love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There's a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

Looking After You by Slayer_of_Destiny

Can Peter be a chance for Stiles, can Stiles be a second chance for Peter? When Peter offers Stiles a relationship will the younger man take the chance with the werewolf?

Maybe We Both Are by lavenderlotion

The first time Stiles lets his fingers brush against Peter he wasn’t expecting the response he got. They were sitting on Stiles bed researching something. Or, they were researching. Now they were just talking. They did that a lot these days, just talked. They also ate together a lot. Or got coffee.

these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

Can You Use Lube For That? by AlreadyBoss

“You think your what is haunted now?” Surely he'd misheard. There was no way-

“My vibrator,” Stiles answered with alarming sincerity.

Well. He hadn't misheard after all.

Pianist Envy by Bunnywest

Stiles is the piano player.Peter can think of other things he'd like to see those hands do.Shame the guy's straight.

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Lord Peter by Therapeutic_Steter

Peter rung out the rag before gently placing it on his mother’s head, reaching over to feel his father’s equally flushed features.

“Such a good boy,” his mother said, patting his arm with what little strength she had remaining. His father smiled softly at him even as his fell unconscious. Peter pushed back the lump in his throat, smiling shakily for his mother before venturing out into the living space.

knit me together by nezstorm

Peter asks Stiles to stay the night after a really awful day.

Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

#teen wolf #steter #rec list #fanfic rec #ask #anonymous

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

Note

oh boy i think i need a follow up piece to the ovulation prompt where peggy is pregnant and steve is equal parts turned on and overprotective

This is SO long overdue. I am so sorry, ya’ll I’m slowly working on it!!

there is smut in here, just be warned.

Pregnant.

That’s what the stick had said - to be precise, the pee stick that Steve had found in the trash when he was cleaning the bathroom. That’s what had taken Peggy so long this morning, then. No wonder she seemed a bit more uptight when she left for work this morning.

Did she know?

Was she going to tell him?

Part of Steve wanted to call his wife right then and there, demand to know about her being pregnant, but he also knew Peggy. Peggy would tell him when she wanted to. In the meantime, he just had to wait.

And patience, while a virtue, was not part of his vocabulary.

“Steve? What’s that smell?” is how Peggy greeted him when she came home later. Her hand covered her nose, the other waving it in front of his face. “Since when do you like broccoli or Brussel Sprouts?”

Turning on his heel, he turned to look at her, shifting the pot off of the burner to let their dinner simmer. Peggy looked okay. She looked normal. He knew she would not even be showing right now, but he still expected a belly, swollen feet, something. Nothing. She looked just as she left this morning, just with a more disgusted look on her face from the smell of the broccoli.

“Oh, uh dinner?” He questioned, shrugging his shoulders. “Since it’s cheaper at the market. Made us turkey too.”

Peggy’s lips pursed in question but by then, Steve had turned his back on her to finish their meal. In truth, he’d spent hours researching about her being pregnant. What food was best for her, what vitamins she needed to wait, what to expect? It made him terrified to think she was pregnant. He was going to be a father.

And she still had yet to tell him.

The idea of Peggy growing a belly had...stirred something in him. Something deep in his chest that made him want to both purr and growl, to claim his wife over and over on every surface of the apartment again. She might not be immediate delicate now, but he had to be careful. That meant even with sex.

However it smelled, dinner was good. She skipped out on wine, Steve noted, stuck to her evening tea. He’d have to stock up on ginger tea and licorice for nausea that’s to come. How early would morning sickness set in? He should look that up.

“Steve, darling, are you done?”

Peggy’s voice echoed in the bathroom, where Steve had been standing on his phone for the last twenty minutes. He blinked and rubbed at his face, slowly exiting the shower with his clothed half pulled on.

“Took you long enough,” Peggy mused, laid out in the bed, her hand moving underneath the blanket. As her head dipped back, Steve felt the phone slip from his hold, watching the way her face flushed. He knew exactly what those hands were doing. “I thought you’d drowned in there.”

“Coulda rescued me,” he mumbled, kicking his phone aside and tearing his clothes off. “You like playin’ the hero.”

He crawled under the covers and hovered over Peggy’s frame. The serum allowed him to see well under the covers, watching her fingers disappear between her legs. This close he could smell her, this close he knew she was pregnant.

Her scent had shifted, to something more primal. Sweet, but musky, something that felt like...his, no, theirs.

A shudder ran down his spine at the thought, his cock throbbing between his legs at the idea that growing inside of her was their child.

The thought, however arousing, also terrified him. She was pregnant. What if he hurt her? By accident? What if he laid down on her, thrust too hard? What if he hurt their child? The thoughts terrified him, his blood running cold on the idea that he could cause her or their unborn child pain.

“Hey, you.”

Peggy’s hand stopped moving as she spoke, slowly pulling away to leave a glossy trail along her thighs. She cupped Steve’s stubbly face, dragging her wet fingers across his lips. Smelling it just made the arousing and terrifying thoughts increase.

“What are you thinking about, Stevie? What’s wrong?”

This time, when he didn’t take the bate, the blankets pulled back for them to look at one another. Her hazel eyes searched his, trying to read through the mask he wore. She just sighed when Steve shook his head.

“Sorry, got caught up in my head.”

There was a reason she wasn’t telling him she was pregnant. He wouldn’t force her hand. He just had to ignore those dangerous thoughts.

To prove a point that he was okay, Steve dropped himself between her legs. He was almost tender in his touch despite how he knew she liked it rough, lifting her legs over his shoulders. She tried to get him to be rougher, legs squeezing around his head, thrusting her hips towards his mouth. He didn’t take the bait.

Instead, Steve lovingly ate Peggy out. His tongue pressed deep inside her warmth. Her heat, walls throbbing around his tongue. He batted her hands away, holding onto her thighs tighter. Her sweet moans and hips thrusting made him moan, vibrating inside of her. He loved her. Christ, he loved her.

They were going to have a child together.

“Darling?”

Steve picked his head up from where he’d been reading the newspaper, feeling Peggy’s eyes on him from the other side of the table. “Yeah?”

Peggy bit her bottom lip, a sign that she was worrying over something. There was plenty to worry about, Steve noted. Her being pregnant, her health, her job, pregnancy, the apartment, the leaking faucet, their cat, oh, and her being pregnant.

“I couldn’t help but notice the other night…” She sighed and let her shoulders drop slightly. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice how gentle you were. As if...you holding back.”

She looked at him with wide, questionable eyes, not wanting to finish the sentence, not wanting to hurt his pride.

Steve sighed, closing his eyes for a long second. It’s been a few days since he found the positive pregnancy test and their first night together. He had been gentle. He’d taken his time eating her out, he’d fucked her as he did when they got married, sweet and gentle. And she was worried about him? About her?

Fuck.

“I know,” he finally said, dropping his hands from his hair and looking straight at her. Her lips had pursed, but not changed. “I know you’re pregnant.”

Peggy was quiet, staring at Steve before her eyes watered. He looked at her in alarm when she burst into tears, standing up abruptly and sending the chair flying. He ran around to her and dropped to his knees, cupping her face.

“Peggy, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Darling, talk to me.”

The worst thoughts ran through his head. She was hurt. She didn’t tell him. He could never think she had cheated either but that anxiety made him start to consider it. Until she threw herself at him, knocking them both to the floor. He instantly caught her, burying his face into her neck.

“I am so sorry, Steve,” Peggy hiccuped, pulling away to try to clean her face. “I-I was going to tell you, darling. I was! I just...just...wanted to be sure. You know those tests, they’re finicky. I didn’t want to give you false hope.”

It was Steve’s turn to cry, the tears burning his eyes. He pulled Peggy closer, if at all possible, and kissed her. A soft, loving kiss to her lips.

“Peggy, darling… I love you. Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

He felt such relief, a fierce sense that made him dizzy. She was pregnant and it was theirs.

“No, no I lied to you. I didn’t tell you, and you deserved to know, and…” She was silenced by Steve’s kiss, her arms tightening around his head.

“You were just trying to look after me, Pegs. I...I’m just so relieved, you never cry and when you...did, I got worried.” His face flushed as she pulled back, hand gripping her waist. “You’re pregnant. We’re pregnant.”

They were pregnant. They were together and having a child together. A child! Crushing Peggy’s lips against his, Steve’s hips rose on their own accord. She responded by forcing her hips down, right onto the growing bulge.

“You m-minx,” she teased, cleaning her face up. “Are you aroused from the idea of me being pregnant?”

“Pegs, I’m always aroused because of you.”

Her lips curled into a smile, reaching down to adjust their pants. Meaning she popped open his pajama pants and pulled her own to the side. There was little hesitation as she lowered herself onto his cock, both gasping and holding onto one another at the beautiful pressure and being filled to the brim.

Steve’s mouth hung open, head was thrown back, and moaning. He wanted to be careful, he had to be careful, but he had to fill her. Fuck her. Claim her from the inside out. He gripped at her waist, hard enough to leave bruises as he thrust his hips into her. She responded rightfully by bringing her hips down, squeezing her walls around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, feeling her nails bite into his chest. “Pegs, I-I don’t wanna hurt you…”

Opening his eyes, he saw how she stared down at him. Pupils are blown, full of lust and need, not caring if he did somehow hurt her. He could read the thoughts on her face - he was being utterly ridiculous.

“Steven, if you do not breed me right this second, I will be forced to claim what is mine. And the last we need is to break another bed because I tied you to the headboard.”

What the lady wants, the lady gets. She knew just how to edge him on. Gripping her waist tightly and thrusting his cock inside of her. He could just see how her cunt clung to his cock, soaking him. She felt just like heaven, squeezing around him in all the right spots. Each rock of his hips caused her to rock down, dragging beautiful sounds from her lips right on the kitchen floor.

Peggy’s tits bounced in his face, causing him to reach out to grab them. Hold them in his fingers, gently pulling on her nipples as he let the force of his hips to cause them to bounce. Her screeches were damn well going to call the cops called on them, but fuck it be worth it.

“Steven! Steven, please!” Her nails bit into his chest, leaving red marks behind.

Steve’s eyes squeezed shut at the familiar burning inside of his gut. Peggy was pregnant. She was pregnant with their child. Their growing baby was inside of her. Caused by him. By them. By doing this very thing on the floor. The idea of her belly growing, her tits filling out with milk. Her scent was intoxicating already, further along in the pregnancy was going to drive him insane.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The curses snarled from his lips as he replaced his hands on her tits to her waist, practically bouncing her up and down. Peggy’s jagged moans filled his head as his balls tightened. The final strike had been her walls squeezing around him.

He couldn’t stop the wild thrusts of his hips, bouncing her wildly off of him and nearly throwing her off in session as the orgasm wracked his entire being. His face tensed, body shuddered as he came, painting her velvet walls with his cum.

She instantly collapsed into him, breathing hard and kissing his jawline lazily. His hand tightened in her hair, kissing her temple.

“We’re pregnant,” he breathed, closing his eyes as wary, relieving exhaustion washed over him. He kissed her head, shuddering on the floor.

“We’re pregnant,” Peggy confirmed. “But we need to get off the kitchen floor - the plumber will be here later today to look at the faucet.”

Buy Me A Coffee

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Pregnant!Peggy #Modern Steggy #Continue of Prompt #Smut #Fluff and SMut #Overprotective Steve

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imnotwolverine · 5 years ago

Text

Happy beginnings

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: Just a little fluff to quench your quarantine thirst.

Word count: 4.061

Disclaimer: fluff

---

This is part 2 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the masterlist here.

---

< Back to part 1

Another work week followed, that had made the last week seem like child’s play. Many changes had to be made. Overtime. A 16-hour workday. I barely had time to sleep or eat. By the time the last shoot was rolling, I had trouble keeping my eyes open, barely taking in the directing orders. Henry had steadily texted me throughout the week, drank tea with me once, be it rushed (a good 5 minutes), but other then that our contact had been minimal.

I was walking like a zombie towards the bus stop, hearing a car honk, making me fly up from my dazed state. I looked around, squinting my eyes to see. It was him. I sighed, letting out a breath of cold air, and walked up to his window. He looked equally exhausted. ‘Hey.’ I said meekly. ‘Hey you. Can I drive you home?’ ‘You sure?’ ‘Yes.’ He said with a confirming look, then nodded with his head to the other door. I walked over sluggishly and climbed in. He rubbed my leg and sighed. ‘These are the rough weeks.’ He said half yawning. ‘Tell me about it.’ I yawned, stretching myself, then looking at him. Even exhausted he was a thing of beauty. I touched his cheek with a drifting hand, which he caught, kissing it, then looking back at the road. It was rather quiet on the road as it was just past midnight. I felt my eyes flutter with sleep, making the struggle to stay awake, quite real.

We arrived at my place and without question we got inside my apartment, dumped our stuff, locked down and moved straight to bed. ‘I ..eh..got my period yesterday. So you know.’ I whispered, while we laid down in bed, snuggling. He kissed my forehead. ‘You okay?’ ‘Other then exhausted and moody? Pretty alright. I’ve had worse.’ I sniffled, snuggling even closer into his chest. We shared a quick good night peck, after which I fell asleep rather quickly, only waking up at some point since he was moving me so he could roll to his side, immediately embracing me again. I felt his hot breath in slow deep heaves heating my neck. His left hand folded protectively over my lower belly. The next day a heat wave broke through. Around 10 am we rolled out of bed sweating. I slumped to the bathroom to clean myself up, while Henry took a leak, making me wonder how comfortable we already were around each other. Usually it took a good 5 months before someone would pee openly next to the other..right? I guess not. This was more like 1 month. I snorted at his casual behaviour and moved to the kitchen to make some breakfast. It was time I got more food in my fridge, because with his appetite I ran out of food at an alarming rate.

Eating breakfast he looked at me sheepishly. ‘They are …starting to notice you.’ I looked up in dazed confusion from my bowl of muesli. ’They?’ ‘Colleagues. Asking ..what we are to each other.’ I smiled, remaining quiet. He continued. ‘I eh…would like to say we’re dating..but..are you okay with that?’ I looked up with an amused smile. ‘Of course. If anything I don’t want, it is for you to have to lie. We are dating. They may know that.’ ‘Good.’ He smiled, content. ‘May I tell my family about you?’ ‘Uhm…’ I looked up again at him. ‘Do you tell them about every woman you date?’ ‘No.’ I looked at him in disbelief. ‘So….’ ‘I really really like you. I want them to know about you first through me. Not the press.’ I nodded slowly, then shrugging. ‘I guess that’s a valid point. Thanks for asking. You can tell them if you want.’ He smiled, taking another large bite of his eggs on toast. I studied him for a moment. His large body sat on that tiny chair, hovered over a small breakfast plate with toast and eggs. His chest hair peaking out of his tight shirt, his hair disheveled, lost in thought while studying some advertisements that got into the mail. He eventually noticed me, smiling warmly at me.

We sat there for a bit before he sat up, ready to leave for the rest of his appointments that day. Despite his already completely exhausting work schedule, he had some sword training this afternoon and of course Kal required some attention. We kissed tired, languid kisses. I could see words on his tongue he did not speak when he cupped my face for a moment. Instead he just took a deep, hesitant breath and touched his forehead to mine. We stood there for a minute, just breathing each others breaths, sniffing each others smells, in the hallway of my apartment. A moment he eventually broke by pressing one more lingering kiss on my lips before he left. About an hour after he left, he send me an emoticon that made my breath stop for a moment. A heart. It said enough. But I wasn’t sure I could…return it. I did not give my love lightly. Wasn’t this just lust? I didn’t really know him all that well just yet. I instead sent back a blushing emoticon.

I went for a run, did some grocery shopping and snuggled all evening with Bib. She seemed even more slow than usual. A soft concern panged at my heart. She was 17. And the vet had already told me that she already was way past her due date. No teeth, near blind, scruffy pelt, hanging belly, weak muscles. I stroked her. ‘Hey you. Are you in pain?’ She didn’t even look up, while laying on her heated blanket. I tilted my head. I felt frustrated..I couldn’t go to the vet tomorrow, didn’t have a car to bring her to the vet hospital 10 kilometers away. I sighed, knitting my eyebrows together. Then again, there was little the vet could do, other then putting her to sleep. Forever. A silent tear billowed over my cheek. I eventually lifted her up, to which she didn’t respond, and put her next to me on the bed. I fell asleep stroking her scruffy pelt.

The next morning it was done. Bib’s body no longer showed life. She had gone slightly hard and cold. Tears started billowing over my cheeks. And despite it all, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, put on clothes, pushed a few bites of breakfast inside my cheeks and pushed myself to walk out the door and go to work. I felt so lonely. I felt tears burn behind my eyes while colleagues muttered I was late and everything had to be changed again. I felt frustration I couldn’t just go home. Why couldn’t they just do it themselves? I huffed in frustration and went to the toilet to regain my senses. Sitting down in the stall of the women’s toilets I looked at the door. It said Kim Heart Henry. I blinked slowly, before deciding it was just another fan. I picked up my phone, then started scrolling back in me and Henry’s Whatsapp messages. It all left me cold for a moment, my eyes just gazing over the short conversations. And then I saw the first picture I sent to him. Bib. Tears started billowing over my cheeks. I sat there for a few minutes, just balling my eyes out. Not really caring that other people might hear me.

‘Hey..you okay girl?’ A heavy texan accent. I sniffled, wiping away the heavy tears. ‘Uh…Hi. Sorry.’ ‘Did he dump you?’ She said a touch more quietly. ‘What? Oh..no. Uh.’ I got up, flushed away the toilet paper I used for tissues and opened the stall door. It was one of the make up ladies. ‘My cat died.’ I sniffled in quiet voice, feeling not quite strong enough to fake a smile, my lip trembling. ‘Awh.’ She snickered motherly. ‘Oh honey!’ She wrapped her flabby arms around me without question, squeezing me tight. ‘That sucks!’ I laughed a shivery laugh. ‘She was old. It was coming. Still..sad.’ ‘You had me worried there for a moment. Thought he had gotten enough of you…like all those girls.’ I wiped away some tears and moved away from her a bit. ‘You’ve probably seen them all.’ ‘Yep. Coming. Going. He’s definitely searching.’ I splashed my face with some water, then dried it off with a paper towel. ‘You don’t seem to mind.’ I grinned, smiling at her, my eyes still red from tears. ‘I think many women don’t realise he’s a real person, not just some wet dream.’ She giggled. ‘Oh he ..is adorable, isn’t he? He reminds me so of my son.’ She flipped out her bag and revealed some make-up. ‘Let’s fix you up. First lesson in dating Henry. Don’t look too much of a sad mess or people will start spreading gossip like wild fire.’ I grinned sadly, allowing her to put on some eyeliner, blush and concealer. She was remarkably fast. ‘Wow, you’re fast.’ I said, looking into the mirror. She shrugged. ‘Don’t need to beat around the bush. And don’t want to hide your curious beauty.’ She tugged at my chin like a proud mother. I looked at her. She looked happy. I felt honored. ‘Thank you…?’ ‘Merle.’ ‘Merle.’ She winked. ‘Come on then gal.’

That evening on set, finally getting time to look at my phone, I noticed a bunch of new texts. ‘Hey..I heard about Bib. So sorry :( Want a hug?’ Sent an hour ago. I texted back. ‘Yea. Gosh. Had a little crying sesh in the bathroom today and Merle mothered me *sad smiley* Such a sweet woman.’ Quite immediately I saw the two checkmarks appear. Message read. I looked a bit at my screen in a daze, then had to move since some large decor pieces had to be moved. Not long after I noticed a white wig moving in the crowd, walking into the hallway, clearly looking for something, dodging moving crews, smiling at people talking to him. Henry. It took a good while before he was able to move through the crowd, before he saw me. And I just stood there, phone in hand, somewhat staring at him. He gave me a sad smile, sighed in relief and made quick way to me. Without saying a word he crushed his lips against mine. I could hear some gasps around me. For many the news hadn’t spread that we were in fact dating. So surely they were at best surprised, at worst in shock. But that didn’t matter. He cupped my face with his large hands and looked deeply into my eyes. ‘Sweetness.’ I just gave him a slow smile, my eyes still sad. His thumb stroked my cheek. ‘You could have texted me.’ ‘I know.’ I looked up into his eyes. We didn’t speak, just looked at each other. “CREW 1, shoot starts in 2. HALL 2.4. REPEAT. CREW 1, shoot starting.” I saw his lip pulling, his ear peaking at the speaker. He nodded, then looked back at me. ‘Off you go.’ I said, offering him a smile. He breathed in, pulling me in for one more kiss, a kiss that made him have to rush to get back on set in time, so slow and sweet. Like a prowling cat he jumped past people, disappearing again in the buzz.

One of the women came up from behind me, whispering: ‘It won’t last honey.’ I looked around, but seeing so many different people passing by, I couldn’t possibly know who it’d been. I looked around some more, then decided to shrug it off and get back to work. Just one more hour for set to end. Back in the bus homeward I opened our text conversations again. I sent him a kissing emoticon. ‘Thanks bear.’ He didn’t respond until I was in bed. ‘Rawr!’ With a smirking emoticon. I fell asleep with my phone in hand. Bib’s cold body now wrapped in a blanket next to me. Like she always enjoyed sleeping. But it didn’t feel so lonely now. Henry was there in spirit.

The week crawled by at excruciating slowness. Apparently the gossip train had started. I noticed people whispering, staring at me. And I decided to just smile at them, giving them the nod, or just plain ignoring them. By Friday I even got a comment from the bus driver. ‘Hey..aren’t you that gal that’s…hmm..where do I know you from?’ ‘I did a hair commercial once?’ I suggested. I saw him struggling to remember and he eventually shrugged it off. I never played in a hair commercial. I grinned, checked in and walked to the very back of the bus. The lights flashed by. Just one more day. I had, with pain in my heart, discarded Bib’s body at the vet’s office. It was empty in my house. No loud meows. Then I noticed a card on my door mat. I clicked on the lights and pushed the door closed. Curly handwriting. I pried open the envelope and pulled out a gold inscripted grey card. The premiere date for the new season we shot last year. I smiled. I sent a picture of the invitation to Henry. ‘You there Witcher?’ He responded with a selfie with an equal invitation, giving the oh-you-look. ‘They’re sending these invitations way ahead. Damn.’ ‘Hollywood…otherwise you’ll find nobody show up hehe. Besides. The storm following for dress shopping.’ ‘You’ll surely look darling in a dress.’ I sent with a wink emoticon. ‘Too soon to ask you along?’ ‘Too soon.’ I replied immediately. He sent a shrugging emoticon. Followed by a screenshot of some online webshop with dresses. ‘Red might be too daring right?’ I snickered. ‘Pick blue, fits your eyes. And halter, so your shoulders pop nicely.’ He sent an emoticon in laughter.

Henry is typing… I poured myself a cup of tea, keeping an eye on the screen. ‘I’ve told my mom about you :)’ ‘That’s so sweet. How’s your mom?’ ‘Good. Busy being a grandma to all my brother’s kids.’ Wink emoticon. Henry is typing…Removed. Henry is typing… I felt my heart racing again. ‘Was wondering. Do you go back to family over the holidays? Christmas?’ I looked in bafflement at that question. It was 3 more months till Christmas. 3 More weeks till we moved production to Poland. Then just one more month together on set before I moved to the UK. ….Then two months apart till Christmas. I sighed, feeling my heart jump. I clicked the call icon in the corner, waiting for him to pick up.

‘Hi.’ ‘Hi.’ ‘Christmas huh.’ ‘Too soon….?’ ‘It’s hard to go slow with you Henry. Uhm. I’m actually visiting my parents first day of Christmas. But’ll be back in the UK the second. Shooting starts again the…uh..Monday..after, I believe.’ ‘So, would you..like to maybe, visit my family then? Late Christmas? My mom cooks up amazing turkey.’ ‘Haha..If we still date by then, sure.’ ‘I’m glad.’ I heard him release a held-in breath. ‘Henry?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Are we…exclusive?’ I heard him snicker. ‘You are my one and only. Don’t let jealous women get to your head.’ ‘I know. I don’t even think you’d have time for anyone else. I just. Wanted to check.’ He didn’t hesitate: ‘Do you have time this Sunday?’ ‘Yea. Just not in the evening. Dinner with friends.’ ‘Care to go on a date with me?’ He said in smooth voice. I smiled through the phone. ‘I’d like that.’

And so it was Sunday morning. I had just got groceries for the dinner party when Henry showed up. I had left the door on a crack so he could let himself in. Which he did. ‘Honey! I’m home!’ He said happily. I grinned. ‘Kitchen’ I said. And there he was. With a box of fresh herbs in mediterranean pots. ‘For you.’ He said, kissing me sweetly. I snorted. ‘That is just the cutest. Thank you.’ I smiled giddily while putting the pots on my window sill, next to my other kitchen herbs. I turned around to kiss him, passionately. He wrapped me in his arms, then broke our kiss to add. ‘I hope you are in use of some relaxation, I ordered us a private spa session.’ ‘Oeh!’ I said, slightly impressed. ‘Never had that before.’ He grinned, then looked at me slyly. ‘I overheard you are however quite a good massagist yourself.’ ‘Gossip travels fast.’ He raised an eyebrow, shrugging. ‘I guess, confirmative. Yes, I gave one of the builders a massage the other day because he was groaning like a stifled old men. He was completely elated after, earning me quite a few requests from other colleagues.’ ‘Well, now someone will massage you.’ He kissed me, fetching my hand to tug me along.

We talked like we hadn’t seen each other in months, driving up to the spa. And laughed and laughed. I forgot about my week altogether. And the spa session was great. Relaxed. At some point painful. Then very good again. I felt stress flow out of my body like water retracting from shore. The more sad it was when it was over and we had to go. Driving back we were more quiet. Relaxed. But quiet. ‘Hmmm..that was absolutely divine.’ I hummed. ‘Thanks.’ ‘You are more than welcome.’ ‘So are you the cook tonight?’ ‘Yep. My friends can’t cook.’ ‘Lucky basterds.’ He said. I grinned. ‘And you, any plans for tonight?’ ‘Don’t know actually. Watch some baseball with Kal?’ He looked awkwardly, shrugging, keeping his gaze at the road. I looked at the route planner. We were near his house. ‘You know. We could pick up Kal and you could join me and my friends for dinner?’ He had to stop for a red light. Looked over at me. ‘You sure? …Not too soon?’ He asked playfully, though with an undertone of seriousness. ‘I’m sure. Besides you’ll gush over their nerdiness. We play D&D sessions and stuff.’ ‘My girlfriend is such a nerd!’ ‘I’m not your…girlfriend.’ I stated. He checked the map, then turned right, to get to his house. ‘Do you want to be?’ He said, looking up at me after having turned the corner. I felt my throat turn dry. ‘I..eh.’ He slowed down the car. It was a quiet street so other traffic was not irritated. He kept looking straight at me, while pressing the breaks. His gaze got soft. I took a breath. ‘I would like that.’ I finally said, smiling awkwardly. His face broke into a smile. He leaned over, catching a kiss. ‘Misses Cavill!’ He hummed. I poked him fiercely. ‘And definitely not that.’ He snorted cheekily, laughing a million dollar smile at me. He started the car again and drove up to his house.

Coming inside to pick up Kal, we made out like there was no tomorrow. I laughed and laughed, while he blistered me with kisses. Kal was jumping around us in excitement. Eventually Henry cupped my face and eased, just looking at me. ‘I love you.’ He breathed. I touched his hand with mine, looking at him dearly. ‘I will love you.’ He nodded, then pulled me in for a tight hug. ‘Okey, let’s fetch things. We need to get moving.’ He said, clapping his hands, play fighting with Kal while striding towards his bedroom. I snickered.

For dinner I made a Mexican taco feast with numerous toppings. And a lot of it too, these men all ate soo much. Not long after my friends arrived, with a game board, some bottles of wine and lots of smiles. I had moved the kitchen table to the living room where I had folded it open to its full extent, making it possible for 8 people to sit shoulder to shoulder. My friends were at first EXTREMELY awkward around Henry, making continuous Witcher and Superman jokes. But after a glass of wine, and seeing how relaxed and normal Henry was, the mood changed. Henry looked at me often. In love. I knew that look. And my friends saw it too. Giving me the oh-damn-girl-look. And we ate and ate. Laughing as we went along. I had just cleared out the table with one of my friends when I caught a conversation between one of my friends who’d had a serious crush on me for years, and Henry. ‘You know, I’d always figured she’d come around with some trump card. She’s way too pretty to be a nerd.’ ‘How so?’ Henry asked in honesty. ‘Look at us. We’re glad if ANY woman even looks at us, let alone like us. And there she was, not giving a shit. We even met her dutch friends. Equally nerdy. She isn’t even a fake.’ *some noise of mixed voices* And you play D&D?’ Henry’s voice asked. They all got excited and the conversation became more erratic - probably everyone was speaking of their characters.

’So…how in the hell did that happen?’ My friend Ben had followed me into the kitchen, now leaning against the kitchen top. ‘His dog Kal had escaped one morning and I happened to catch Kal before he could. And that’s how we met. I didn’t really think much of it, until he popped up next to me at the coffee bar at work. Again. And again. And again. I invited him for a hike. We hiked. I invited him for dinner. We dined. And… Now we’re here.’ ‘Girl. What the fuck.’ ‘I know right.’ I grinned. ‘Life’s weird.’ ‘Well, he IS as hot as we thought he was. Bloody hell.’ I smiled, pushing Ben back to the living room. The rest was still boasting about their D&D group. ‘Boys! Tea, coffee, liquor?’ Henry was snickering, seeing my friends’ faces light up with joy. ‘Oh we’ll do that fair lady! Do sit down.’ ‘Thank you.’ I nodded, taking a seat opposite of Henry. He gave me a knowing look accompanied with silent nod, then turned a big smile while Ben started asking questions about Kal, who had found a liking to Ben, sliming all over his lap.

My friends left around 11, after some more wine, a board game and lots of catching up. We scheduled a last D&D session before I would leave for Europe. ‘Better get out of that darn dungeon this session. We’ve been there for weeks man.’ I shrugged. ‘Let’s hope so.’ We all burst into laughter, hugging and saying goodbye. ‘You keep surprising me.’ Henry whispered in my ear, while I waved my friends goodbye atop the stairs. He waved as well, then quickly pulled me inside, closing the door. ‘Girlfriend.’ he said darkly, then kissed me passionately. ‘There’s so much you don’t know.. boyfriend.’ I said playfully, pinching his nose, then escaping his grasp to run to the bedroom. He chased me down, pinning me down on my bed, his breath hot in my neck.

His eager hands almost tore the zipper out of my dress while he unzipped it, wringing me out of the clingy fabric. I giggled at this, slightly tipsy from the wine. He grunted as he pulled the dress off completely. I wasn’t wearing any fancy lingerie, just some sports bra and simple knickers, and yet he looked at me like he saw the most gorgeous woman laying beneath him. I blushed as he climbed on top of me, letting his large hands roam over my almost naked body. ‘Hmmm.’ He hummed as he leaned forward, catching my lips with his. ‘Ready for a happy ending?’ He smiled against my lips. ‘Only if it’s a happy beginning.’ I sniffled. He laughed huskily, kissing me more passionately. ‘Can do.’ He said, while reaching his arm to my night stand. He grabbed a dusty box of condoms out of the drawer. ‘..Well there’s one of your secrets.’ He snickered, sitting up a bit to read the expiration date in the dim light. ‘This is over a year past its expiration.’ He stated, giving me an *oh you* look. I gasped in horror, shielding my face with my hands, letting out a giggle. A giggle that soon turned into pure laughter when Henry folded away my hands carefully, wiggling a condom in front of me. ‘Good thing I brought a backup.’ He smiled. And it was a good thing indeed.

Part 3 >

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #fluff #kal #henry cavill fanfic #fanfiction #smut #girlfriend #boyfriend #teafortwo

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cofffeeekinks · 4 years ago

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Katsune no Hanayome Ch. 5

Normally, y’all gotta wait till Friday, but today is labor day so you get a bonus chapter and I’ll post again on Friday as usual.

This is a commission multi-chapter fic, for @eggyboi13, who has been so patient with me in regards to how long I’ve been taking to get this out. I’m hoping to get a new chapter out every Friday.

AO3

If you want to show me your support, consider asking for a commission (only for art though) or leaving a tip in my ko-fi.

Katsune no Hanayome Chapter 4

Rated: Mature (18+)

Trans!Bakugou Trans!Todoroki Trans!Kirishima

Later chapters will contain things such as: s e x , lots of it. Heavily pregnant s e x.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

The trio, now in the middle of their month long pregnancy, often helped with clients when they could. Izuku’s clan often supplied potions for many of the different yokai in the spirit world and so they had many customers. They didn’t have to work, and Izuku actually advised against it. He didn’t want them to over do it and hurt themselves or their babies. However, all three boys couldn’t just sit around and eat all day, they had to do something and that meant help around the shop.

Most of the time yokai would ask for some sort of healing potion, or a good luck potion. A few have even asked for a sex potion, that of course would only work with willing partners. The yokai were friendly to the trio, congratulating them on their pregnancy and wishing them luck. After seeing many yokai throughout the day, they never expected to see anyone they recognized. And yet, here they were. They were staring at Iida and Shinsou at the other side of the counter.

But they were different, or at least Shinsou was.

Shinsou had a cute pair of cat ears perking from atop his head and a tail that wiggled about. He was also heavily pregnant, and from the looks of it he would probably be bedridden soon.

“Wh-what are you three doing here?” Iida asked, his voice shaken with surprise.

The three glanced at each other, unsure what to say but as usual Katsuki was the one to speak up first, “We got knocked up by a sexy fox so I guess we live here now, and from the looks of it, you kinda did the same?”

“Sort of.” Iida looked over at Shinsou.

Shinsou rolled his eyes, “Listen, just because I hung out with you all doesn’t mean I was a human.” he began to explain, “I was young, saw this handsome human and I knew I’d have to work to spirit him away.”

“Hey, that’s kinda cute.” Eijirou said with a smile, “Oh, maybe our babies will be friends?”

“Agreed.” Iida nodded.

“So, are you two here for some potion or something?” Shoto asked, getting impatient with the chit chat, “Like, why are you here?”

“Oh yes!” Iida answered, “We’d like some pain killers, for when he goes into labor.”

And with that awkward interaction, Iida and Shinsou departed.

Eventually though, as the days passed, it wouldn’t be so easy to move around and work at the front of the store. Katsuki was the first to drop from that position. Him being pregnant with a group of six kits, he quickly began to out grow robes of the largest size. Of course, it didn’t help that he was always being fed. And not just him, of course, Eijirou and Shoto were just about always stuffed with food as well. They had each gained at least 100 pounds in the course of their time pregnant, Katsuki a little more though. Katsuki was so fed up with nothing fitting, he opted to walk around naked. Why the hell not? He was pregnant and moody and nothing fit so he might as well just have this. It was a shock to the servants and when they asked, politely, “Please, why don’t you put some clothes on?”

Katsuki would respond with, “Fuck off.” or something similar.

Then, if Izuku caught him out and about without any clothes on, he’d whisk him away into another room and the two would bang each other for hours. But as fun as walking around in the nude is, Katsuki eventually became too big to move and was bedredden.

About four days into his bedrest, one of them who would no longer have to carry that giant belly around. The first one to go into labor was not Katsuki but rather a certain red haired gentleman who was carrying triplets. It was a surprise to the servants, who all had a betting pool with the majority of the participants betting toward Katsuki. He was the biggest out of the three, surely he’d be the first to pop, but no. It was Eijirou.

It happened late at night when a new sensation woke Eijirou up from his sleep.

“Did I just…” he spoke out loud as a wet liquid began to trickle down his legs and over toward Izuku.

Eijirou watched as the liquid spread over toward Izuku. It barely had to touch the tip of his finger for him to wake up. He opened his eyes and looked over at Eijirou staring back at him.

“I’m sorry, I think I peed.”

Izuku sat up, the smell of the liquid hitting him and alerting him that no, no this was not pee, “Eijirou, your water broke.” he announced with urgency.

“My water broker but --,” he was then hit by a sudden and powerful contraction, causing him to let out a little yelp.

Izuku quickly left to fetch a potion for Eijirou, it was supposed to numb the pain of childbirth but childbirth demands to be felt and not everything was numb.

“This is fucking bull shit, Izuku!” he screamed, his qurik activating and resulting in the bed boards breaking.

Katsuki and Shoto watched on in slight horror.

“I’m never doing this shit for you ever again!” Eijirou screamed, “No one is because as soon as I’m done pushing these babies out, I’m ripping your dick off!”

“Please dont…”

“Eijirou, please focus.” the midwife tried to redirect his attention, “This one is ready to come out, now I need you too --.”

Eijirou then bore down and pushed the first of Izuku’s children out. Ren slid out of Eijirou, screaming and crying. He was a big infant and was very much excited to be alive.

Everyone instantly fell in love with him, the midwife cleaned him up and passed him to Izuku who held him to his neck, scenting him. Ren was passed around to Shoto and Katsuki as well. They, unknowingly washed their scent on the baby.

The next baby to come into the world was Aiko, and only half an hour later, the first girl, Sakura was born. All of the newborns were scented, swaddled, and would be cared for.

Katsuki was the next of the trio to give birth, to which he was both relieved and horrified because yay, finally but then oh my gosh I’m scared. So, since they knew the remainder of the babies would arrive soon, Katsuki, Shoto, and Izuku decided to have some sexy fun. Eijirou sat out, he was still healing and exhausted from the birth of his triplets. Instead he spent the remainder of the night snoozing or tending to the needs of his little newborns.

During their sexual escapade, Katasuki’s bliss turned into pain the moment he felt a pop along with water gushing out of him and onto Izuku’s dick.

“Shit.” he swore.

Izuku and the servants helped clean up the mess, while Katsuki was prepared for birth. The painkilling potion didn’t work as well as Katsuki wanted and as the pain of childbirth branched out from his spine he began to sob.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” he breathed, then screamed as a ripping contraction tore through him.

“It’ll be okay.” the midwife soothed, “You’ll see your little ones soon, I just need you to breathe through the pain and push as hard as you can.”

Katsuki nodded, he squeezed Izuku’s and Shoto’s hands as he pushed with all he had. Haru and Maru were born only 30 seconds apart, to which the midwife said, “You don’t want to keep going so quickly, at this rate, you’ll rip.”

Ten minutes of agony later, Katsuki was tired of keeping an easy pace and he pushed out Tobi. Then Hana and Kana were born only two minutes away from each other. By the time there was only one baby left, Katsuki was exhausted. It took him forty five minutes to push out the smallest of his litter, Kiki.

With a smile, Katsuki stared at his little babies with awe. They wiggled and cried, and to his surprise Katsuki couldn’t wait to have more. That was his final thought before passing out a seconds later from exhaustion. He spent the entire next day sleeping, and no one disturbed him.

Shoto was the last to give birth, and he was overdue when he finally asked Izuku to have the midwife induce him and she did. Katsuki and Eijirou were there with him, they had known he had been a little fragile during his time being pregnant and knew he needed all the support they could provide. They were at his sides, each holding a hand. Izuku took position next to the midwife to aid in this birth.

Izuku’s instinct to assist the midwife was right. The first of Shoto’s litter would cause complications.

“It’s --I can feel the first one comming down…” Shoto stammered.

“Slow down.” the midwife advised, then stated, “This is going to be a breech birth. The legs are coming out first, Mr. Midoriya, I need you to put your hands here and --”

Shoto screamed, he was starting to feel a burning sensation leaking from his pelvis and radiating upward. It was getting hard to breathe. Katsuki turned and kissed him on the forehead, Eijirou whispered, “Hey, you can do this. Breech or not, you can get this baby out.”

“I can’t do this!” Shoto shouted, “Stop, stop stop! Make it stop!! It hurts, please I can’t--,”

Shoto was ripping. He could feel himself tearing.

“Now, I need you to push hard!” the midwife ordered, “We have to get the head out, now. Okay, push push push!”

Shoto wasn’t even sure he was pushing at this point, it was all so painful. His vision was blurring as he looked down and noticed the midwife and Izuku handling a very quiet and limp infant.

“What, what’s wrong...?” Shoto asked, breathing hard and seeing black splotches.

He overheard the midwife say something about ‘...not breathing…’

“Is she okay?” Shoto asked, “Why isn’t she crying?”

Katsuki and Eijiro both reassured him that everything would be fine and indeed it was because a few seconds later, little Sachi began to cry and with a smile Shoto passed out. Shoto was only knocked out for a few minutes before it was time to resume the rest of his labor. Which was easy and not as painful as the first. Mari, Touka, and Touya were all a breeze to push out.

Afterwards, Shoto ended up having to be bedridden for the next month to allow himself to heal.

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salamanderskin · 5 years ago

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Sunshine (a M0llym4uk sickfic)

This is something of a gift for @just-a-nervous-bean for their wonderful artwork of Mollymauk, which can be found here and here Spellings stolen from the ever-talented @dodecahedral ‘s fic here because I couldn’t get them out of my head.

Modern AU where Molly is in the circus and Caleb is researching at the University, they are in a new-ish relationship together. No need to know the chars really. They’re soft boyfriends and Molly is miserable when he’s sick. That’s all.

Mollymauk is, predictably, late.

Caleb Widogast expects this. That’s why he planned a date for the cafe in the museum where he is working anyway, a place he is always happy to sit and read. The cafe is a pleasant break after the dusty hush of the archives; huge windows let in what is left of the wintery daylight from outside, illuminating the white walls and low, modern furniture. There is space for Caleb’s laptop and a stack of books beside his coffee cup. If he had his boyfriend and his cat here, the scene would be perfect-

That’s when Mollymauk arrives. The museum attracts members of enough different species that his being a tiefling with curled horns is not unusual. What draws attention is his artistic attire; He is wearing that ridiculous coat which doesn’t fasten high enough, a shirt cut in a deep v-neck to show tattooed flesh and a roguish grin. Flurries of snow have settled in his hair and he shakes his head like a dog before coming to sit beside Caleb.

“Hallo, looks like you got caught in the snow.” Caleb rises to hug his boyfriend and kiss him on his cheek.The tiefling’s lavender skin is ice-cold under his lips.

“Little bit.” Mollymauk sniffs and shivers as he sheds his coat, prompting Caleb to pass him a handful of napkins which he uses to first dry his face and then blow his nose. As he does so, Caleb gathers up his papers into his backpack and readies himself for a jaunt around the museum before closing time.

It is lovely just to spend time together, to talk and question and wonder about the exhibits. This thing between them is still so new; he is still learning Molly’s tastes and interests and delightfully surprised by the tiefling’s breadth of knowledge. Caleb enjoys hearing Molly name plants and animals or the types of dye used in textiles, notices Molly light up for a particular colour or design. He also notices Molly sounds sniffly.

If any other person in the world was sniffling like that around Caleb, he would be shooting them a look fierce enough to kill a man while wishing to die himself. When it’s Molly, he doesn’t like it, but it doesn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. This must be love.

He watches Molly from the other end of the gallery. The tiefling is more colourful and appealing than the oil paintings he stands in front of. Not just his flamboyantly colourful trousers or the glitter of jewellery on his horns and the tattoos on his skin, but the lithe grace of his movements. Mollymauk tilts his head like a peacock to examine a detail, his slender fingers clenching with desire for the rough surface he has been firmly told not to touch. Framed by dun-coloured still-lifes, Molly is vibrantly animated, enchantingly alive; never more so than when he sneezes so suddenly that it causes him to stumble.

“--aah'YZSSHH-iew!!”

The sound is sharp enough to spark aggressive echoes from the high ceiling and make several patrons, including Caleb himself, jump and turn their heads.

“Sorry!” Molly stage-whispers and swipes a thumb under his nose with another wet sniffle.

Caleb feels a burst of amusement at how each sneeze makes Molly’s tail lash wildly, putting a few fragile exhibits in danger. It happens a few times while they are hidden in the low light of the illuminated manuscripts that hold particular interest for Caleb, and again between the cases of iridescent butterflies whose colours make Molly clutch his heart and plan a dozen more tattoos. Caleb is resting against Molly’s arm for that last one, so he feels the tiefling yank himself away and stagger double. His hands don’t quite make it to his face and so clench helplessly in the air. He looks quite undone by the force of it and it takes him a minute to sniffle himself back to composure.

“Gesundheit!” Caleb tucks a hand round Molly’s waist for an affectionate squeeze. “You sound like you’re catching a cold?”

“Pffff.” Molly spreads his hands in a shrug,seeming to take in his lavender skin, his extravagant clothing and the sheer assuredness of his stance, as if he is too fabulous to possibly get sick.

So Caleb puts it out of his mind.

……………………..

Caleb’s phone buzzes him awake on Saturday morning.

It’s the weekend, no archive for him today and no shifts at the University Library either. A rare free day. Caleb stretches his legs and hears a questioning -mrrp- from the cat at the end of his bed. He needs coffee and he needs to pee, but he could pretend he doesn’t and stay under the covers for at least another half an hour. That sounds really good.

His phone buzzes again.

M.T -- You free today? Come over?

Caleb -- Thought you had rehearsal?

In fact Caleb was certain. He has an infallible memory for details like this, even more so when they concern his access to a delightfully attractive partner like Mollymauk.

M.T-- Cancelled. Yasha is away all wknd im lonely :(:(

Cancelling is unusual but stranger things have happened. This is a lovely surprise. He takes a moment to recalibrate his idea of the day and then rises from bed. Frumpkin follows, winding dangerously between his ankles. A glance out of the window reveals more flurrying snow but it will be no match for his old overcoat, his heaviest boots and thick scarf. His own roommate, Nott, is out at work, but he leaves the heating on for Frumpkin and heads out into the wilds.

“Hello darling!” Molly gives him a big smile when he opens the door, but doesn’t swoop in and kiss him, which is unusual.

The heating is cranked up high, which is unusual too.

He follows Molly up the stairs to their first floor apartment. This is still relatively new territory to Caleb, but welcoming. His boyfriend’s housemate Yasha, often absent, has filled all available window sills with houseplants to which Molly has added candles, crystals and new-age nicknacks of all stripes. It smells faintly of weed, sage and cooking. Molly ushers him into the living room where there is one unusual addition- what he knows to be Molly’s duvet is draped over the sofa in front of an open laptop showing a paused TV show.

“Can I get you a glass of water, tea, gin, milk, prosecco or anything else?” Molly suggests. His voice sounds wrecked and thick.

“Whatever you’re having. Molly are--” Caleb tries to get a closer look at him but he darts to the kitchen and putters almost aggressively with the kettle.

“Schatz,you sound-” He tries again.

“Tea, then. Lemon-ginger, redbush, green, green with passionfruit, chai or normal?”

“No preference.” Caleb actually has to put a hand on the tiefling’s back to calm his businesslike cheerfulness. “Come here-” He manages to get a grip on Molly’s shoulder and through leverage more than strength is able to turn the tiefling to face him. Molly is a good two inches taller, not counting his horns, but he slouches obligingly against the counter to put them face to face. Locks of his silken hair fall over his down-turned brow and Caleb pushes them behind his ear with a practiced, tender touch.

“What’s the matter, hm? You’re being a little… erratic.”

“And I’m usually so predictable. Boring, even.” His boyfriend laughs, showing sharp white eyeteeth.

There it is again, though, that rasp on his voice. It sounds like it hurts him to talk. And something else, too. Thick violet lashes flutter and his ruby eyes squint closed as Molly shifts to soft, panting breaths through his mouth. Caleb is caught as off-guard when the tiefling shoves him gently to one side and sneezes hard.

"Heh-IZSSCHH--iew!

It knocks him double, hands cringing weakly towards his face but not reaching in time to make any kind of cover. Before Caleb can comment, Molly takes a shaky step back and sneezes again and then a third time, retreating away towards the back wall and punctuating each with a heartfelt, “Fuck.” “Gesundheit.” Caleb offers. Molly straightens and gives him a cringing, apologetic look. His eyes are watering something fierce and Caleb thinks he can see how ticklish his nose is, even from five feet away. The poor thing is blushed to a deep violet and he can see his nostrils flaring uncertainty. Molly hovers his hands tentatively in front of his face for a moment… lowers them… raises them quickly and draws a ragged “aaah-” before - “YZSSHH-iew!! Fuck.”

Caleb doesn’t quite know how to react and defaults to standing still, hands clenched uselessly at his side and desperately wishing he had his cat to keep them busy. “Hold on... “ Molly groans and scrambles out of the room with his hands still cupped guiltily over his face. Caleb tracks the sound of feet along the corridor of the bathroom. A door slam, toilet paper yanked from the roll and a thick nose blow followed by running water. Little husking coughs and soft thumps like Molly tapping is on his chest with a fist to ease it. So that explains the weirdness. Mollymauk sounds miserably sick. That’s all. That’s good, on the scale of things. That Caleb can deal with.

He finishes preparing the tea as he waits for his boyfriend to return, carries both cups to the sofa and makes himself comfortable.

When Mollymauk returns he has added a hoodie over his outfit and is carrying a half-empty toilet roll in one hand.

“You did catch a cold.” Caleb manages to make it a comfort and a question and an accusation all in one.

Under the force of his voice, Molly raises his hands in defeat and retreats to sit on the sofa beside Caleb, then collapses into a full-body slump with his head tilted against the cushions and his eyes closed, as though if he can’t see his boyfriend then he can’t be seen either.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He mumbles.

“Whatever for?”

The tiefling rolls his face away and buries his face into the sofa cushions with a pitiful little cough. “Not warning you I was sick before you came over. And I kissed you yesterday even though my throat was getting sore. I just- really wanted to see you today, so I thought I could just not tell you. You can go now.”

Caleb actually laughs. Molly can be so melodramatic when he wants to be. He scoots closer to the miserable hunch of tiefling and places an affectionate hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles through the thick sweater. Molly begins to uncurl, uncertainly, an exotic flower inching towards the warmth of the human’s gaze.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to come over?” Caleb queries.

Molly shrugs. “I’m disgusting. And you’re-” A handwave at Caleb’s physical form,

“I am a fragile waif of a wizard who could be knocked over by a stiff breeze. What is your point?”

“If I get you sick you’ll get behind on your research paper. I know you can’t afford not to work right now and I-” he swallows in exaggerated dread as he reaches the crux of argument. “-aaaand Nott will kill me.”

They both share a moment to imagine Caleb’s roommate and best friend coming after Molly like a feral whirlwind.

“Okay, so that is a fair point.” Caleb concedes. “Nott doesn’t have to know. The rest, however, is nonsense. Now look at me, schatz, and let me see how you’re doing.”

He dips a hand to Molly’s chin and tilts his head to get a better view. Molly does look pale, which given his exotic lavender colouring means that his cheeks are more of a washed-out lilac, in contrast to a darker blush where he has been scrubbing at his poor nose. There is a general, unwell cast to his features and a thick, congested sound to his breathing. Caleb doesn’t find it disgusting at all, if anything it makes him feel soft and fond. He plants a kiss to the tiefling’s forehead and reaches to the side of his neck to feel for his glands.

“Owww…” Mollymauk whines, predictably, and tries to duck away.

“Sore, then?” Caleb notes. “How’s your throat?”

“Sore as well.” Molly snuffles thickly then turns and blows his nose into some more toilet tissue.

“Poor sweetheart, you got it bad, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” He says meekly.

A soft, pathetic snuffle and Mollymauk finally gives up on keeping any space between them. He snuggles up into Caleb’s arms and lays his head shamelessly against his boyfriend’s shoulder, nestling in for warmth. His tail slips between their nested calves, anchoring them.

“Have you had any medicine?” Caleb asks.

Molly nods. “I had some, but it didn’t seem to be working so I had some more…” He shrugs in the direction of a bottle and a sticky teaspoon on the sideboard.

“Okay, that’s good. No wonder you were a little loopy when I came in. Why don’t you drink your tea while it’s hot?”

They both sip tea in silence for a few minutes. Molly draws his duvet up over them both and tugs it up to his chin. The moment is interrupted by a few quick panting breaths and a chaotic- “ --aah'YZSSHH-iew!” of a sneeze that thrusts him forward, whole body shuddering.

He straightens groggily, as though it took a lot of him. “So no romantic outing today?”

“Absolutely not. Only romantic couch cuddles and possibly you having a nap. Do you think you could sleep for a bit?”

“Not if I keep- keep --'YZZSSChieww! Fuck.”

“Gesundheit!”

Molly keeps his head down and groans.

“So. Sleep, yes?” Caleb tries to be businesslike, which is difficult with a ridiculously purple and obviously miserable tiefling moping beside him. “Do you feel like going back to bed or staying here on the couch?”

Molly considers, head tilted. “I can’t just go to bed in the middle of the day?”

“Of course you can, you do it all the time. You are the queen of naps.”

Molly wavers, sniff-sniffing damply and shivering where he sits.

Caleb stands and offers both hands to haul him to his feet, as if his slight frame could be any actual assistance to his more athletic partner.

“Come, schatz, let me take you to bed. You can have a nap or watch TV and I will sit beside you and read, then make you something nice and hot for lunch. Yes?”

Molly accepts the symbolic gesture and follows him meekly up the stairs. He pauses on the threshold with a look of sudden dread-

“My room is-”

Too late, Caleb has opened the door. Molly’s room looks as though the wardrobe department of his entire circus troupe has exploded out of the closet, where it is mixed with empty cans, bags, shoes and new-age nonsense. Caleb, who has never had enough possessions to cover the floor of a room, just rolls his eyes, more impressed than offended. The overall effect is not unwelcoming; the air is scented with musky nagchampa and the light through the fabric and fairy-lights pinned over the window is diffuse and gentle. Endearingly, there is a distinct, Mollymauk sized dip in the centre of the mattress. Extra blankets and pillows are arranged to make a nest.

“I don’t mind. It smells nice.”

“Thagks. I feel so accepted.” Molly jokes but his partner just nods.

“You should. I told you I do not mind if you are a little messy around the edges. Everyone is, if you look close enough. Now, lie down.”

In a few moments they have retrieved the duvet from downstairs and settled beside each other on the bed with Molly’s horned head cradled carefully in his human’s lap. They have enough practice at this that Caleb can pet his back with one hand while reading his book with the other. It’s not as easy as it could be, however, because Molly keeps shifting and sniffling and scrubbing his nose itchily against Caleb’s upper thigh.

“That is a little distracting, love, is that the effect you intended?” Caleb can’t keep the warmth out of his voice.

Disappointingly, Molly shakes his head. “Not really, sorry. Ugh, I feel s- -s-ohh- fuck- ” his voice cracks and wavers up the octave. He clearly needs to sneeze again, badly. His expression is congested and miserable, too overwhelmed by the sensation to talk.

“Sneezy?” Caleb suggests.

Molly nods, shakes his head like a dog with water in it’s ears, gives an unhappy little groan. The irritation is obvious in the hazy cast of his eyes, the uncertain waver to the corner of his lip.

“So sneezy.” Caleb teases, fondly. “Look like you caught this cold right in your nose.”

He reaches to give the offending organ a gentle pet, fingertips tweaking the fine purple tip. Molly responds with an almost comically deep inhale and a wounded look before executing a declarative sneeze over the side of the bed.

"... --aah'YZSSHH-iew!

“Gesundh-”

“ah-YIIZSSHHww!”

Caleb’s book is long abandoned by this point. His attention is fully commanded by his beloved tiefling who is trapped in a seemingly unbreakable cycle of chest-swelling gasp-- head tilt back-- hard punctuating sneeze into his steepled hands-- swear- -gasp again.

It does wind down eventually, following a few particularly vicious, three-syllable-

“ahh- IIZSSCHH-iEW!”

“Fuck… tired…” He finishes.

“Impressive. Poor liebling.” Caleb sighs and hands him a pack of tissues from his own pocket. “I’ve never seen you like this..”

Mollymauk shugs. “I don’t often get sick, it’s the-” a gesture that takes in all his inhuman glory. “Thank fuck. Guess I’m making up for it. I feel like balls.”

“I am not surprised.” Caleb waits until Molly has blown his nose to the best of his ability, then scoots closer again. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing… I’m just going to have a crappy weekend…” Molly sighs dramatically, running his hands through his hair. “When I said practice was cancelled, I cancelled on them cause I felt too rough. I’m going to get so behind on learning my new act…”

“Stop whining, it doesn’t suit you.” Caleb shakes his head, reaching to settle the teifling’s curls back into place where he has mussed them up. “Shan’t.” Oh yes, he’d forgotten that Molly is a brat.

“Then maybe I should go and leave you to your misery?” Caleb makes as though to rise, but predictably as clockwork his partner gives a whimper of loss and reaches for him.

“No- stay with me-?” His ruby eyes are big and pleading, tears actually beginning to rise. Gods, Molly feels completely pathetic right now. Luckily, Caleb cannot resist him even like this and gives in at once, his point made.

“Ah, very well, but I will have no more whimpering. I know you feel very poorly, schatz, but just let me help you.” “Okay.” Molly snuffles into his sleeve and nods.

“First I think you could have some more tea, and we could even put a shot of whiskey in it. Then I really want you to try and sleep. What if I don’t even read? You could have my full attention, yes?” He sweetens the command with a tender hand rubbing over his boyfriend’s temples and down the sides of his nose. Molly softens at once, practically purring.

In no time at all they are rearranged on the bed with a steaming cup of tea. Caleb leans up against the headboard and spreads his legs, tapping his chest to indicate that Molly should settle between them. It takes a little shuffling to settle the tiefing’s horned head against his chest, but he feels Molly relax into the embrace at once.

His partner is a soothing weight, anchoring him in the present as Molly always does.

He finds he does not mind the snuffly breaths and little coughs smothered against his chest; the intimacy of the moment is more than worth it.

“This is nice.”

“See, if your head is elevated, you won’t have so much congestion when you sleep.” He explains.

“That’s really smart,” the tiefling murmurs sleepily. “I always said you were a genius.”

A moment of calm. The winter sun comes out from behind the clouds and a ray of light slips through a gap in the hangings to drape over the bed. The crystals on the windowsill dance with minute rainbows. He feels Molly smile. “Sunshine.” He says sleepily.

“That’s me.” Caleb agrees. “Just rest, Mollymauk. I’ve got you.”

And he does, he does. Even with Molly like this, it’s better than books and museum dates and circus shows. It is better than anything Caleb can think of.

#sickfic #sneezefic #I literally never write just a normal modern setting #so that was kind of fun #Molly is a drama queen

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