#I’ve been told that wearing layers of fabric could keep you from the cold and the heat

[thepreciouspurrsian]

Just a quick sketch as usual… I was wondering how Basim would look with Loki’s iconic helmet. It suits him, right?

[bucketsofmonsters]

I was wondering, in Proper Etiquette (my favourite of your writings) Reader is wearing dresses and corsets all the time (which is Wonderful and corsets are Not Evil Actually they're literally a bra that supports the weight of heavy layers of skirts BUT I DIGRESS) but how would Rygel react to his wife, feeling a little cold as fall comes along, asks to have a sweater like he's wearing and some warm pants or a wool skirt and petticoat to wear with the sweater, rather than her usual fine clothes that clearly aren't built for the weather in her new home

You’re so real for the corset thing, I will defend corsets until the day I die. Also sorry this took me forever

Rygel ran hot. You were well aware of that fact by now. Every time you pressed up against him he radiated heat, more than any person you’d ever been near, although to be fair you didn’t have much of a frame of reference. 

What had taken a bit longer was realizing they all did. 

When you’d first arrived it had been summer, a little colder than the summers you were accustomed to, but nothing too severe. 

But then winter had come, and with it, something unfamiliar to you. With it came the snow. 

It was a perfect coincidence for them because while they seemed largely comfortable in the cold of your new home, you were not. You were instead accustomed to a little rain in the winter, maybe some cold winds, but nothing an extra layer or two couldn’t combat. 

This was far from that. At first, the snow had been delightful. You’d only ever heard stories and caught glimpses of it on the peaks of faraway mountains, but here it was all around you. 

As the novelty faded, it became a bit more of a problem. 

You tried what you’d always done, adding layers and bundling up, but you just didn’t have enough. Nothing you had was built for this kind of cold and it wasn’t like you could borrow clothes from someone, you’d drown in the sheer amount of fabric.

So instead you stood, bundled under layers that were helpless against the biting cold. You’d barely been outside for a few minutes before you’d rushed back into the warmth of your room but the cold had settled in your bones and couldn’t be snuffed out so easily. 

Your jaw was clenched to stop your teeth from chattering, your whole body wound tight, trying to preserve what little heat you had. 

“I’m not built for this,” you said with a huff as you collapsed backward onto your bed, wrapping yourself in blankets. 

Rygel huffed out a laugh from his desk, his attention still focused on whatever he was reading. “Not built for what?”

“Winter. Not here at least. I think I might go into hibernation.”

He froze, eyes widening before he turned to you. “Oh my god, you’re cold. Of course you are, I should’ve prepared for this.”

You cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve been keeping inside as much as I can, the layers have been helping, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He did not seem convinced. “We don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. Hell, we don’t have warm enough clothes anyway. Shit. You should’ve told me.” His words were dripping with concern as the full implications of his mistake hit him. 

“Rygel,” you said, trying to cut through the worry and reassure him. “I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I can stay inside for a season, god knows there’s more than enough fires and blankets in this place to keep me warm.”

“I should have realized. I forget how fragile your kind are, I should have seen this coming, gotten you some real clothes. As much as I love those dresses, we have to get you in some furs. ”

 “We are not fragile, you are just all far too sturdy. And besides, I like my dresses.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively with a smile. “Sure we are. I really should have been more careful with you though. Your safety is more important than anything. I will keep you warm if it’s the last thing I do, even if we do have to cover up those pretty little dresses. Now, how will I ever manage to keep you warm until we can get you some better-suited clothes?”

You climbed onto his lap, ducking underneath his shirt, and pressed up close to him, absorbing his heat as you felt a chuckle run through his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t get you warm clothes,” he said as a steady arm wrapped around you. “I think I prefer this.”

You hummed in agreement. “Plus it’s very dignified.”

His hand scooped under you, lifting you while keeping you close to him. “Very.”

You happily nuzzled further into his chest and he returned to his work, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. You were sure he’d find something for you, get you warmer clothes and make sure you were safe and warm and happy. His concern more than convinced you of that. 

And when all else failed, at least your husband ran hot.

[goldencherryhazz]

Touch

A/N: I went a little wild with this one, it a little messy but I hope you enjoy. Notes would be much appreciated, pls don’t copy my work! And as you can see I couldn’t think of a title lol.

Warnings: smut, masterbation, degradation, daddy kink, squirting, pure filth!

You know Harry didn’t like it when you played with yourself, the only acceptation he would make was when he was on tour but even then he would get you to FaceTime him so he could watch and guide you so that you would have the best orgasm, he always wanted to control your pleasure and to be fair any appendage of his body was ten times more pleasurable than your own. His fingers were longer and thicker and reached spots you didn’t even know existed, his tongue did wonders and flicked your bud just the right way, his cock was a whole other story you could only describe it as magical and you would never argue against that.

In your defence you knew that Harry recording vocals for his album this week and he was tired from countless late nights at work, he would always be frustrated with himself if he didn’t get a note for a song pitch perfect, and then he would just get mad at himself trying it over and over again but still not happy with it, then Jeff and the team would force him to go home after a while in fear that he would wear his voice out and have to go on vocal rest and the fact that he was probably going to burst from his pent up anger, and when he got back home he would just want to cuddle and go to sleep so you thought you would take care of yourself before he got back.

Once he did get home he had calmed down slightly, driving always seemed to calm him down for some strange reason. He got inside aiming to go straight to bed where he thought you would be, but when he goes past the bathroom he heard a small whimper, he had to do a double take at first but when the same sound comes from you again he was ready to burst through the door but decided to wait a few minutes to let you have your fun, because after this you wouldn’t be cumming for days.

Your moans start to get a little louder through the door and when he hears a loud shout of his name, well the preferred name you always called him when it came to doing anything sexual (‘daddy’) he burst through the door knowing you were probably about to cum, to find you sat on the edge of the bathtub fingers buried deep inside your head thrown back, which slowly lifted up in shock. You hadn’t even heard him come in the house, you thought you would of had plenty of time but you had obviously lost track being so lost in pleasure. The stern look on his face told you that you were in deep shit, so you opt to remove your fingers from your pussy and put both hands in your lap.

‘Well what do we have here baby’ he saunters in coming to stand right over you from your perch on the bathtub, he immediately noticing the pool of your juices on the floor.

‘Harry I didn’t’ you started before he made eye contact, the fury in his eyes was enough to shut you up.

‘First of all it’s daddy to you, and secondly how many times did you cum?’

‘Sorry daddy, I came twice’

‘hmm twice to many baby don’t you think, I see you squirted aswell didn’t you’

‘Yes d-daddy’ his eyes boar into yours and you couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated.

‘You know daddy doesn’t like it when someone else touches his pretty little peach don’t you’

You nod, ‘my pussy belongs to you daddy, I’m sorry for touching myself’ you say quickly knowing that any excuse you had as to why you were playing with yourself wouldn’t work.

‘Hmm, now that’s what I like to hear’ he couldn’t help but get slightly hard at that but he quickly thinks about something else to not give you the satisfaction.

He averts his eyes to the floor quickly taking in the pool of your clear juices once again, a cynical smirk overtakes his features which instantly made you panic knowing he had something brewing up in that head of his.

He looks back at you ‘I want you to clean up your mess for me’ he says reaching his hand up to your jaw his thumb resting heavy in your bottom lip making it snap back when he released it again, ‘don’t want you to use a towel or anything like that, want you to use that pretty little mouth of yours, do you think you can do that? He asks even though you didn’t really have a choice.

‘Yes daddy’ you comply getting down on you knees still only wearing a t-shirt, hissing as the cold tiles make contact with your bare legs. You lower your head so your nose is just above your juices your hair falling onto the floor which is quickly resolved when Harry crouches down beside your form and grabs it and makes it into a makeshift pony tail at the back of your head before lowering you head down practically pressing you face into the wetness almost a signal to start cleaning up.

You lips start smacking against the tiled floors, the slurping sounded quite disgusting and made the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but you knew he wouldn’t let you out of the bathroom till you had licked up every last drop.

‘Such a filthy fucking whore aren’t ya, doing anything daddy says’

Your hair being yanked slightly at every word to accentuate his statement as you hum again the floor, not being to come out with a proper respond without it being muffled.

Once Harry sees you are done he pulls your head up by your hair so that you are sat on in your calves, your chin slightly wet, your eyes had this fucked out look in them from being that submissive for him. He kissed you on the lips for the first time since he caught you, dipping his tongue into your mouth to have a taste, the kiss ends just as quick as it started just as you were starting to enjoy having his lips on yours, he runs a finger along your chin collecting the remainder of your juices and then dipping it into his mouth before moving to stand up.

‘C’mon come to bed where you can dream about cumming, cause if you think I’m touching you for the next week you can think again, you’ve been a very bad girl’

Before you even got the chance to get up off the floor he was already walking to the bedroom, he was angry from earlier and you had just added fuel to the fire and he had contained it very well if he said so himself. At the same time he couldn’t keep the small smirk off of his face, cause he was definitely going to have fun with you.

//////

Fast forward 3 days and your clit was throbbing and in desperate need of a release. To make it even worse Harry had had a few days off so the teasing was constant, he walked around the house in little to no clothes, made sure to leave the bathroom door slightly open to make sure you heard his moans when he jerked himself off in the shower almost loud enough that you would hear even from the living room. The way he would spoon you when you were cuddling or in bed, he would shuffle around and press his cock right between your ass cheeks so that you felt him even through layers of clothes.

The sexual deprivation was driving you insane to say the least. You were currently in bed reading a book Harry doing the same, well you were reading that was until you caught the sight of your boyfriend, before he was sat with his legs straight out infront of him but being the fidget-bum his is he had now moved his knees towards his chest and spread them slightly his feet planted on the bed. The fabric of his shorts tightened over the area between his legs, outlining his cock and balls perfectly, his thighs looking deliciously thick, the muscles of his tattooed arm flexed as he flicked through the pages of his book, the shirt he was wearing was practically skin tight making you ogle his figure at the head of the bed, from you spot on your belly further.

You don’t realise your shifting your legs together as you watch him, your panties now getting undeniably wet, trying to relieve some of the ever building pressure, the movement catching Harry’s attention.

‘What are you doing darling’ he looks at you knowingly.

‘Nothing’ stopping the movement of your legs, shying away from his gaze, staring at the words on the page you were currently on but not actually reading them.

‘Staring at me weren’t you, rubbing those soft little legs together’

‘Can’t help it, you look really good sat like that’ she says innocently.

‘What about a the rest of the time, do I not look good then’

‘Course you look good, it’s just- I can see the outline of you cock really good from here, making me soo wet, pretty sure I’ve ruined these panties by now.’

Well to bad baby, shouldn’t have been a bad girl the other day’ he retorts going back to reading planning on ignoring her desperate pleas.

‘Pretty please daddy, will you touch me’ making him huff and look back up at you, getting a little frustrated.

‘Oh it’s daddy now is it, you have your own fingers don’t you baby?’

‘But it’s not the same as when you do it’ she also knew that if she did touch herself again it would only prolong her punishment, but at this moment in time you was close to loosing it with how horny you were.

‘Well that didn’t stop you the other day did it’ he points out.

You whine ‘no baby don’t you get all bratty with me, I could’ve had you over my knee spanking your ass right now, would’ve made you feel it for days, but I bet you would have loved that though, cause you’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you’

‘Answer me, are you a filthy girl?’

‘Yes daddy I am’

‘Good now we have that established I am going to carry on reading, and I suggest you stop speaking before I have you over my knee, is that clear baby girl’

‘Yes daddy’ you say submissively doing as he said.

20 minutes had passed when an idea popped into your head, you had been warned not to talk and you knew the consequences but your mouth was moving before you had time to process it.

‘Daddy can we touch ourselves together, I-I mean like masterbate together’ you explain even though Harry already knew what you meant.

He looked at you in annoyance, but in his head he was absolutely pining at your suggestion. Getting to watch you touch yourself all spread out for him, and him doing the same. The past few days had also been torture for him too, he tried to replicate your touch when the was running his hand up and down his cock in the shower, but it wasn’t even close to the way your soft hands would stroke him, he had to resist pounding into you multiple times from just watching you do daily tasks, yesterday you were bending over the dining-room table to reach the vase of now dead flowers to put a new bunch in, you were wearing leggings so when you bent over he got a perfect view off your ass, he really wanted keep you bent over it as he pounded you into the table, he had to take himself to the small gym he had set up in the basement to calm himself down.

He closed his eyes and let out a angry sigh. He hated how much he was caving right now. He was adamant he wasn’t going to let you cum for the next week but your suggestion was too hard to resist. So if he wasn’t touching you he would still be carrying through with his punishment. Right?

He hadn’t said a single word yet, and you were almost certain he was going to say no, but when he marked the page he was on in his book and threw it down into the bed it brought a flicker of hope within you.

‘C’mere’ he murmured, making you scramble up the bed kneeling between his spread legs.

He cups your cheek ‘you were a bad girl the other night, made daddy upset. Didn’t think I was good enough, that I couldn’t satisfy you’

‘Daddy you always satisfy me, make me cum so fucking hard, no ones ever touched or fucked me the way you do’ you say truthfully.

‘And who do you belong to’

‘You daddy, always been you’ this tips him over the edge his cock hardening making a tent in his shorts.

‘That’s a good girl, now I’m going to let you cum, but on one condition, we don’t touch each other whatsoever, still gotta keep up with your punishment even if you did say all those nice things to daddy’

‘Okay, thankyou daddy’ a wave of relief washes over you, itching to just get on with it now.

‘Strip for me then’ you immediately start shuffling out of your clothes as if he had read your mind.

He does the same, moving to the middle of the headboard so that there would be more room, once you are finally naked and turn your head towards Harry again you gawk at him, he looked soo hot with his legs spread, his pretty cock hard up against his belly, he looked delicious. You catch yourself staring, quickly snapping out of it, moving to sit across from Harry replicating his position only being inches away from his form, your juices had made your pussy nice and slick practically glistening.

‘God you’re so wet haven’t even touched you, shit you’re such a filthy little slut’ he groaned, desperately wanting to reach out and run his fingers through your folds to get a taste.

‘Open’ he instructs quickly placing his fingers onto your mouth.

You were about to say something about the no touching rule but decide against it cause in reality he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. So you let his fingers enter your mouth and happily suck on them, humming as you do. Just as quickly as he put them in he retracted his hand and brought it down to his throbbing cock, spreading the wetness from your mouth up and down his length.

‘What now daddy’ you ask knowing that if you did anything he didn’t want you to do he would probably stop all of this immediately, so you decide to teed carefully.

‘Touch those pretty tits for me’ he says going straight to tugging his leaky cock. So you bring your fingers down to your nipples, the coldness of them making you hiss when the come into contact instantly hardening them, you slowly begin to tweak the nubs between you thumb and index finger.

‘That’s it, just like how daddy does it except he’d have his mouth on you tits sucking and biting them marking you up just the way you like’ he says knowing this was getting you even more riled up.

After a couple of minutes he stops you ‘now I want you to tease that sweet cunt of yours, don’t you dare put a finger in your tight little hole until I say, is that’s clear’

‘Yes daddy’ you say making eye contact with him as you start to touch your clit.

The sight could have made him cum right there and then, his beautiful girl touching her perfect pussy like daddy had told her to, it got him impossibly harder as he was now moving his hand up and down faster, circling the sensitive head every once in a while.

Moan after moan was pouring out of your mouth, rubbing deep circle into your clit, the sight of your boyfriend getting himself off at the same time was incredibly hot.

‘You can dip those finger into your sweet pussy of yours now baby, doing so good for me’ he was desperate to see your face morph into one of pleasure.

You moan again at his words instantly slipping two finger inside of you, not having to be told twice. You bury them to the hilt curling them up, hitting your g-spot, the sensation making you bite your lip to suppress you moans but it was no use as one escaped you and your eyes roll back. You start building a rhythm which was subconsciously at the same time as Harry ran his hand up and down his length.

‘Go faster sweet girl, just like daddy does’ you whimpered already getting close to falling over the edge, you feverishly grasped the sheets trying to keep you body up.

‘Nobody does it like you though daddy’ you were never able to replicate the actions of his fingers and the way they worked at your cunt.

Harry groans and moans had increased as he got closer and closer ‘shit I’m gonna cum’ he says his cock twitching, a long purple vein bulging as his hand now stroking himself faster then before, you really wanted to lick up the underside of his length you practically drooled at the thought.

‘Can I please cum with you daddy’

‘No baby, daddy’s gonna cum first. Wanna cum on that pussy of yours, seeing as I can’t cum inside you. C-can you spread you folds for me, can you do that for me’ he slurred out inching closer to you.

You do as he says removing your fingers then spreading you folds for him ‘want you to cum on my pussy daddy, want it soo bad’ he reaches his spare hand to fondle his balls and with a few more pumps, that mixed with your words he was done for ‘shiiit I’m cumming’ he shouts rope after rope landing on you cunt and thighs, the sensation of his warm cum on your pussy making you feel all fuzzy and bringing you to the brink once again.

His legs start to shake from the oversensitivity, his hand slowly riding out the waves of his orgasm, eyes clamped shut, his mouth still hung open soft moans tumbling out of it. ‘You good daddy’ you ask as he finally opens his eyes again.

‘Hmmm, made me cum soo hard, such a filthy little thing, look at you pretty pussy covered in my cum, looks soo good baby’ he swipes some sweaty curls that he’d fallen onto his forehead.

‘Can I have a taste daddy’

Course baby, as long as I get one aswell’

You quickly bring your fingers and collect the mixture of you twos juices, bringing them to you mouth, humming at the taste that now laid heavy on your tongue, you replicate the action again but this time bring your fingers to Harry’s awaiting mouth, he took your finger in sucking in them greedily, his soft moans making shiver run up your spine.

‘Can I cum now daddy, please daddy’ you whimpered.

‘Been such a good girl for daddy, been waiting for soo long, bet your poor little cunts aching by now. Make yourself cum for me baby’

You instantly plunge your finger into your hole, Harry’s cum making you even slicker but sticky all at the same time, the area between your legs must have looked a mess, but Harry thought it was the most hottest and beautiful things he had seen, his cock getting excited again but he would deal with that in a bit.

You fingers move inside of you at a quick pace, even adding a third the sting of the stretch morphing into pleasure. ‘Tell you what baby, if you squirt for me we can cockwarm later, promise I won’t make you clean up the mess like I made you do the other day’

You whimper, how could you deny that it was impossible in fact, the last part would have made you laugh but you were too caught up in pleasure ‘okay daddy, I’ll s-squirt for you’

Your fingers were now going frantically fast, and when you feel like a balloon was forming in you lower belly you cried out in relief ‘found the spot haven’t you, gonna soak the sheets, gonna soak me angel’ he moaned. You were seconds away from your sweet release when you threw your head back breaking eye contact with Harry which he didn’t like one bit ‘look at me baby, wanna watch you fall apart, gonna cum for me, cum for daddy’ and with that you couldn’t hold it anymore your orgasm collapsing on top of you, the balloon inside you also bursting resulting in you squirting over the sheets and part of Harry’s lower half ‘thankyou daddy, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou’ was all you managed to get out, Harry swore he could have cum at the sight of you, fingers still slowly moving in and out of you pulsating cunt, trying to come down from your high. You looked utterly fucked out and it boosted his ego knowing that the majority of you pleasure was coming from him and he hadn’t even touched you. You eventually collapse flat in the bed not being able to hold yourself up any longer, still out of breath like you had tuna marathon.

‘Fuck you’re soo hot baby, came soo hard and squirted like daddy told you, now you get to have my cock in your tight little cunt later cause you’ve been such a good girl for daddy’ you moan at that.

‘Mhhh love being your good girl, don’t know if I like being your bad girl more though’

‘Let’s stick to being good shall we, don’t think I can handle not being able to be inside you and it’s only been 3 days, think I would shrivel up if I have to do it again.’ He chuckled making you laugh tiredly. Soon you feel him crawl up between your legs before leaning over you until you two were face to face. ‘Kissy’ he asks puckering his lips making you smile wildly, leaning up to kiss his plump lips, the both of you feeling as if you were on cloud 9 now indulging in one another as their lips pressed, and tongues danced with each other.

Maybe all that torture wasn’t soo bad after all.

[suzy-queued]

Suzyyy ✨ I’ve been traveling a lot in the last week so I had so much time on my hands , and spending it reading your writings was the best! So First of all thank you for being ab amazing author, second of all, would you mind sharing your beautiful headcanons with us?

Headcanon challenge:

1. Besides “Mick” and “Mickey”, what’s Ian nickname for Mickey? From all the nicknames Mickey calls him , what’s Ian’s favorite?

2. What’s the story behind Mickey’s knuckle tattoos? (When / how / by who) When Ian gets a tattoo for Mickey, what is it / on what occasion?

3. Random turn-on for Mickey and a random turn-on for Ian? (Bonus: something that really shouldn’t be a turn on but is)

4. What’s their Instagram @ ? When did they start following each other?

5. If they get a pet, is it a dog (who walks it more often?) or a cat (who cuddles with it more often) ? 

Anon, I am so glad you're enjoying my work!!! Ahhhh, thank you! And how cool to be sent this ask.

I know a lot of people have answered these, so if I overlap, that just means great minds think alike!

1) Ian loves to play off of Mickey's name, so he calls him "Eminem" or "MM" or sometimes just "M." Ian loves it when Mickey calls him anything demeaning like "asshole" or "motherfucker" or "bitch." The meaner the better, because he knows that Mickey's feelings are the exact opposite. The stronger the insult, the more loving Mickey is actually feeling at the time.

2) Mickey got those knuckle tattoos on his thirteenth birthday. It was a rite of passage. Dad took him to a back-alley tattoo place where the sanitation was … questionable. Dad told Mickey to pick the letters. Mickey sat in that chair, tiny and seething, and all he wanted to do was punch his dad in the face. He kept repeating inside, "I'm gonna fuck you up" until finally he said it out loud. Dad laughed so hard he spit, and he told the artist to write FUCK U-UP. He whispered to Mickey, "as a reminder that you're too much of a pussy to actually try."

When Ian gets a tattoo, it isn't Mickey's name or anything that an outside person would identify as a tribute to his husband. It's a shooting star with the word "FREE" underneath. Because they make each other free. And they always look at stars, no matter how cold it is outside.

3) Mickey gets super turned on when he sees Ian carry in groceries. When he slings a five-pound bag of potatoes over his shoulder. Because his man is providing for him. It's that hunter-gatherer instinct, and Mickey lives for it.

Ian gets turned on when Mickey wears tons of layers. When he wears a scarf and gloves and a hat. When the air is so cold that his breath is visible. When he's a bundle of mismatched fabrics with only a nose and eyes showing.

4) Ian (@justDidIit, in honor of the poster that hung on his wall for years) got an Instagram after Fiona moved out, so that he could keep tabs on her. He mainly uses it for family stuff. And of course, he reached out to Mandy and follows her adventures.

Mickey (@fuckRightTheHellOff) got an IG account in secret and stalked Ian for a while before he followed him. He did it mostly to prove to Ian that he knew how to use technology. He follows exactly one (1) account, and that's Ian.

5) I think that Ian gets a pet dog. He takes sole responsibility for it, taking it for walks in the morning before Mickey is awake. Mickey swears he hates the thing, but sometimes he throws the dog bacon under the table.

Mickey is a reptile guy. He gets a snake or a lizard, something that you can feed live critters to. He likes to wear the reptile at the bar or when he rides the L and freak people out.

[moonctzeny]

baby, we're two strangers

pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2,255

summary: "When you attend your company's black mask party, you expect free booze and boring small talk with your co-workers. What you don't expect is to meet a cute stranger, who's more than willing to take you out of your misery. You don't know anything about him, not even his name, only the two deep dimples adorning his cheeks"

warnings:  alcohol consumption, fingering, cunnilingus, smut in public (what else did you expect from me), jaehyun is a little on the subbier side at some point(??) but not really

a/n: happy birthday to our precious jaehyun! hope you like this anon, sorry it took so long :(

You always thought those business parties were a pain in the ass. You barely managed to go through 5 days a week with your co-workers without committing first degree murder, now you had to see them during your precious weekends too? The thought of you starting small talk with the lady at the front desk, or having to laugh with your boss’s terrible humour all night made you sick to your stomach. But alas, you know how much your supervisor loved those kinds of parties, and your wallet needed that promotion. He’d lecture you about how they cultivate group spirit and strengthen the company’s teamwork. You just saw it as an excuse to get drunk free of charge.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you spot a stray hair that escaped the adhesion of your new hairspray, and you quickly brush it to place with your fingers. Your favourite black dress hugged your body, simple jewellery decorated your skin. You don’t even know why you bothered with eye makeup, the obligatory black mask for tonight’s dress code hiding most of your face already, with the exception of your red lipstick. You wonder whether the people who just quickly rushed by you in the hallways, too focused on their own deadlines and to-do lists would even recognize you.

The party was boring, just like you predicted. You’d given up long ago in trying to keep the conversation going with Matt from the IT department (who proved to be the most boring man on earth, apparently) and planted yourself right next to the booze table. You had your own little wine tasting party in the past hour, trying aged drinks from 10 years ago up to vins ordinaires. The alcohol relaxed your muscles and left a pleasant buzz in your head, effectively drowning out the dj’s playlist that only had hit songs from 2016. You were content in your solitude, satisfied with just staring at your co-workers interacting with each other, noticing who disliked who, who were the funny ones, who needed help with social interactions. But your comfortable loneliness wouldn’t last for long. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Ugh. Just what you needed. Matt from the IT department probably told his buddy, Ben - who keeps rudely staring at your skirts at work - that you’re here and informed him about your location. Maybe if you ignored him he would go away. Or maybe you’d just tell him that you suddenly need to go to the bathroom. Had he ever heard you speak? You wonder if he’d believe you if you told him you were deaf, actually.

You turned around to face the man, hoping that he didn’t know sign language when you finally made eye contact with him. This definitely wasn’t Ben. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life.

He was tall, with loose curls adorning the top of his head. His porcelain skin seemed to absorb all the light in the room, then send it out three times as bright. He looked fit, his small waist cinched in with the buttons of his suit, filled in fully in all the right places. You could only manage a deranged hum that barely sounded human. 

Through the small holes of the black mask he was also wearing, you can tell he was staring at you. You tried to keep the eye contact but failed miserably, your heart picking up a pace that sure can’t be healthy.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Do you work in the IT department on the bottom floor, maybe?”

You clear your throat, begging the wine in your system not to mess this up for you by making a fool of yourself. “I also work on the top floor. Maybe you just didn’t notice me before.”

“No no”, he insists, taking a sip from his drink as well while raking up and down at you with his eyes, “I would definitely remember”.

Your cheeks are burning up at this point and you leave your drink at the table, not trusting your clammy hands to not drop the 2017 Merlot all over the floor. You were done acting like boo boo the fool. You weren’t gonna let this one slip away.

“It’s weird, I don’t remember you either. And you seem like such nice company”

He smiles at your reciprocation and you almost gasp at the appearance of two deep dimples on his cheeks, framing his lovely smile. He looks like a mixture of a prince and what you pictured Edward Cullen to look like when you were reading The Twilight Saga as a teenager.

“What department do you work at, then?”

You have to roll your eyes. The wine has made you a little impatient, and the heat of your body was getting hard to ignore.

“Here’s the thing Dimples, one thing I really fucking hate is small talk. So how about you really entertain me out of this boring party?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden confidence, yet amused either way. He doesn’t miss the fact that you’re the one checking him out now, your whole body leaning against him.

“I figured I should be a gentleman first”

“I don’t want a gentleman. I need a distraction”

He flashes you those dimples again and you get the sudden urge to tackle him.

“I see. Wanna get out of here?”

You didn’t need to hear more. Taking his hand, you lead the mysterious stranger outside the hall area the party was held at, finding an empty bathroom. You felt naughty dragging a man - a stranger at that - to a place like this, reminding you of your days as a teenager. A cold breeze sneaking through the little window spread goosebumps all over the skin of your legs that was uncovered by your short dress, yet you were hyper aware of the heat emitted from the man’s body.

The moment your hands left the rotating lock, you felt his body towering over yours, then the pressure of his soft lips. He tasted sweet, like the liquor he had enjoyed earlier, his hands snaking around your waist to bring you even closer against him. You kissed with vigor and a passion that was burning in your belly, and you suck on his tongue to show him a sneak peek of your talents. He moans in your mouth, a deep rumble that you gladly swallow up, your fingers tugging on his locks in hope you get another one out of him.

You do, and he’s had enough, wrapping his hands around your legs and lifting you up on the counter. He’s sitting right between your legs, right where you want him most, and your dress has now well ridden up, only one layer between you. He seems to be thinking the same thing as his teeth are breaking the skin of your neck, one hand behind you on the mirror, staining the glass.

“Can I make you feel good?”, he asks with a voice filled with arousal and the want to please. In that moment, you wanted to moan out his name, followed by a ‘yes, please’ but you realised you never asked for it, and it didn’t really matter at this point. 

You nod back pleadingly, your eyes watery with how much you’re desperate for any sort of friction. He lifts the hand that had been kneading the soft skin of your hips, and places his thumb right over your lips. Like a reflex, your tongue peeks out from between your teeth, tasting the saltines of his finger. He moves it further inside, satisfied with the feeling and your tongue dancing around it, and when he has finally pushed half of it in you start to suckle the digit. 

The stranger’s eyes haven’t left your lips for a second, completely mesmerized by your mouth’s work and he messes up your red lipstick a bit, dragging his finger down your chin, leaving a red line behind. Dipping his thumb back in your mouth again, he lets you suck a little more until you have coated it with a satisfying amount of spit, then brings it right over your panties.

They are cotton, dampened from the moisture of his fingers and your own arousal. He applies pressure right over your clit, just enough to see you squirm on that counter, then continues to draw figure eights over the fabric. His finger dips in your opening on the lower curve of the number and you feel yourself get wetter, holding on tightly to the man’s broad shoulders and moaning in satisfaction.

He shuts you up with a kiss, nibbling on your lower lip as he pushes you panties aside, and you’re a little embarrassed with the printed watermelons they have on them. He toys with you a little, spreading your wetness around before finally dipping in, smirking at the way your head falls back. 

The heels of your feet are sitting stubbornly on the marble surface of the counter, knees next to your shoulders to give your new friend as much access as he needed. There was no time for you to be ashamed for showing him all of you, the pleasure was overflowing and ripping out your seams. He starts a trail of kisses from the junction of your next, sucking and licking his way to your chest, and frees one of your boobs with his other hand. The cold and arousal has your nipple stay erect and he seems to enjoy the view, sucking lightly and then harshly, while following the same pace petting your pussy. 

“Am I a good company?”, he asks you then, and you’d expect his tone to be teasing but it’s anything but. He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, expecting your feedback and you pet his hair, lowering his head down with the tiniest bit of pressure so that his mouth reconnects with your chest.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Are you going to make me cum?”

He nods eagerly and you lift him up with the collar of his shirt, and you know his expensive cologne will dwell on your fingers after you’re done. You bring him into a kiss, tasting his lips before you whisper over them.

“Then you have to try a little harder”

You could practically see the determination in his eyes, and he wastes no time as he immediately gets on his knees. His breath is cool over your hot core, the feeling sending tingles down your spine. The anticipation is so high that when his tongue finally comes in contact with your sensitivity you almost yelp. 

His talent isn’t limited to his fingers, you think as he leaves kitten licks over your clit, giving the bundle of nerves a gentle suck periodically. Just as you’re getting used to the soothing circles of his tongue he dips one more finger in, successfully stretching you open and you bite your hand to stifle your moans. You’re worried that your wetness will drip down to the floor but then you’re reminded of your panties, the friction of the fabric stimulating you even more. 

“I’m gonna cum”, you moan in a high pitched tone, bracing both you and the man feasting over you on his knees. One last suck and you’re thrown over the edge, legs shaking as you’re desperately trying to hold yourself in place, before you fall or crush his head with your thighs. He lets you ride out your high, still dipping his fingers in and out slowly, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. When you both feel like you’re done he gets up again, drying up his chin that is wet with your come. The tent in his slacks is painfully visible, and you rub over it seductively as you also rub your still exposed nipple.

“How about I pay you back”

The stranger doesn’t have time to answer, a loud knock making you both jump in shock and you quickly get decent again.

“Is someone still in there? I really need to use the bathroom”

“Coming!”

“Yes!”

You facepalm at the dumb mistake, exposing yourselves so easily at the man on the other side of the door. He lets out a rumbling laugh, and if there was really such a thing as ‘the end of the world’ you wish to any god out there that it happens right now.

“Ahh, I get what’s going on. You keep at it kids, another bathroom became available just now. And use protection!”

You bury your face in the stranger’s shoulder, and you feel him laugh silently at the ridiculousness of the situation. He opens the door just a slither, and when he makes sure no one is waiting for you outside the bathroom, he leads you back to the main hallway.

“So that was…”

“...hot”, he finishes your sentence with a naughty smile and you swear those dimples are gonna kill you.

“My name is y/n”, you say and firmly shake his hand, the gesture too formal compared to the things you’ve just finished doing together, “I still want to thank you for that, if you do too, of course”

“Jaehyun”, he says right back, then rubs the skin right under your lips with his thumb, and his fingertip comes back red. “Sorry for that, I got a bit carried away. You have nice lips.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun”

[perriewinklenerdie]

I love you (MO, 17/17, Ethan x MC)

Missed Opportunities Series, Chapter 17

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1070

Summary: All the times when Ethan could have told Claire he loved her but didn’t, and one time he did. Told through Ethan’s eyes.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors please DNI

A/N: The finale is upon us. Welcome to the last part of the series, where we finally change the warnings and just let my two idiots be idiots in love. 

Ethan woke up to the gentle feeling of kisses being trailed up his arm. An effortless smile tugged on the corners of his lips.

“Good morning.” Claire muttered against the skin of his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes. His hand traced a path from her hip, up her back, finally ending with a delicate touch at the back of her neck. Using the new point of contact, he pulled her down into a kiss, humming quietly at the sensation.

“I love you.” he whispered once the kiss ended, nudging her nose with his. Claire grinned.

“I love you, too.”

The next kiss had an entirely different tone. Deep, slow, and hot, it sent them both onto the path of desire, and they soon passed the point of caution. Ethan’s hands reached beneath the fabric of the shirt she was wearing, thumbs finding her nipples.

“Ethan…” Claire breathed out, bringing him closer to her with her legs on either side of his hips and grinding slowly, her intent clear.

“How do you want me, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice level, but the way she moved against him made it incredibly difficult.

“Slowly.” She panted, rolling her hips. Not long after, she fell onto the bed and crooked her finger to beckon him closer. He followed her directions, settling himself between her legs. “Look at me when you come.”

Her words alone could have made him combust on the spot, and they haven’t even started. With no sense of urgency, they got rid of each other’s night clothes and underwear. Claire held her breath when he aligned himself with her entrance, their eyes trained on each other. He fell into her open arms, embrace providing another layer of intimacy. Ethan’s broken groan got muffled by the skin of her neck, his tiny bites causing goosebumps to cover her arms. The muscles of his back were tensing as he held back from moving just yet.

The very first ghost of a sound she made started them both on a steady rhythm, their bodies coming and going together like waves lapping up the shore.

“Oh, god.” Claire’s moan went straight to his head, stroking his ego like nothing else. She snuck her hands under his arms and up his back to grab his shoulders. That form of leverage allowed her a tad bit more control over the situation, both of them now in perfect symphony.

“Lift your hips.” He said, moving his hand away from the mattress. Claire did as he asked, creating enough space for his arm to fit into. The new angle he created kicked the air out of her lungs as it allowed him to hit the spot inside her that made her feel lightheaded.

“Ethan, I want you to- fuck- “

“What was that?” he smirked, snapping his hips a bit more powerfully. She moaned, arching her back even further. Ethan pressed her onto the mattress with his body, kissing her cheek as he repeated, voice dropping to a sultry hum. “What was that?”

Claire shot him a charged look, one of her hands reaching higher to grab his hair and pull on it. “I want you to come.”

He kissed her without any hesitation, their tongues exploring each other as though it was their first time. His words were punctuated with his needy gasps for air. “Wrap your legs around me.” He kissed her, short pecks the only thing they both could afford at that moment. She followed his directions, creating yet another angle for him to enter her at.

Ethan could already feel himself slipping, his self-control leaving him behind. He opened his eyes, staring right at her.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” she said, no hesitation, no pause. Squeezing her inner muscles, she made him stumble momentarily. She repeated it once more as she stroked his broad shoulders and the back of his neck.

“I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.” Ethan was rambling now, his mind losing any coherence it once had.

“Please.” she moaned softly right before she came, his name following closely behind as stars began to appear in her vision. He followed closely behind, staring into her eyes as his movements lost precision and he chased the feeling of ecstasy she always gave him.

Claire held onto him tightly and Ethan kept his gaze on her as he gave her one last thrust. With the last shivers of their high leaving their bodies, they kissed and caressed each other, smiling wordlessly. She stroked the side of his face.

“You look happy.”

“I am happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” he pressed a warm kiss to her hand, then placed it against his heart. “I finally am able to tell you the one thing that’s been on my mind for more than a year now.”

“A year? What took you so long?” she was very obviously joking, but her surprise was genuine and visible. Ethan simply shrugged.

“I thought that was pretty obvious. After the- “ he cut himself off, a cold shiver running down his spine. Claire nodded in understanding. “After the attack, I stopped trying to pretend like I didn’t want you. Like I didn’t need you to get through the day.” His thumb pressed onto her wrist, stroking the discolored skin shortly after. “I was fully ready to tell you after the gala.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“The whole commotion with Leland put a wrench in our peace and my plan. And then your partner turned into a clueless idiot- don’t laugh at me, we both know I was behaving like an idiot.” He scoffed but was unable to fight a laugh of his own, especially when her shoulders shook as she hid her face in his chest for a second.

“I admit, not your brightest moments. But you did get back to normal, so I guess you’re forgiven.” She patted him on the chest, moving to sit up. Ethan had other plans – with his hand still on hers, he pulled her downwards a little, making her laughing eyes meet his again.

“You guess I’m forgiven?”

“Yes. But only because I love you.” Claire grinned, falling back onto the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck. Ethan smiled – he hoped he’d get to smile with her every day from now on. He leaned down to peck her nose playfully.

“I love you, too.”

Notes

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for being here with me along for the ride. It’s been my pleasure to have you here, as I said goodbye to the series that carried me through my bachelors degree. 

There’s an announcement coming your way soon, as well as two fics - one that has an angsty undertone and the other that is half angst and half fluff (only the first one is written so far and all I can tell you is that it’s called Out of reach). There’s also the little thing called The Herondale Family + that I’ve been teasing for a while - that one should make appearance sometime in the future.

Thank you so much for reading and being here, see you soon (on the other side)!

Perrie <3

[jaskierswolf]

Dearest Wolfie, may I request some vampire Geraksier sexy times? Perhaps Jaskier is... thirsty... if you catch my drift. (from @geraskier-trashh)

@dani-dandelino darling this got out of control....

Gerakier - featuring Vampire!Jasker. Rated E. Words: 2.3k

CW: Biting, blood drinking, frotting, sex magic (but with explicit consent), lingerie, orgasm denial, dom/sub undertones

On AO3

Geralt gripped his silver sword in his hands as he moved silently and slowly through the mansion. The whole situation was like a scene from one of Jaskier’s ballads. There was a storm outside, lightning flashing through the broken shards of glass from what were once windows, thunder crashing into the night. Geralt’s hair was a sodden mess, soaked through and cold against his skin. Wind howled through the empty dusty cobweb riddled corridors of the abandoned house and floorboards creaked underfoot much to Geralt’s displeasure. 

He growled under his breath and raised his sword as a door slammed in the distance. The creature was on the move. Geralt’s eyes flickered around at inhuman speed, not wanting to be caught off guard. The contract had stated there was some sort of vampire loose in the abandoned mansion but Geralt wasn’t sure. A place like this was far better suited to a wraith. It would explain the chill down his spine. Something wasn’t right. 

“I wondered when I’d be seeing you, witcher,” a melodic haunting voice sang through the halls. 

Geralt spun around in a pirouette but there was still no sign of the monster. “Show yourself,” he growled. 

“Ah ah. Patience, darling.”

Geralt froze, his sword almost clattering to the ground. 

That voice.

“Jaskier?” he asked, praying to the gods he didn’t believe in that it was a trick, some cruel trick, an illusion. It couldn’t be him. 

Jaskier’s musical laughed bounced off the walls and echoed all around him. He spun around again but couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He growled and focussed his senses, the metallic scent of blood burning his nose, but he could finally track the vibrations of Jaskier’s voice. He stalked through the halls, keeping a tight grip on his sword. He wouldn’t let himself be tricked by this illusion… he just needed to keep a clear head. 

“Getting warmer, witcher,” Jaskier purred as Geralt pushed open the door to what appeared to be the master bedroom. 

Unlike the rest of the house this room was in perfect condition.  A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling and in the centre of the room was a large four poster bed adorned in red silk sheets. Jaskier lay in the middle of the bed, a shimmering white silk robe that was barely tied shut, dark chest hair peaking out between the soft fabric. He looked… beautiful, exactly like he had when Geralt had last seen him, except the colour of his skin which was now a ghostly white. His lips were blood red, which almost looked like the paint Yen used, almost. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked cautiously, not lowering his sword. “You. You’re not?” he snarled, cutting himself off.

It hadn’t been that long since they’d seen each other. Jaskier had waved a cheery goodbye and then set off to Oxenfurt as the chill began to hang in the air. Jaskier’s gave him a sheepish smile and cocked his head, “Sorry darling, ran into some trouble at the University.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growled, his sword finally falling to the ground. “Jask.”

His voice cracked as he crawled onto the bed and pulled the bard into his arms. Jaskier felt deathly cold beneath his fingers, gone was the warmth that had always been so comforting. Jaskier cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m still me, Geralt, and I’ve never killed anyone! I promise, I wouldn’t, I couldn’t… I only ever take what I need.”

“The alderman…”

“Is mad because I slept with his wife a couple of years ago.”

Geralt stared at the bard turned vampire in his arms, stroking a thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. His eyes were still the same cornflower blue but even in the darkness Geralt could see the slight shimmer of magic; an illusion. “Your eyes?”

“Red,” Jaskier smiled sadly, and glanced away. “But I found a mage that helped me, sold me an illusion spell for far too much coin.”

“Can I see?” Geralt asked, not wanting Jaskier to have to hide a single part of his new self. “Please, Jask.”

His medallion hummed and blue eyes morphed to blood red, striking against his chalk white skin. Jaskier’s bottom lip quivered, and Geralt ran his thumb along it. Jaskier’s honey chamomile scent remained the same and Geralt knew in his heart that this was no illusion. He would know his bard anywhere. Only Jaskier would spend the last of his coin on a spell to keep his eyes blue when he’d been turned into a monster from his own ballads. 

“I could never kill you,” Geralt whispered and pressed their lips together. 

Jaskier hummed and threaded his fingers into Geralt’s hair, pushing Geralt back onto the mattress. “I was so hoping you’d say that,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips as he straddled his waist. Geralt felt heat prickle over his skin despite the coolness of Jaskier’s touch. Jaskier’s thighs were firm under his fingers as he ran his hands under the silk dressing gown. The iciness of Jaskier’s skin felt strange after so many years of his human warmth but Geralt still loved him, how could he not?

It was Jaskier. 

He tugged at the tie around Jaskier’s middle and the robe fell open. He was wearing silk lingerie underneath, a deep rich purple fabric that barely hid Jaskier’s cock from view. Geralt ran his fingers up Jaskier’s torso, through the thick hair and brushing over the smooth fabric covering his pecs. Jaskier let out a soft whine as Geralt’s fingers swept over his nipple.  

“Geralt, sweetheart…” Jaskier breathed, eyes dark as he stared back down at Geralt, a soft blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t nearly as red as he would have been before, but Geralt was happy that he hadn’t completely lost that little slice of humanity. 

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, and rolled his hips up against his lover. “Were you trying to seduce me to stop me from killing you?” he asked with a smirk, the softly scented candles, the bed, the silk robe, the lingerie. The dramatics of it was ridiculous and so very Jaskier. 

Jaskier licked his lips and ran his hands over Geralt’s torso “Did it work?”

Geralt chuckled. “Not sure.”

Jaskier snorted and leaned forward to brush his lips along Geralt’s jaw, “Oh really?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s lips moved to his neck, pressing a kiss just below Geralt’s ear. “You know, my venom can be quite pleasurable, so I’ve been told,” he whispered, a slight rock of his hips that felt like sin against Geralt’s hardening cock. 

“Not to witchers,” Geralt muttered, for the first time in his life regretting the mutations’ ability to counteract toxins. 

“Are you sure about that, darling?” Jaskier’s lips pressed to his throat and Geralt felt the scrape of his sharp teeth. Jaskier had always found pleasure in marking his lovers and Geralt had often been left with bruises and teeth marks all over his neck, but this was a new feeling. Jaskier biting him as a human was a possessiveness that Geralt found endearing but trapped under his newly vampiric boyfriend… Geralt felt a rush of arousal, heat coiling at his core. 

Jaskier could probably cause him some serious harm, possibly even kill him. It depended on which class of vampire he had become. Geralt had never known one that could turn humans before, this was something new, something unknown. He gasped as teeth sunk into his skin, sharp pain pulling him from his thoughts. 

Jaskier giggled, caressing his cheek as he pulled away. “You’re thinking too loudly, darling,” he half moaned as he rutted against Geralt, blood now staining his lips. Geralt’s fingered the bite on his neck but his witcher healing had already closed the shallow wound. He found he was disappointed. If Jaskier’s venom truly was pleasurable to those he drank from then Geralt wanted it to be him. He didn’t want anyone else to see his bard like these, wanting and desperate for his touch… his blood. 

The movement of Jaskier rolling his hips against him was becoming unbearable. Every movement creating friction and heat between them, a constant low ripple of pleasure running through Geralt’s body, across his skin. He growled, fingers digging into Jaskier’s waist, stilling his movements. “Stop teasing.”

Jaskier leant forward against to kiss him. “Oh but it’s so much fun, and you look so beautiful laid out underneath me like this, my White Wolf lying on his back, letting me take my pleasure.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. Fuck, the bastard had a way with words, he knew exactly what to say to drive Geralt mad with lust. He reached up to tug the silk robe from Jaskier’s shoulders, wanting to see more of the pale skin, to see how much Jaskier’s transformation changed him. Would Geralt have to relearn Jaskier’s body, his likes and dislikes… he would do it. Even if it took them a lifetime, something that meant something quite different now that Jaskier’s lifespan was more like his. 

“Off,” he growled as the robe tumbled to the mattress, leaving Jaskier in just the pretty silk undergarment, soft and beautiful against his skin. Geralt hummed as he stroked against the fabric. “This can stay.”

Jaskier whined under his touch and started tearing at the buckles on Geralt’s armour, quickly getting frustrated. Geralt chucked and hooked his legs behind Jaskier, flipping them over so the bard was lying back against the bed, pouting up at him, red eyes wide through dark eyelashes. Geralt pecked him on the lips and rolled off the bed so he could get rid of his armour. Jaskier watched intently, palming his cock through the thin panties as Geralt stripped off as efficiently as possible. It wasn’t sexy and he felt ridiculous, but he was in a hurry to get back to his lover. Jaskier whined impatiently and reached out for him as his last layer of clothes hit the ground. He crawled into the bed and captured Jaskier’s lips in a blistering kiss. Jaskier’s fingers pulled at his hair, moaning into the kiss, the taste of Geralt’s blood lingering in his mouth, reminding him of what his boyfriend had become.

my venom can be quite pleasurable

Jaskier’s words echoed, a seed planted in his head that refused to die and fade away. What if he wasn’t immune? He wanted all that Jaskier could give to him. He rolled them back over so Jaskier was on top of him, their bodies rubbing against each other, pawing at each other’s skin. 

“Bite me,” Geralt growled. 

Jaskier’s lips froze on his collar bone and the bard pulled back to look at him, a crease between his brows that Geralt wanted to kiss away. “What?” he asked, voice strangely quiet. 

“You want to?” Geralt asked, rubbing circles with his thumb into Jaskier waist. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and groaned. “Gods yes, do you have any idea how good you smell, how good you taste?” Jaskier’s fingers brushed over Geralt’s neck where his teeth had been earlier. “I almost couldn’t stop.”

“I trust you, I want you,” Geralt hummed, gripping the soft silk that adorned Jaskier’s arse. “Please.”

That last word seemed to ignite something it Jaskier. He let out a low hiss, eyes turning nearly completely black and he lunged forward, hands fisting in Geralt’s hair. He licked and sucked at Geralt’s neck until Geralt was gasping for breath, writhing underneath him. Geralt didn’t care, there weren’t many times he could relax and let down his guard, but he could with Jaskier. He wasn’t ashamed of how much the bard affected him. 

By the time Jaskier’s fangs broke his skin he was already thrusting up off the bed, he wanted more, he wanted… 

Waves of pleasure crashed over him, making his mind feel hazy. Whines and moans escaping his throat that didn’t sound like they could come from him, desperate, pathetic sounds. Jaskier’s arse was grinding into his cock, happy hums rumbling in his chest, his grip in Geralt’s hair unrelenting. Geralt’s eyes rolled back. He felt like putty, melting into the soft sheets on the bed, the burning heat on his skin almost too much to bear. He could do nothing except moan helplessly as Jaskier rutted against him, taking his pleasure from Geralt’s limp body. He could feel the drag at his neck as Jaskier drank, but he’d never felt anything quite like it. He was in pure bliss and he hadn’t even cum yet, his hard cock between their bodies a stark reminder of that fact. 

“Jask…” he slurred, tongue heavy, unable to think anything but the pleasure that was flooding his senses. 

With a strangled moan Jaskier pulled away from him, one last hard thrust and broken cry before collapsing onto Geralt’s chest. Geralt whined at the loss of Jaskier’s bite. He was still hard but he felt like he’d cum at least three times already, satisfied and yet aching, cock leaking against his chest. Jaskier’s fingers released his hair and he trailed slopping kisses over Geralt’s chest, fangs still pricking at his skin. Geralt let his head fall back against the pillow, feeling both blissful and wanting at the same time. His brushed his fingers along Jaskier’s spine, tripping over the fastening of his bra. HIs other hand reached down, brushing past his own stomach towards his cock, sending a shiver through him but before he could grip himself Jaskier’s hand swatted at his. 

“No,” the vampire slurred. 

“What?”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier lifted his head lazily, blood stains trickling down his chin as he gaze up at Geralt, a smirk on his lips. “If you’re good I’ll let you fuck me tomorrow.”

Geralt groaned but let his hand drop back on his stomach. Apart from his new found bloodlust Jaskier hadn’t changed one bit. Geralt pressed a kiss to the bard’s hair. “Bastard.”

“You love me,” Jaskier trilled.

Geralt laughed quietly, still feeling heavy headed and hazed from Jaskier’s venom. “I do, still a bastard though.”

____

Tag list: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell @dazedandinked @jaskierstark @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

[kariachi]

Story popped into the head.

Kevin and Ben and a skirt, post Highbreed Arc.

~~

It took several minutes more than he’d like to admit for Ben to notice something was different. Not until he’d parked his bike just inside one of Kevin’s garages and thrown himself onto the couch inside. For one thing, Kevin was wearing a short-sleeved shirt for the first time in, as far as he knew, five years, but that wasn’t too surprising. It was the hottest day of the last ever, Ben’d have sworn it, and he wouldn’t have even been out of his nice, air-conditioned house if his mom hadn’t had a bunch of her friends over to some get-together or another. Figured it would take temperatures in the mid-nineties to get him to drop the long sleeves and layers. No, the other change Ben didn’t notice until after a few minutes of trying to see if he could stretch out and pop open the minifridge without getting up, when Kevin huffed and came to grab a soda for him.

“You,” he said, blinking at the swishing fabric suddenly right in front of him, accepting the soda without a glance, “are wearing a skirt.” He was. Knee-length, dark blue, and covered in silver images of some animal Ben couldn’t name.

“Yeah.” Tearing his eyes away, Ben looked up to see Kevin raising an eyebrow at him, chin lowered. Like he was daring him to make a comment. Ben, not quite stupid enough to pick a fight when it felt like he was melting into the upholstery, decided to be chill.

“Can I ask why?” Kevin stared him down for a long moment, then shrugged and headed back to whatever the mass of metal in the center of the room was.

“It’s finally decent weather,” he explained, following a moment later with- “And I look damn good.” He did, Ben was willing to admit that. Truth be told, Kevin looked better in the skirt than Ben ever had in anything ever. There was a twinge of jealousy at the thought, and a side order of ‘oh, yeah, almost forgot I was bi’ which wasn’t any more appreciated.

“Just,” Ben said carefully, now actively keeping himself from looking at Kevin’s legs because he was not going to eye up his cousin’s boyfriend thank you very much, “never took you for a skirt guy.” The tools were set down again, and he fought back the urge to cringe as Kevin slowly crossed his arms over his project and turned a look of cold discipline on him that every principal he’d had and Gwen herself would’ve been in awe over.

“Meaning..?”

Again, Ben was not stupid. He could tell a trap when it was staring him in the eye with a history of murder, and there was no explanation that came into his head that would be the right answer. There were a few different images that came into his mind when he thought of ‘types of guys who wear skirts’ and he got the strong feeling mentioning any of them would get somebody hurt. Instead, he just shrugged.

“I’ve only ever seen you in jeans.” The staring lasted for another several moments before Kevin went back to work with a huff.

“They’re warm.” Seriously?

“Dude,” Ben laughed, “it’s been in the low eighties all month!”

“Yeah, and? I run cold.”

“That cold?”

“The one day since I came back to Earth I’m not chilly and I get teased for it.” Still laughing as Kevin rolled his eyes with a small smile, Ben shook his head and slipped his soda behind his neck for the blessed cold.

“How did you even survive New York, isn’t it like, frigid up there?”

“Yeah,” Kevin answered with a shrug, “but the clothes are better for it. I steal an old sweater and jacket out there, and they’re gonna be warm. Do that here and I may as well be walking around in my underwear.”

“Oh god,” Ben snorted, “don’t ever do that, I don’t know that Gwen would let you ever wear clothes again if you opened that door.” Kevin snorted a laugh of his own.

“Yeah, I spent too much good money of some of this shit for that,” he said, and Ben’s eyes flicked back to the skirt. He didn’t get it, but then he didn’t get a lot when it came to Kevin. There’d been key things he didn’t understand even before that five-year gap, before Kevin had spent so long without so much as seeing another human, and now the list was even longer. Less disconcerting, but longer. So maybe it made sense for him to dress like this sometimes, just another of those things he’d picked up wandering the galaxy.

“It does look nice,” he said, a sort’ve peace offering as much as it was the truth. Kevin blinked, followed his eyes down to the skirt, and grinned.

“Thanks!” It came out more enthusiastic than anything he’d heard him say in years. “Got the fabric on Lignum, and Argit made it up for me. Check this out-”

Leaning forward politely, Ben nodded along with occasional ‘cool’s as whatever Kevin was saying about the fabric or the workmanship went in one ear and out the other. Maybe that he’d put some tech in it? He didn’t really care, not nearly as much as he did about how comfortable Kevin clearly was. They still had their differences, plenty of them, but to was nice to see. Especially when he remembered how he’d been when they met- a ticking timebomb with a sweet smile, just looking for a place to go off. It was nice, was always nice, to see him in a better place. And if going around in a skirt sometimes made him smile like that?

Well, who was he to ask questions?

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 27

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: my god i really took a whole month to write this. i am sooo sorry, but i was a bit stuck with the narrative. thankfully it’s moving forward. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N watched him walk up to his bag to removal a navy blue square box. She furrowed her brows, leaning on her hands on the worn out duvet from her teen years as he sat by his side. His cheeks were dusted pink, lip stuck between his teeth as he handed it to her. Y/N merely looked at him like a child who knew nothing of the object that had been placed on top of her hands. All she knew was that it was in her hands and felt more expensive than the homemade present she had manage to hid under all her chunky Christmas outfits Bucky deemed unnecessary. He was nervous, heart pounding under the several layers of clothing he was wearing to protect himself from the cold. Rebecca had warned him to be careful, maybe to thread around lightly as she could be freaked out. His pace seemed to slow down as he walked up to the bed were she was so innocently and calmly looking at her. It’s gonna be fine, Barnes, man up, he told himself. 

     - You don’t have to accept it. I just ... I thought you might want it. 

     - Bucky, you’re rambling. - she cocked her head to the side, giving him a teasing smile as he sat by the bed. - The only reason someone should be so nervous is if they’re proposing. 

     -  Uhm ... - he rubbed the back of his neck as he set the box on the bed. All the colour drained from her face and she put her hands in front of her mouth.

     - Are you proposing? Gosh, did I ruin it? Oh my I ruined a proposal, again. 

     - Not quite. - he gave her a toothy grin. - And when did you ruin a proposal?

     - Long story. - she rested her chin against her hand.

     - Well, when my ‘ma died she left me and Rebecca a lot of stuff. - he opened up the old blue velvet box to show a small pearl necklace laying against the padded black satin fabric. - She left me this ... outta all things. Said I should give it to a nice girl someday but I’d never met a nice girl until I met you ...

    - Bucky. - her lips almost pouted as she tried not to get her emotions get the best of her. It was nothing special, it was really nothing special but to hear him, the man she was so hopelessly in love with, say she was a nice girl was making her heart beat faster.

    - You don’t have to wear it ... it’s probably too old and ... well I just wanted you to have them. My dad gave it to my mum before he got shipped off and I thought I’d give them to you ...

    - Wait, you’re not being shipped off, are you? - she wrapped her arms around his neck. - Because if you did good news first and bad news last, I’ll be very upset.

    - No, no, no. I’m not being shipped out ... I think I’m to old for that. - he chuckled. - The point is, he gave it to her as a labour of love and I want it to give it to you as a labour of love too. Except without the shipping off. 

    - Bucky, it’s beautiful. - she looked down at the box. - And it’s not too old.

    - It’s over a hundred years old.

    - You’re over a hundred years old. - she gave him a teasing look, kissing the corner of his mouth. - Maybe I fancy things over a hundred years old.

    - Yeah? - he smiled at her. - Do you wanna put it on?

    - Can you help me? - she handed him the pearls, turning around to face the mirror in front of her bed. Bucky draped the small pearl string around her neck, clasping it at the back before putting his hand on her shoulder, his head resting in the curvature between her neck and shoulder. Her finger traced the imperfect circular shapes of the pearls, soft smile on her lips. - Bucky, they’re beautiful. Thank you.

    - Thank god you like them. Sam’s been in my head all day sayin’ you’d think they’re too old. - he kissed her neck as she laughed. - Besides, I didn’t really know what to give you. I can’t really give you the moon.

    - The moon sounds like it’d take too much space in the house. Can you imagine? I live in a one bedroom flat, I barely have space for me and my thoughts.

    - Stop it. - he held her chin to turn her face so he could kiss her. - You know, missy ... you still owe me for that stunt you pulled in the airplane.

    - You know I would love to finish it ... - she threw her legs over his. - But I have to go with my mum tomorrow morning to pick out last minute gifts and she is an early bird.

   - Uhm ... you torture me. - he wrapped his arms around her. - But I’ll let it slide this time. 

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night, he stood up all night looking at her; the way the moon illuminated her skin against the dusty blue sheets, the pearls drapped over her beautiful skin. Bucky thought in that moment he was the luckiest man in the world and that maybe it was all worth it. Maybe falling from the train, becoming HYDRAs fist, Zemo, wars, everything ... maybe it was worth going through all of that because if he hadn’t gone through all of that, he wouldn’t be what he was today and he wouldn’t have met her. It was worth knowing it, it was worth having her. He remembered his mum reprimanding him every time he’d break up or start seeing yet another girl “James Barnes, you gotta stop playin’ around and find yourself a nice girl who you love and loves you back for who you are”. He didn’t believe her, he knew why girls were into him, or into the uniform so he didn’t really believe someone would want to stick around with him being a soldier. But Y/N, Y/N loved him with that and even all his nightmares and trauma. He couldn’t help but want to keep her safe despite that being what his job entailed, and it made his blood boil whenever he thought back to how someone had broken into her place, into her safe space. It made him more upset he hadn’t figured out who done it. Not even Steve or Natasha found any clues, it was almost as if it never happened but he had pictures, he had pictures of that word written across the mirror.

He could not stop thinking about it, he couldn’t sleep about it. He hadn’t been able to sleep in a while, afraid something would happen to her while he was asleep. He had failed to protect her, someone had gotten into her home and god... something could have happened and he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there to defend her. He couldn’t even do his job right. He couldn’t protect his girlfriend.  

Bucky stood up all night until the early morning when the clock shone 7:30 AM. She moved around, signalling she was more awake than asleep. He smiled, kissing her forehead as she opened her eyes.

   - Morning, princess. 

   - Buck, you need to sleep. - she said in her cute sleep filled voice. - It’s too early for you.

   - I don’t need sleep. Super soldier, remember, doll?

   - That can’t be right. - she rose up from the bed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. - You sure you’re okay being alone? I could ask my mum ...

   - Go have time with your mum, princess. I’ll be fine, promise you.

   - Do not let my sisters give you any trouble. Or my brother ... or any of my sister’s husbands. You know what? You’re allowed to cuss them out if they do.

   - I’m sure it’ll be fine. - he watched as she got dressed and covered into layers upon layers. He had forgotten how cold England was. - You don’t have to worry.

   - Yes I have. They’re very persuasive, they’re lawyers. They will convince you to do things you don’t even want to do with you noticing. 

   - I’ve been through mind control before, I’m sure I can handle it, doll face.

   - Doll face? - she smirked. - That’s a new one. You sure you’re not trying to butter me up so I finish what I started.

   - Nonsense. - he got up from her, slowly walking up to her, hands resting upon her waist as he whispered against her ear. - It’s not like you need any buttering up isn’t it, princess?

   - I ... - her face grew warm at the thoughts that filled her head.

   - Y/N! Honey, are you ready? - her mother’s knock on the door, followed by her opening it just the slightest bit interrupted her sex filled thoughts. - We don’t wanna catch a confusion.

   - Yeah, mum. Just saying bye to Bucky.

   - Oh, Bucky ... there’s breakfast downstairs if you want. The boys are all up, maybe you can socialise.

   - Mum ... - Y/N said through a tight smile as the three walked from the bedroom into the hall. 

   - You worry too much. - her mother ushered down the stairs to the door where her father was leaned against, waiting. Y/N kissed Bucky goodbye before being pushed out of the house.

Bucky couldn’t say he was particularly comfortable. It wasn’t that her family wasn’t nice, they were as inviting as one could be but he barely knew them and the last thing he wanted was to scare them off or leave a bad impression. After all, there wasn’t a lot of his family Y/N had to impress and whatever was left of it she had left a great impression but her family, well, her family probably did not expect a 100 year old soldier bodyguard dating their actress daughter. Yet again, who does?

He walked into the dinning room where most of her family was sat down happily eating breakfast until they became aware of his presence. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, ready to mumble an apology before Aunt Petunia was grabbing him and seating him down on one of the free seats. 

   - So, Bucky, what do you want to eat?

   -  Uhm ... just black coffee is fine. -  he spoke and as fast as he did, a cup of coffee was in front off him.

    - Don’t you want anything to eat? Oh, is this a super soldier situation where you cannot eat? Is it because you’re a 100? Honey, do you need any medication?

    - No, no, m’am. I’m just not a breakfast person. 

    - Uhm, I see. Did you sleep well? I couldn’t sleep all night with Sophie ... - Petunia looked at Claire who rolled her eyes at her. - Crying all night.

    - I’m sorry that we can’t control when a baby cries, Aunt Petunia. - Claire replied before returning to feed some crushed banana to her baby. 

    - Babies. - the old woman rolled her eyes, before redirecting her attention towards Bucky. - Do you want them?

    - Pardon?

    - A baby. You want a baby right? Y/N has always wanted babies ... of course she keeps forgetting she won’t be fertile forever. 

     - Uhm ... I don’t know, Y/N and I haven’t really discussed having a kid. 

     - I don’t wanna know about that. I wanna know if you want a baby.

     - I don’t know if I can have a baby. - he sighed, looking at any of Y/N’s siblings for help.

     - What do you mean you don’t know?

     - Bucky. - Claire interrupted her aunt. - Do you mind getting the mail? We haven’t checked our post box since we arrived and it’s probably pilling up. 

     - Yeah. - he got up from his chair before he could be asked any more questions.

Could he have a baby? He didn’t know; Steve couldn’t and Steve hadn’t. gone through all the brainwashing and shock therapy he had gone through. Besides, he refused to know and he didn’t really care about it. Why would Bucky Barnes, an ex murderer for HYDRA, want to bring a kid into this world? No, the world was better off this way and he did not want to know the answer anyway despite the idea of a family haunting his fantasies. Thankfully Claire had saved him and for that alone, he was almost certain she was his favourite sibling out of all. Checking the post wasn’t too hard and surely no one would ask about his family planning on the way to the post box.

He let the door behind him as he passed through the snowy ground until the postbox which, despite most of Claires belief, was quite empty except for a few postcards, bills and a particular letter that caught his attention. He looked around before putting the rest of the mail under his arm and started to inspect the letter. It had no stamp, no sender, not even an address, just Y/N’s name in the front written in cursive. Bucky knew he shouldn’t open her mail but he just didn’t trust it and as he ripped through the envelope, his suspicious heightened.

You cannot hide, whore. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (4) || atz

You’re sitting at a tiny cove.

Your legs swing along the rocky ledge of the cliff you are on, dangling into the water. Beneath you, the water sparkles like liquid emeralds. Bright, colorful fish dart here and there around your feet and you laugh.

You leap down and there’s a splash, you’re waist deep in water. You move forward and forward until you’ve reached the mouth of the cove and the water comes up to your chin.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and submerge yourself.

Something soft and gentle brushes its way along your arms and you giggle underwater, bubbles escaping your mouth, but it’s of no concern to you. The soft arms caress you gently, as if you’re a precious treasure to them. You open your eyes.

Something stares back at you, glowing the colour of blood. It’s massive, almost twice your size, radiating some sort of curious light in the middle of the dark mass it’s in. Then it hits you.

It’s a single, unblinking eye.

You jerk awake with cold sweat running down your back and immediately regret it as you feel your head split in half from a sharp throbbing in your head. You groan, keeping your eyes tightly shut as you cradle your head in your hands, waiting for the pain to subside.

Something tugs lightly at your shoulder. No, not rope. Cloth? You start to panic when you realize that you are no longer tied to the mast.

Are they intending to kill you now?

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Your eyes fly open and you immediately shy away from the voice, pressing against the wall next to you. Your legs instinctively curl up to your body and you let out a cry of pain as your ankle knocks into wood.

“Don’t move, idiot.”

You look up to see the man talking to you. He’s tall and lightly built, dressed in a simple, oversized tunic and knee length shorts. Around his neck are a few silver chains, with strange symbols you don’t recognise, and his hair is a soft grey-green. Everything about him throws you off, he feels soft and reserved, nothing like a pirate.

Then you see the short dagger strapped to his left thigh.

You press against the wall more tightly, turning your face away from him. If he’s going to kill you, it might be more bearable if you can’t see it coming. You feel the tiny rocking of ocean waves.

“My name is Choi San, but you can just call me San.” The man begins to introduce himself, seating himself in a chair opposite you. You’re in a bed, you realize, as he continues to speak. “I’m the healer on board the Treasure, so I was responsible for treating your wounds. It’s admirable how you managed to keep quiet about a badly twisted ankle, an infected musket wound and a raging fever all at once.” There's something unsaid left in his voice.

You swallow.

“Especially for a woman.”

You freeze, all movement ceasing in a single second. Your hands unconsciously move up to your chest, only to find it unbound underneath a couple of layers of fabric.

Oh shit.

You’re definitely going to be shark food now.

“I haven’t told Hongjoong yet, if that’s what you were wondering.”

Your head whips around to stare at him in shock. His expression hasn’t changed the least, he still wears the same unreadable, blank face and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or he’s being serious. He has no reason not to report to the captain his findings, so why?

“It’s not my business that Hongjoong-ie is so blind he can’t tell the difference.” The healer leans back in a sturdy wooden chair, steepling his fingers with a calm gaze. You can’t tell whether that is comforting or terrifying. “Besides, I have a cat’s nature and I find my curiosity difficult to satisfy. So, if your story entertains me enough, I may keep your little secret from the captain. But I can see that you’re bursting to ask questions, so ask away.”

“Who undressed me?” Are the first words that tumble from your mouth. San chuckles at your question.

“Me.”

You groan in embarrassment and hide your face in your hands, unable to face him anymore. He snickers in amusement, and even though you can’t see it, his smile dimples his cheeks.

“No need to feel shy.” The man remarks, even though you can hear the mirth lingering in his voice. “I didn’t look. I just changed your bandages daily for the last two days.”

“I’ve been asleep for two days? That doesn’t make it any better.” Your words are muffled behind your fingers and you know your cheeks are tinged pink. “It’s still embarrassing.”

“I had to check you over for injuries.” San explains logically as you peer at him between the cracks in your fingers. “Who knows what else you might be hiding? I cleaned your wounds with salt water solution and bandaged you. As for your ankle, I splinted it with driftwood but don’t expect to walk normally for the next five to ten days or so.”

You gulp. Five days is more than you can afford.

“Is the captain going to throw me overboard?”

“As if I’d let him.” San’s complete indifference to Hongjoong’s authority surprises you, but you suppose even the captain needs to be on a healer’s good side in case he ever gets injured. This explains the sizable room and bed for the healer. Still, the informal way he addresses his captain is a little shocking. “He’s not going to waste all that effort I put into treating you. I used the last of my marigold petal antiseptic on your arm and he’d better get me more at Tortuga.”

You manage to stifle the tiny giggle that leaves your mouth, but San hears it anyways. He smiles slightly. “So, what’s your name?”

You pause, then answer as truthfully as possible.

“I don’t remember.”

To your surprise, San doesn’t try to call you a liar or force you to tell him some other answer. Instead he ponders your words carefully.

“That’s a common symptom among those who have head injuries. I was just telling Yeosang about them a few days ago.” You don’t know who Yeosang is, but you nod in understanding. You’re a little relieved that he seems to believe you, but is this a ploy to make you lower your guard? “They’re short term, but the memories usually come back after a few days or weeks. I don’t think I’ve met many who’ve forgotten their own identities though. Those usually die a few days after.”

“What?” You choke and suddenly you start coughing, your throat dry and scratchy. San reaches for a mug you hadn’t noticed before on his desk and passes it to you, filled with a fragrant green tinted liquid you don’t recognize. You can’t hide your suspicious look.

“It’s jasmine green tea.” San explains as he sits down again. “It’s helps calm the nerves and is also a fantastic cleaning solution for wounds as it prevents infection, but I prefer drinking it. My shipmates would rather ingest grog.” He sniffs in distaste and shakes his head. “Hongjoong knows what’s good for him, though. We’ve stayed in the cove for a couple days more because some of the scouting parties found tea leaves growing on one of the hills nearby. The rest are hunting deer with Shiber so we can have fresh venison tonight. It makes a nice change from eating preserved food all the time.”

As he continues to ramble about how some of the crew have started setting out nets to catch some fresh fish, you take a sip of the tea. It’s a little bitter with a warm, grassy flavor. You don’t enjoy it very much, but the next available option, grog, sounds even more unpalatable, so you choose to down the whole mug.

San pauses in his talking to nod his approval. “You’re a smart one. Anyway, as I was saying, the men usually die soon, but that’s because of internal bleeding in the skull. I found blood clots when I cut their heads open.”

You almost spit out the tea. “You cut their what open?”

The healer shrugs. “They’re already dead, so they don’t feel a thing.” When you continue to give him dubious, horrified looks, he starts to explain. “It’s for medical research! What I’m trying to say is, they don’t die because they lose their memories, they die because of the wound that caused them to lose their memories. From what I can see, you don’t have any such wound.”

“That’s reassuring.” You manage to say, thumping your chest. San nods.

“Captain said you claimed to have woken up in a prison cell in Raguza, am I correct?” He asks and you nod. San seems like a kind person and is the only one who is willing to help you. Then you pause.

“Raguza?” You repeat, unfamiliar with the name. San dismisses it with a wave.

“The town we raided a few days ago.” He explains, before carrying on. “He also said that you claimed to have no memory of how you came to be wearing the coat of a Royal Navy officer.”

You nod hesitantly. Even you’re aware of how unbelievable your story sounds. But San seems to be taking all of this in stride, better than you are, at least.

“Well, you could either be a skilled liar, insane, or telling the truth.”

You open your mouth to protest that nothing that has come out of your mouth has been a lie so far, but he holds up a hand to stop you. Your mouth closes with an audible clop.

“If you are a liar and are simply a spy of the Royal Navy here to steal the navigational maps, you must be a terrible one to present such a ridiculous story.” You try to protest again, but he continues. “From what I gather of my conversation with you, you are too sound of mind to be mad. So that only leaves me with one option. You are telling the truth.”

Just like that?

Something in you breaks down in relief and your shoulders sag. You’ve known that the whole time, that you’ve been telling the truth, that you have no memories. But suddenly, you’re not alone. Now, somebody believes you.

Someone understands.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until San reaches forward to brush the tears from your eyes. His fingers are gentle and warm, like Seonghwa’s hands. Then you start.

“Did Seonghwa bring me here? Where are we?” You look around the room you are in. You’re sitting on one of the two small beds in the cramped cabin, the shelves along the walls overflowing with written text, books and boxes with messily scribbled labels. There’s a small wooden table in the middle, a stack of paper in danger of falling off the side, and several stalks of dried plants on its surface. Opposite you is a wooden door.

“We’re in my cabin. You’re currently in Seonghwa’s bed. He offered to bed down with the rest of the crew until you recover.” San hesitates. “As for who brought you here… he asked not to be mentioned. It wasn’t Seonghwa.”

A frown tugs at your lips. Besides the kindly cook, who else would take any sympathy on you to come drag you here in the middle of a rainstorm? San shakes his head and gets to his feet.

“Don’t think too much about it.” Before you can protest, he moves over to the table and retrieves a small wooden box, opening its clasp. “Anyway, I was intending on returning this to you once you woke up.”

A thin, silver chain dangles from his fingers, at the end of which is a tiny, clear cut crystal. Small, delicately wrought silver leaves hold the crystal in place, and your mouth falls open in awe as San presses it into your hand. A kaleidoscope of reflected colors fall on your palm.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathe, lifting your hand to inspect the gem. San’s head cocks to the side in confusion.

“That is not the response I was hoping for, considering that I took it from your neck when I was undressing you.” He frowns, and your eyes widen in surprise.

“From me? As in, it was around my neck the whole time and I didn’t notice it?” You babble and San nods. He taps the largest silver leaf with a finger.

“Look at this carefully.”

There’s an inscription in the lid, beneath a carving of an elaborate swirl. You squint to make out the minuscule words.

I will be with you every step of the way.

You pause in shock at the revelation.

From before you lost your memories, from before you came to be in that tiny prison cell, you were not alone. If you just find the person who gave you this, you’ll know who you were before.

“You should keep it with you.” Gently, San takes the necklace from your hands and clasps it behind your neck. You’re silent in wonder, fingering the tiny crystal that nestles in the center of your chest. “Now, I should really go check on Wooyoung’s arm before he starts whining again.” He rises to his feet. “Do you have any last questions?”

“Is the captain really not going to throw me overboard?” You manage, gripping the tiny crystal in hand. At this, San really laughs.

“No. Although he did burn the Royal Navy coat you were wearing and tossed the ashes into the sea.” The healer replies as he plucks a small jar of ointment from a shelf. “If you give him no reason to kill you, he won’t.”

“Being alive seems to be reason enough to him.” You mutter unhappily under your breath, tucking yourself under the covers once more. Your eyelids are getting heavy once again. “The captain really hates the Royal Navy, doesn’t he? Why?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see San shrug as he pulls a leather sling bag over his shoulder. “He has good reason to, but it’s not my story to tell.”

Then he crosses over to you and tucks the blankets a little more securely around you. His grey eyes are soft.

“Go to sleep. I’ll come back and tend to you later.” San’s voice is gentle and melodic, like a lullaby.

You close your eyes, still clasping the small crystal in your hand. “Okay.” You murmur in reply, pulling the blanket closer around you. “Just for a while more, then.”

You don’t wake up till a day later.

[yandere-daydreams]

please please PLEASe give me some yandere azul, i've been waiting for such a long time for you to write for twst 🥺i feel like he'd be into doll or pet play but 👀

He wouldn’t be nearly as into it as some, but all of the dorm managers feel like they’d have /some/ kinda powerplay kink. Azul’s relies more on paperwork than it should, but I’m not here to judge.

Title: A Boon.

TW: Mind-Control (?), Extorsion, and Non-Consensual Touching.

~

You’d never been fond of the Octavinelle uniform.

It seemed fitting that you were wearing it, now, or... a version of it, at least. You’d seen the arrangement a thousand times, all the greys and blues and purples you’d come to know over your time in the company of the dorm’s occupants, and yet, you’d never really gotten used to the clashing colors, the pressed smoothness of the silk, the heaviness of too many layers and too little motivation to carry them. Heartslabyul’s was just as complicated, an array of pins and emblems and too much white for anyone’s good, but the fabric was light and airy and no one ever kept their jacket on for very long, not when Riddle turned his back. Azul made a few modifications to the set he’d given you, allowing lengths of familiar, forgiving skin to peek out where they shouldn’t, if you were trying to be practical, but the relief was numbed by the awareness of where you were, and more importantly, why you were there.

The former was more than obvious, but if your outfit was anything to go by, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the latter.

With a dry, reluctant swallow, you managed to tear your eyes from the tasseled ends of your lilac scarf to your hands, politely folded in your lap with a grip rigid enough to make your fingers sore. Azul had told you to wait in his private lounge, and so, you were waiting, you couldn’t do anything but wait. His command was absolute, albeit vague, and obeying his order was less your choice and more of a compulsion, a decision your body made before your mind did.

A door swung open in the distance, the lock clicking into place a moment later, but you were preoccupied, mentally racking over the portion of your agreement you could remember, the handful of Azul’s clauses that had been coherent. His magic thrived on misunderstandings and carelessness, but no one could be faulted for not fully comprehending the rambling, meaningless textbooks Azul called contracts. It was either a purposeful tactic, one meant to disconcert and deceive, or he was just too full of himself to think you’d--

“Still won’t spare me a second glance, (Y/n)?”

The sound of Azul’s voice made you jolt, despite knowing he’d entered more than a minute ago. Your head remained bowed, but your eyes snapped up, searching for the twins, another student, anyone he might’ve brought along to bear witness to your humiliation, but your only companion was his cold smirk, his identical shadows worryingly absent. That bothered you more than anything, if you were being honest. Being under his control was one thing, it was a fate half the academy had fallen to at some point, but being alone with him was another matter entirely. It made you feel isolated, captured, signaled out, a sentiment you tried to repress as you gathered the confidence to speak. “If I’m ignoring you, it’s not on purpose,” You said, shrugging half-heartedly. “It’s not my fault if you don’t make an effort to stand out.”

He pressed a hand to his heart as he fell onto the sofa across from you, a pout soon pulling at the corners of his lips. He gave himself time to settle against the arm of his couch, his chin soon propped on his fist and his disposition taking on a note of calm tranquility, as flat as the sea on a windless day. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and he chuckled, either attempting to lessen your unease or to show how delighted he was by it. You weren’t sure which you preferred. “You’re always so cruel to me, you know. Maybe if you made an effort to be a little nicer, you wouldn’t find yourself in so many difficult situations. Or, you wouldn’t force me to make myself one of your many, many villains, at least.” He paused, shaking his head, as much in resignation was it was in mockery. “Maybe that’ll be my first command - real command, I mean. Keep yourself out of trouble and stop hanging around all those little friends of yours that are so keen to pull you into theirs.”

You stiffened at the mention of another order. In hindsight, you’d been a moron to make a deal with Azul at all, let alone sign yourself into an arrangement so vague. You could barely even remember what you’d wanted, at this point, something unimportant - a test or a tournament or some project you were too stubborn to do on your own. You thought he’d been doing you a favor, you thought he’d been trying to help. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Azul’s only goal was to teach you not to trust people like him.

“Very funny,” You mumbled, crossing your arms and averting your gaze out of your own free will. “If you’re done proving how superior you are, you can tear up the contract, now. I’ve learned my lesson, I promise.” It was a grim sentiment, but you tried to chuckle, attempting to mirror his nonchalant demeanor. Like you two would still be friends, after this. Like you’d still trust him, after this. “If you needed another set of hands that badly, you could’ve just asked. Believe it or not, trickery isn’t the most effective recruiting method if you want a happy staff.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side, amusement suddenly heavy in his voice. “Tell me, angelfish, when did I say I was letting you go?”

You felt yourself pale. “What?”

That yearned a laugh. A hearty, throaty, arrogant laugh, as loud and as confident as everything else he’d ever saw fit to grace you with. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he pushed himself to his feet, beating in an unsteady, irregular pattern, one that only grew more erratic as Azul stepped behind you, leaning onto the leather loveseat and reaching down, letting his fingertips trace over your shoulder, your collarbone, the grey bow at your neck, his gloved hand lingering to toy with the accessory. Reflexively, you shifted, trying to pull away, but with a simple ‘stay’, you were frozen, unable to move despite your mind’s raging protests. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” He started, all of his faux-sympathy and stolen warmth suddenly gone. “It was bound to happen eventually. You’re so trusting, so naive, you should count yourself lucky someone as kind as me chose to take pity on you. I don’t plan on letting you get yourself in trouble, not while you’re under my control.” He bent down, lowering himself just enough to let his smile bite into your throat, his lips like acid against your skin. “I’m going to take care of you, and you’re going to be so, so thankful. You’ll have to be, once you see that this is for the best.”

You grit your teeth. You couldn’t move, but you could glare, even if your pursed lips and narrowed eyes only earned a slight coo and a soothing kiss to your jaw. “And if I don’t want your charity?”

“You’ll come around,” He assured, his teeth ghosting over your neck with every word.

“After all, I have plenty of time to show you how generous I can be.” 

[sserpente]

Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures--but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. The deal is a simple one: Become a recruit and help the Time Variance Authority fight time crimes to earn your freedom again eventually or die. Loki accepts the challenge. It would not be long until he could use their own weapons against them, after all. If only that, however, were his only concern. Least of all did he expect that with his reluctant arrival at TVA, a woman would step into his life and wreak havoc in his heart. He does not know what it is about her that he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey--but he is determined to find out.

A/N: Gaaaah, I haven’t nearly pre-written as many chapters as I would like to have pre-written before starting to post but I just can’t wait any longer! I finally want to share this story with you guys, I am so hyped about it! So, without further ado--enjoy the first chapter of “Pastel Blue”! I hope you like it! ♥

Chapter 1

Tick Tock. That clock on the wall was driving her crazy, it had been ever since she had been assigned to this dull office. She spent most of her time in the lab, working in midst of dangerous and highly sensitive equipment and delicate devices.

Tick Tock. She was going to smash it—with a big hammer, perhaps, or even better, a jackhammer. It was ugly too. Made of wood and obviously antique, late 18th century probably. What had Mobius been thinking?

Oh yeah, him. Mobius M. Mobius, her I-am-not-your-father-but-I-will-treat-you-like-my-daughter supervisor and babysitter, thank you very much. Granted, he was old enough to be her father, taking into consideration that in her mid-twenties, there wasn’t much need for a parental figure in her life anymore.

Tick Tock. She sighed. The pile of paperwork she had been handed this morning had seemingly not shrunk by even an inch. She could swear she had not been stalling today. Breakfast, work, lunch break, work… Tick Tock. She rolled her eyes. No. This was unreasonable. Grunting a few not so decent swear words, she gathered the spreadsheets and dozens of handwritten notes, sending the calming ruffling of paper through the air and exited the room without so much as thinking about what Mobius would think about her wandering places around the TVA during work hours again.

Besides, the kitchen and common room right around the corner of her desired destination was equipped with the best coffee machine modern technology had to offer. Hot chocolate with mint and a hint of vanilla? Oh yes, please!

At this time of the day, the lab in question was deserted. Pens, pliers and other small tools lay scattered all over the metal tables as if someone had just finished their work for the day. Some of the devices in here could cause major damage if activated accidentally or even at the wrong time. Now there was the thrill, the proximity to endless possibilities.

After turning a few laps around the tables to see if anything had changed or improved at all since the last time she was here (which would be yesterday), she eventually made herself comfortable at the huge desk fully equipped with a cup holder, sockets and a fancy table lamp. The chair was the best part, enabling her to swirl around whenever she felt like she needed a refreshing spin.

She had just pulled out her burrow from her hair, having twirled it around one of the lighter strands. Her guess was the sun had bestowed its warm kisses upon her chocolate brown hair in the summer. Leaning over her papers, she got back to work.

But it was only five minutes until she heard the heavy metal door with the see-through glass panel being pushed open, followed by someone clearing their throat.

“Jess, do you have a moment?” Mobius asked. Jess tilted her head, the slightest frown accompanied by a gentle smirk decorating her face. What, no chastising for changing work locations today? She swirled around on her chair, expecting to see the man in question in his grey suit and the signature scar across his nose stare her down with arms akimbo. Instead, he was holding on to the door tensely, right next to him, seemingly out of place in the threshold, a man with raven hair and the most stunning pair of blue eyes she had ever had the pleasure to lock her gaze with. Her eyes were blue as well—Loki’s, however, seemed to shimmer green in the artificial light of the lab. She didn’t get much daylight, all the way down here.

“M?” Jess smiled. She rose, ignoring the slight trembling of her knees as she approached the two, keeping a safe distance. Her heart skipped a beat with every single step, her chest resembling a magnet pulling her towards Loki like a powerless needle.

“I’ve told you, repeatedly, to stay in your own office.” Ah, there it was.

“I have asked you, repeatedly, to re-locate my office here.” She retorted with a smug expression, eyes darting over to Loki. Mobius shook his head. “An introduction is probably redundant. Jess, this is Loki.”

He was wearing the orange prison clothes TVA had manufactured a few years back. She had to admit, orange suited him rather well, bringing out his cheekbones and the dark hair framing his flawless face. His lips were thin, his jawline to die for. She would be lying if she denied his attractiveness. Loki was a god, after all. Most prominent to his appearance, however, were the shackles around his naked wrists and the metal collar hiding most of his long neck—a chunky but firm reminder his powers were all but a myth as long as the light was blinking bright red like a traffic light screaming stop at him like a sleep-deprived police officer.

Loki lifted his chin, allowing pride and confidence to flood his aura. Out of all the people he had encountered in this strange place so far, alterations of his very own self on an old-fashioned projector included, she was by far the oddest. Jess, so he learned, wore a colourful choker around her neck as well as two bracelets of the same kind. They reminded him of sugar pearls. If he had asked her about them, she could have revealed to him that they were indeed candy necklaces—and that she wore them because Mobius had stressed there were no edible snacks allowed at work. The elegant pieces of jewellery hanging down her earlobes, however, appeared to be non-edible. Two delicate silver charms, holding what Loki identified to be moonstones. They suited her, complementing the long brown hair and the outstanding colour of her eyes. Blue—just like his.

“The God of Mischief.” She completed, the fraction of a second after he had studied her conspicuous appearance. She added a court but polite nod. “I was kind of hoping to meet you one day.” And so she was. The rumours had spread across the entire facility like wildfire, reaching even the Minutemen based in different timelines. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, had stolen an Infinity Stone and escaped his respective timeline—a timeline reaching all the way back to 2012—creating a new branch of reality entirely. Unsupervised, he could have caused serious damage to the very fabric of time and the multiverse. He had to be stopped, had to be captured, had to be persuaded.

Mobius had expressed his interest in getting the infamous Trickster to work for him frequently. Loki was skilled, intelligent, witty, a talented fighter and most of all, one of the most capable users of magic the multiverse had to offer. His stories of victory and defeat were known to most of the TVA and yet, they resonated with her to an extent her colleagues could never fathom. Above everything Loki had had to experience—above all Loki will have had to experience—there was a thick layer of loneliness clouding his aura like a blanket of ice-cold snow. It was a suitable comparison, given his heritage.

“I didn’t just hear that.” Mobius intervened. He sized her up like an unpredictable teenager. “The God of Mischief has retired. Loki here has just agreed on working for us.”

“With you,” Loki interrupted. “Not for you. Reluctantly.” That would leave her wondering what exactly it was Mobius had offered him in return.

Jess chuckled. “Now that is a matter of opinion, trust me. I would know.” Raising an eyebrow, she gave Mobius a challenging glare.

“I need you to cover a shift.” He responded matter-of-factly. Jess’ eyebrow rose even higher. “Reese just jumped back from 1792.”

“And?”

“He almost made his personal acquaintance with the guillotine. They’re patching him up in the hospital wing right now.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jess took a step back, realising just what kind of favour, no, requirement Mobius would ask for. Reese had been in the TVA for more than three decades—he had not aged a day since his accession as a matter of fact—and his experience and excessive excitement over the Avengers had made him the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Loki while he was still not to be trusted—if he was ever going to be trusted, that was. He was the God of Mischief, after all.

“I’m on probation, remember? What makes you think I should cover for him of all people?” Loki rolled his eyes and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for excluding him from a conversation that was clearly about him.

“Call it an experiment. Prove to me that we can rely on you and I’ll end your probation.” Jess resisted the urge to shake his hand off her shoulder when he leaned forward to touch her in a fatherly manner.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” A Minuteman had appeared behind them. Jess had never quite figured out how they moved so quietly. Their shoe soles must have been made of feathers. In turn, the stilettos she usually wore to smuggle a few more inches to her height were loud and made satisfying noises ricocheting through the hallways when she walked, emitting confidence and even smugness. She needed that boost every once in a while.

Mobius nodded. As he released Jess’ shoulder and pushed past Loki—who did, much to her amusement, not move an inch for the senior manager—he pointed a finger at him. “Behave.”

The lab door fell shut behind him, drowning all noises from the outside like a soundproof recording room. Jess gaped at Loki for a second, her body once again threatening to overwhelm her with the magnetic pull she felt towards the Trickster, fascination setting her veins ablaze.

“You do not look human.” Loki suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jess pouted.

“Excuse me? I am hoping you meant that as a compliment, I am as human as I’ll ever be.” Loki frowned, then responded with a hum.

“I take it you hop timelines for him too then, fixing the damage others have done.”

“Me? No.” Jess shook her head. “I am not a Minuteman. I wish I was, trust me, but I have got nothing to do with that, unfortunately. I work in the linguistics department, spending all day translating protocols and time recordings from all sorts of languages. Now I know what you’re thinking. With its technology, shouldn’t TVA be able to translate everything using a smart computer program?” She shrugged. “Well, technically you’re right. But there’s a bunch of languages out there that simply don’t exist either here on Earth or any other known realm. We’re only human—and a computer program is only as smart as its creator. It can’t translate a language that does not consist of words, for example, that would go against the very human comprehension of its programmer.”

“Then how do you speak them?” Loki probed.

“That’s my superpower. I don’t know why I can understand them, I just… do. And what did it get me?” She raised her hands in a dramatic motion. “Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The only way for me to get in on the real action is this place here. Take a look at this.” Loki watched her move towards what resembled a toaster, shaped like a metal suitcase that had been left open. Smiling, she reached for a shining red apple on the table and placed it on the black surface before activating the switch. She had seen the scientists do this dozens of times before. In fact, she was sure she could handle most of the devices in here in her sleep. As the small machine hummed to life, it sent a deafening vibration through the room and then, just like someone had hit fast-forward with a remote, the apple shrivelled and rotted.

“Pretty cool, huh? It works the other way around too once it recharged. They haven’t figured out how to make it work for living beings, including humans, just yet, though. This is just a prototype anyway, the real thing is supposed to help re-animate the dead for a short amount of time to solve time crimes and shit. I swear I’d get a major in science if I lived another life. My father was one. Before he died, that is.” Jess wasn’t quite sure what made her open up to the God of Mischief and tell her about her personal family drama. She usually babbled when nervousness got the better of her but this was a new level of openness entirely. They all knew her story, after all, but apart from Mobius, they all pretended they didn’t. “You see? TVA is not all bad, even if it may seem so at first. M can be an arsehole sometimes, I know. He calls our main timeline in which everything began,” Jess continued with a dramatic voice, “the Null-Time Zone. I never figured out why and he won’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t listen, Jess.” Mobius answered, holding the door open with the Minuteman who had asked for his advice impatiently but mutely waiting for his turn again behind him.

“So?” She probed, pointing at the God of Mischief with her chin, her arms crossed. “If I am to play babysitter for a while, where am I staying? Where is Loki staying?”

“Your place.” Jess blinked, incredulousness spreading on her face like a clean swipe of butter on warm toasted bread.

“My place?”

“Your residential unit is supervised and equipped with modern alarm systems, just in case you decide to make trouble again, remember? We’ll position security outside the door in addition to that, killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it’s only temporary. Reese should be up and on his feet again in no time. The blade only grazed him before he made the jump back.”

“That does not sound reassuring!” Jess stood up straight to prove her point and yet, even compared to Mobius, she was nowhere near tall enough to make an impact with her body language at this time.

“You can take the rest of the day off as compensation. Show Loki to your unit. Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll send security to collect him in five minutes—to the second!”

 ~*~

She seems familiar almost… like part of me has known her forever. It was a thought which jumped into Loki’s mind and implanted itself in his head like a parasite. A mere mortal, how could there possibly be a connection between them? But it wasn’t just magnetic fascination and intrigue. Loki felt a need to keep her in his presence much like she was about to be his cherished bride. Irritation crept up the back of his neck as he followed her through the branched corridors and back to the modern lift he had had to use upon his arrival.

He would only love to know just what it was that had gotten her on probation. Abuse of machinery for her own selfish purposes, perhaps? A prank which had gone too far and done damage to the organisation? Murder? No. Despite her toughness, he could not imagine the delicate mortal standing next to him in the elevator being capable of killing anyone.

When the elevator doors slid open again, the young woman gave him an almost sheepish smile. She hardly appeared worried by having to escort him all on her own, across empty hallways which were only too inviting to overpower her and escape. Something held him back. She did, so he realised with another wave of irritation electrifying his body.

“…the most dangerous missions they usually leave to Justice Peace and Death’s Head. Ever heard of them? They are like celebrities around here.” He heard her say just then. But Loki couldn’t possibly take less interest in this so-called Time Variance Authority. All he needed to know was that it was yet another, partially human-led secret organisation imagining with the naivety of a child that they held power over him. SHIELD had made this mistake in the past and they had paid the bitter price. TVA would be no different.

“The units here are labelled with our initials and the department number. This one.” Jess pointed at the first door coming into sight to their right and quite apparently, Mobius had not made any empty promises concerning Jess’ safety and surveillance. As they turned around the corner, they were greeted by a grimly looking security officer clutching one of those small devices Loki identified as a Taser, one which of the like Darcy Lewis had once used on his brother. He kept a straight face even as Jess unlocked the residential unit using her fingerprint and entered but gave him a provocative smirk before following her.

His own chambers back on Asgard—another life entirely, so it seemed now—were a reflection of who he was with their green accents, the countless books, the tidiness and the ancient parchment rolls on his dark mahogany desk from Vanaheim. If anything, analysing her personal living space to the very last grain of dust would satisfy his need to learn just why he felt so drawn her, perhaps.

The first item of furniture he took in was the long bookshelf towering all the way up to the ceiling, every inch filled with clearly read books about as thick as his wrist. He made a note to study the titles later. A coffee table full of empty peanut shells and a new package of peanuts still sealed neatly in their plastic bag, a caramel sofa on which he found more sealed peanut bags as well as a golden cushion with cheesy pom-poms. A drawer, a TV with large speakers and another electronic gadget resembling a fridge and two separate doorways which led to a bathing area, so he presumed, and her bedroom. Even with the overall lack of more furniture in the room, Jess had somehow managed to add her very own personal touch to the sterile residential unit.

“The bathroom is to the right, you’ll find refreshments and snacks in the fridge next to the TV. My bedroom is out of bounds. I hope you enjoyed the tour.” She chuckled, grabbing a blue leather jacket from the hook on the entrance door behind them. “Big meals are eaten in the cafeteria at certain times of the day though. Mobius wants to strengthen the team spirit but the cooks never say no to a late breakfast or a midnight snack if you ask them nicely.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner in this place?” A lackey for someone else to take the credit for your hard work, he added silently. He knew two of that kind—one being his brother, the other his alleged father. Loki suppressed a begrudged growl. Just in that moment and before she had a chance to reply to his provocative remark, there was a vigorous knock on the door.

“That’ll be your cue.” Jess announced. Loki had to force himself not to turn his head and catch one last glimpse of her as the grimly looking security man escorted him back to Mobius and, other than Jess, kept pushing him forward like cattle and yet, he was convinced he could feel her curious gaze resting on his back long after he had turned back around the corner, stepped into the elevator and even when he was reluctantly reunited with Mobius near the lab where they had first picked her up.

He was speaking to the same Minuteman who had interrupted them earlier—quietly, vividly and so engrossed in the seemingly heated conversation that he noticed Loki and his new bodyguard approaching only after his exceptional hearing had picked up shreds of information he made another mental note of using against them, sooner rather than later.

“You do realise that they’ll come after us with a vengeance, right? That could be the end of TVA once and for all, you know very well what he is capable of.”

“Let that be my concern. This is just a temporary solution—one which I am very curious about.”

“But it already—“

“I realise it already happened and that’s exactly why I’m doing this. All we need to do is stop it from happening again by observing the situation intently, stitch up the loop and we’ll be safe. This isn’t my first rodeo, Dave, you of all people should know this.”

“And what about the Tesseract? Wouldn’t it be smarter if we—“

The security officer cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.

“The Tesseract,” Loki interrupted with a glare, strutting towards them like the king he was born to become and despite his shackles, “belongs to me. It called out to me, it is mine.”

“You’ll find a lot of people in this facility who will disagree with you on that. Trust me. We’ll make sure you won’t get your hands on that cube again.” Dave snorted. “I hope you like your new lodging. Now come on, mischief maker. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

A/N: And Scene! So what do you think, what do you think, what do you think? 🤯 I’m so excited to dive into this story! I literally recorded myself on my phone in the middle of the night a while back when all the ideas I had finally came together so I hope I’ll be taking you on an exciting journey with me!

Chapter 2

[misterewrites]

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha 

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

[inactive-luv]

Normal

normal

normal

TW: depression, gender dun dUN DUN

word count: 2216

a/n: i’ve got a lot more gender neutral Spencer Reid fics loading :P

(Spencer's POV)

On a normal day, I would set my alarm for five in the morning and wake up slowly. I'd pour a cup of coffee and make myself some toast. I take a shower and brush my teeth and maybe listen to an audiobook on my way to work. I got this recommendation from Garcia, Ready Player One. I listened to the narrator's voice at a pace 'normal' people would read.

A part of me always felt self-conscious about myself, how I was different compared to everyone else. My mom called me special but that just made things worse. Special still sounds like there was something wrong with me. And that was just my I.Q, later on, I constantly got made fun of for the way I dressed, how I wasn't 'normal' enough. Never 'masculine' enough.

I haven't had a normal day in months. I started to wake up naturally around three am, if I ever slept. My thoughts kept me awake, thinking about the insults and taunts I got. I lay in bed most days. I told Hotch I was sick and stayed in a comatose state for most of the day. I would stare at the ceiling and wonder about myself.

I couldn't do anything. I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't use the bathroom. The thought of having to stand up in front of the toilet. Washing my hands in a men's restroom, everything just made me sick. I hadn't gone to work in a week. It sounds odd but I didn't feel safe there. Work used to be where I could concentrate and use my abilities to my advantage, I watched and analyzed people's emotions for a living but now, it became so hard to think about myself.

I felt exposed in the workplace, at home I felt more comfortable using my own bathroom and I could wear my own clothes. I felt like someone else in the bullpen, someone different. Having to hear my name makes me feel imaginary. I didn't feel real in my body.

Getting out of bed this morning exhausted me. I dragged my feet across the wood and looked down at my sweater. The temperature in my house was always hot, something with the thermostat, but I couldn't stand looking at my own skin. I wore a thick sweater and a robe on top of it, long pajama pants and big socks. I knew I had to take off these clothes if I wanted to go to work today. I really did, I missed my friends, I missed having to do something.

Having a purpose meant a lot to me. I lost sight of what I was meant to do with my life, I would just mope around my apartment without doing anything and I still felt exhausted. I hated being here, I needed to do something. I couldn't just stay here for the rest of my life. I so desperately wanted my normal life again, but I couldn't even think about stepping outside my house.

I hate thinking about having to do normal things. I hated using public restrooms and wearing my normal clothes. Life becomes meaningless if you can't even look at yourself in the mirror.

A while back I put towels over all of my mirrors, this morning I lifted the one in my bedroom. I looked at myself for the first time in a long time. I looked at my eyes, the bags underneath them screamed tired and disgusting. My whole face looked blue and purple. I saw the veins in my neck, and when I touched them I winced.

Taking a deep breath, I started to remove the robe in front of me. I watched the fabric fall to the floor when I felt the ends of my sweater. A burst of energy filled my gut and flooded through my veins, causing me to haphazardly lift the shirt fully over my head and shimmied my pants off. I felt angry. Angry at myself for not being able to do the easiest things. And sad watching my body shake and my skin crawl.

I forced myself to stare at my chest. I stared long and hard at the flat shape and bare skin. I started to run my hand over my abdomen and I could feel my ribs protrude out of my skin. Tears started to fill my eyes when I glazed over my underwear. I could see the outline of my legs and the thought of what was between them made me sick. I felt like throwing up.

I rushed to the bathroom and clutched at the sides of the toilet. I quickly thought about all of the germs and bacteria and immediately lunged away from the seat. I washed my hands five or six times until my skin curled underneath the stream. I splashed the water on my face and began to sob. I ran my hands over my face and my eyes tinged from the tears.

When my hands roamed their way back to my chest I fell to the floor in a mixture of emotions. I felt depressed, gross, I felt cheated in my own flesh and blood. I felt contained to the bottom of my bathroom sink. The tears relaxed and I started to slowly lift myself off of the cold tile.

I wobbled back to my bedroom and tried to open my drawers. I reached for a dotted shirt and slowly buttoned the clothes on myself. With each button, I sniffed and let out a heavy sigh. I wanted to change my underwear but every time I slid my fingers past the waistband I cringed. I couldn't bring myself to look past my abdomen.

I just tried to pull on a pair of work pants without my eyes and slide a brown belt through the loops. I stared at myself in the dresser mirror and reached for another layer to put on over my body, a brown cardigan. I wanted to smile. I tried to force the corners of my lips to move upward but they only drooped a little lower. I swallowed my tongue and went to get my coat.

...

I walked into the lobby and saw people walking throughout the halls, I felt so out of place. I slowly slumped up to the elevator and pressed the button. It was halfway through the workday, a little after lunch. It was raining so hard outside I could hear it through the elevator walls, I heard the pat pat pat just outside the floors and I started to feel thirsty. I hadn't drunk much water in public because I didn't want to have to use a public bathroom. It wasn't a problem until one day I had to be sent to the emergency room.

I got nervous as the elevator doors began to open. I lifted my head and was relieved not to meet anyone as I stepped out. A sore feeling manifesting itself in my throat. I look up to see everyone in the conference room. I barely catch Rossi's eye when I start to walk up to the bullpen. Soon I can feel everyone's eyes on my back when I rest my bag on the edge of my seat.

J.J. walks out of the room to wave me over. I watch her walk back into the room, I look at her heels and her pretty blouse. I think back to what I'm wearing and feel gross. Why do I keep stressing about these sorts of things? Morgan doesn't worry about how he's dressed. Hotch doesn't care about shoes or what he has to wear. Rossi was the one who probably cared the most and even he didn't notice the things I do.

I rush up the stairs noticing how everyone is waiting on me. My pace slows down as I get closer and closer to the threshold of the conference room. "Hey, pretty boy's here!" I clench my jaw at the sound of that nickname. My stomach turns inside out and I think about just running out of the room and heading back home, or anywhere but here. "Why don't you sit down we were just starting." Garcia tries to talk to me in her sweet voice. I missed her so much, I missed everyone.

"No thank you," I whisper. I hadn't spoken words out loud in a long time. I don't talk to myself and I hadn't seen anyone else in days. I clear my throat gaining a sliver of strength from the anger in my gut. "No thank you I," I start stronger before pausing mournfully again, "I think I need to say a few things before I come back, officially. C- can you all please sit down." I choke in my breath and all of their faces turn worried when they look at me.

"Uhm, I know I haven't been here in a while but uhm," I turn my head to the floor, "I want to be able to come back, I do, and I uh," It gets really hard to talk without tearing up. I swallow hard when J.J tries to pat my arm, I don't mean to but I flinch and try to push her hand away. "I can't come back until," I'm afraid I'll start hyperventilating, "God I'm sorry." I move my hands up to my face and wipe away a few tears before swallowing and whispering again. "I can't come back until I figure out what's wrong with me."

"Kid there's nothing wrong with you-" "Yes there is! I- I- I can't sleep! I can't get dressed by myself! I can't even use the bathroom without feeling sick!" The words pool out of my mouth in a harsh tone and J.J. steps back when I flail my arms, "I can't look at myself in the mirror," Tears stream down my cheek when I turn my face around the room. "I need things to be different around here." Even Hotch's expression turns saddened and weak.

"I-" I choke and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. " I hate the name 'pretty boy'." I try to turn my eyes from Derek who's leaned over to see my expression, "I hate being referred to as 'Sir' or 'Mr.'" I bite my quivering top lip and draw my eyes back to the floor. "I hate hearing," I pause and clear my throat again thinking it would help stop my cracking voice, "he did this or it was him who," I sniff looking at Garcia whose eyes are also filled with tears.

"I'm not comfortable," I whisper and Emily gapes her mouth as if to say something then closes it rubbing her nose instead. "I haven't been comfortable for a long time. I don't know what I am anymore." The word 'what' sticks in the air for a minute before J.J. tries to pat my arm again and I let her. She eases in to hold me and I shut my eyes to stop sobbing.

"I- I- need," I start before shaking my head, "I'd like people to treat me differently." I furrow my brow thinking what to say next, "I looked online," I wipe my face again trying to slide J.J away from me, "and all the labels really scared me but uhm," I pause again "I think I'd like to try something I've been pushing down for a while." Rossi nods his head.

I feel awkward standing in front of all of these people, my friends. Years ago I could trust them with my life but now I felt so exposed and broken. I was scared of how they were going to react, I felt like screaming in my stance and running out of the room crying. I muttered out the first words before shaking my head and trying again. "I think," I clear my throat again, "I want to try different," I look at the group, averting my eyes off the floor while the edges of my lips curl into a saddened smile, before whispering the last word, "Pronouns."

I see Emily mutter a small "Oh," and Morgan's face turns confused. I slump into a hunched position and continue to cry softly when people start nodding their heads looking up at me. "Well," Hotch starts and people start to look at him. "I think that what you're asking for is," He pauses looking to the group then back at me.

"Perfectly reasonable and we will do or call you whatever you want" They all nod and mutter incoherent words. "Yes, yes of course we can." Garcia stammers wiping tears from her eyes looking at me from across the room. "What, uhm what would you like?" She asks rubbing her hands together, "To, you know," she shakes her hands before wiping more tears from her face.

I smile for the first time in weeks. It's not a toothy smile or a cheek to cheek grin but, it makes me feel safe knowing I can still do the things I used to. Come into work and smile. I catch my sighs and draw in a deep breath before looking at Garcia, "They/them." And the rest of the team smiles too.

...

[rolandtowen]

Dumbass Romantics, the first part of a series exploring the ways in which Sokka and Zuko falling in love after the War. 

Sokka and Zuko seem to keep “accidentally” flirting with each other with romantic gestures from their respective cultures. It takes a while for everyone else (and them!!) to catch on. Set a few months after the end of the war, featuring chronic pain and cultural flirting.

Read it under the cut!

The Fire Lord hated the cold. He supposed he should have commissioned a fur cloak before visiting Katara and Sokka, but where could his tailors find fur on such short notice? He couldn’t bring himself to slaughter dozens of squirrel-toads just for one coat. He had settled on a cloak woven with extra koala-sheep wool, but stepping out of his ship’s warmth now and into the crisp air of the Southern Water Tribe, Zuko knew he should have heeded Sokka’s advice to him to dress warm.

The cold was a bitch. But thankfully, he didn’t have to dwell on it long.

“Zuko!” Came Katara’s voice from somewhere below him. Zuko hurried down the rampart and came to meet his old friend. He went to bow formally, but she laughed and pulled him in for a hug. “Maybe save the bowing for when we have dinner with the old folks tonight.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow.

“Oh! It’s nothing big – just my Dad, Bato, Kanna, and Pakku. I do hope you’ve worked up an appetite for stewed sea prunes, that’s all my Dad can make without blowing the kitchen up – unless you’re allergic to sea prunes, of course, but I guess you wouldn’t know yet seeing as you’ve never tried them—”

“Katara,” Sokka’s voice startled Zuko a little bit, coming from his left side. Zuko shifted his head so he could hear him better. “You’re rambling again. Let the man breathe!” Zuko let out a low chuckle and turned to fully face Sokka.

“It’s good to see you too, Sokka.”

“And you, jerkbender! Spirits, aren’t you cold? I told you bring layers!”

The trio started to walk towards Katara and Sokka’s village. Zuko pondered what he should say: admit weakness and say he was, in fact, cold; or be miserable for the rest of his visit in silence?

“I’m okay, it’s just that the Fire Nation hasn’t ever had a need to make warm clothing. My tailors wouldn’t even know where to start on finding fur for a cloak.”

“Well then,” Sokka said, “it’s lucky for you that we have polar leopards!” And with that, Sokka unclipped the fur-lined cloak he was wearing and draped it over Zuko’s shoulders, fastening the metal clips with practiced ease. Zuko was shocked.

“Sokka, I can’t take your cloak!” He protested, stopping in his tracks.

“Relax, jerkbender, there’s more where that came from. When are you going to learn to dress up for your visits, dork?”

Katara chimed in. “The last time Zuko was here, his body temperature was elevated by his righteous search for the Avatar. I’m sure peace and love have probably cooled your hot head off quite a bit, huh?”

Zuko only hummed, looking down at the cloak that had been thrust upon him. It really was, quite warm. And quite intricate as well! He ran his fingers over the moon phases embroidered at the seams, a striking white against the deep blue of the cloak.

“Enjoying my handiwork?” Katara asked.

“Yeah, I am.” Zuko answered in a daze.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell them what it meant in Fire Nation culture, to place your own cloak on another’s shoulders, to literally and figuratively place another under your protection. Really, Zuko couldn’t remember the last time he had been given anything as a gift. Charity was not a concept Ozai was familiar with. Sokka couldn’t have possible known that what he just did was like the Fire Nation equivalent of a betrothal necklace. Still, it did leave Zuko touched that Sokka would so willingly give over such a valuable garment. He decided to leave the matter alone and revel in the warmth of the cloak.

“Sooooooooo, do you wanna go fishing together?”

Zuko sighed. He was a little bored. When they got back to the village, Katara had immediately ditched them to go help Kanna and Hakoda prep for the night’s family dinner. Leaving him and Sokka to do…. whatever until dinner time rolled around.

“Uh, I don’t really know how to fish—”

“That’s alright! I can teach you. Just grab your cloak!” Sokka leapt up and swept out the door. “You are coming, right?” Sokka called from afar.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Zuko hollered back. He fiddled with the clasp on Sokka’s – er, his cloak—and stepped back into the cold.

Sokka was at the edge of the village, spears in hand. “You ever been on a kayak before?”

Zuko chuckled. “No, the ships I’ve been tend to carry more than one person, I don’t suppose you’ve got one of those?”

Sokka punched him in the shoulder. “We can’t use one of the warrior’s boats, we’ll scare the fish!” Oh. That made sense. “Now I get it, you really don’t know anything about fishing, do you? What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Two things: one, prince; two, fire nation. We much prefer Komodo sausage to seal jerky.”

“Well, your hotness, let me show you how it’s done.” Sokka hopped into one kayak, patting the one next him. “I assume you at least know how to use a paddle?”

Zuko laughed. “I may have been an adrift refugee once or twice. I think I can handle a paddle.”

“Good,” Sokka smiled at him as he climbed into the one-seater kayak. Zuko took a few moments to adjust to the shift in his center of gravity, then nodded at Sokka.

“Let’s catch some fish.”

It turns out, Zuko is not a natural at spear-fishing. He watched closely the first few times Sokka threw his spear, bringing up fish each time. “Go on, try it,” Sokka encouraged him. Zuko looked into the depths and tried to aim for the blurry shadows he took to be fish. His spear came up empty. “That’s okay! It took me a few fishing trips before I really go the hang of it.” Sokka analyzed his form. “Make sure you extend your arm a bit before your release the spear, then you can change your angle more easily.”

Zuko nodded, mirroring the way Sokka was holding his spear. They waited in silence, kayaks knocking gently into each other on the waves. A fresh school of fish appeared underneath them, and they released their spears at the same time. This time, even Zuko had caught a fish! Only one, compared to Sokka’s two, but it was his first fish! Sokka smiled widely at him. “I knew you could do it.”

“I guess I should call you Sifu Sokka now, my fishbending master.” Zuko quipped.

Sokka blushed and he hoped the gathering snow hid it from Zuko. “I think we should probably get back; you don’t want to miss Dad’s stewed sea prunes.

“Definitely not.” Zuko replied. “What, what does one do with a fish once they’ve caught it?”

“It depends – I think it being your first fish, we should celebrate it! What do you say to making some boiled fish dumplings?”

“I think that if you’re teaching me, it’ll be wonderful.”

If it was even humanly possible, Sokka blushed harder.

When they docked their kayaks, Zuko noticed that Sokka was favoring one of his arms over the other. Normally, it wouldn’t be strange to see a person favoring a side, but Zuko knew Sokka was ambidextrous. He didn’t say anything, so Zuko kept his observations to himself. Kanna met them outside her home, and positively beamed when Sokka told her that Zuko had caught his first fish.

“Well, better a late bloomer than never, eh?” Zuko laughed but still bowed his head in deference.

“It is very nice to finally meet you, Lady Kanna. Sokka has told me much about you in your letters.”

“Oh, he has, has he?” Kanna gave a mean side-eye to Sokka, who was suddenly very interested in the icy ground. “He’s told me about you as well. You have my gratitude – I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t gone to the Boiling Rock.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady Kanna.”

“Just Kanna, just Kanna, my dear. Well, come in! I see Sokka has leant you a cloak, but you still must be freezing! In, in!” Kanna shooed them inside. “I will take special care of your first fish, Zuko. Anything you had in mind?”

“Uh, dumplings?”

“Excellent choice, dear. Fish dumplings coming right up!” She disappeared into the kitchen of the home.

Sokka sat down on floor, covered by blue fabrics and pelts. Zuko noticed how gingerly he set himself down, now obviously favoring his right side. Sokka’s lips were drawn tightly as he rubbed circles into his left shin. Zuko could have almost swore he heard Sokka whimper. Almost.

“Sokka,” Zuko knelt down next to his friend. “Talk to me.”

“Mmph,” Sokka scowled.

“Words, Sokka.”

“It’s mostly my leg—you know how I broke it on the day of the Comet?”

Zuko grimaced. He did remember. Even in his lightening-induced fever, Zuko remembered. He heard his physicians set Sokka’s leg and pop his shoulder back in place. He wanted to forget those sounds of Sokka in pain, but he couldn’t.

“Well,” Sokka continued. “Ever since then, it still… it still hurts. Katara’s tried everything, but I’m probably stuck with it forever. My leg hurts the worst, but my shoulder’s the most inconvenient. I’m old enough to start putting braids in my wolf tail, but I just—can’t. I can’t lift my arm above shoulder-level. And I know I’m wallowing to the guy who literally got half his face burned off but—”

“But nothing, Sokka. You’re allowed to be in pain. Here, you know what, pull up your pant leg—”

“Geez, buy a guy dinner first will you?”

Zuko blushed but Sokka did as he was told, exposing his left shin and ankle. Zuko focused a little bit of heat into the palms of his hands. He placed one on Sokka’s ankle, scanning his face for any pain. When Sokka relaxed into the touch, Zuko placed his other hand on Sokka’s shin, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“You know, with those hands you could almost be a healer like Katara.”

Zuko snorted. “And you need to learn to let people help you.” After a few minutes, he pulled his hands away, fearing that if he kept them there too long he’d burn his friend. “If you want, I can help you braid your hair. I won’t even tell Katara.”

Sokka smiled shyly at him. He guessed Zuko didn’t know the importance of braiding another’s hair in water tribe culture—reserved for family members and, well, lovers. But Zuko was kneeling in front of him, in a water tribe cloak, offering to help him with a warrior tradition. After everything they’d been through, Zuko was family—and maybe, he could be open to being something more?

“Okay,” Sokka nodded. He pulled two beads from his pocket, both striking shades of blue, one carved by Kanna and one by Katara. “You know how my Dad wears his beads? It’s the same idea.”

“I caught my first fish today, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I can’t do now.” Zuko settled himself closer to Sokka’s face. “I’m going to let your hair down now, is that okay?” Sokka nodded again.

Zuko took out the hair tie and separated two sections of hair thick enough to support the beads. For lack of another set of hands, he resorted to holding the sections in his mouth while he carded the rest of Sokka’s back into place and tied it into the wolf’s tail again. Sokka was suddenly very aware of how close Zuko was to him—more specifically how he never wanted him to leave. He loved the warmth that radiated from him, but furthermore, he couldn’t remember the last time someone helped him with his hair. He hadn’t asked anyone since he got back from the war, and while they were on the run… he was focused on more important things than his hair. Sokka risked a look at Zuko’s face: he was rewarded with Zuko’s adorable concentration face. Wait, adorable? Where had that come from?

“How do you know how to braid, anyway? I didn’t see a whole lot of braids in the Fire Nation.”

“My mother used to let me braid her hair when I was feeling anxious or overwhelmed. You know, it’s calming, repetitive, doesn’t involve fire—perfect for mess of emotional issues like me.”

“Hey, you’re not a mess.”

Zuko laughed darkly.

“Well, not anymore than the rest of us. We all already had our own issues and then a war happened on top of that. You were just lecturing me on letting people help me. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Zuko’s fingers trembled as he finished the second braid. “I know. I’m still getting used to having people I can actually trust.”

Kanna suddenly called from the kitchen. “Are you two done lounging around or are you going to help an old woman with this fish?”

They looked at each other and laughed. They did kind of forget about everyone except each other.

“Hey, Zuko,” Sokka started as Zuko stood up and held out a hand for him.

“Yeah?”

“You can braid my hair anytime you want.”

Zuko resisted simultaneous urges to bow and to hug Sokka. He smiled instead.

“I’d like that.”

Bonus:

Kanna had heard everything of course. But she couldn’t bear to interrupt them sooner. Tui and La, if those two didn’t end up together she’d have a riot. In the few months since Sokka had been home with her, he hadn’t opened up to anyone about his pain. And he certainly hadn’t asked anyone for help with his braids.

Spirits, those two were good for each other. Dumbasses in love.

[catwithangerissues]

week three is here‼️‼️ how have you been? can i request makki + 2am? tysm💕

I’ve been good, thank you for asking🥺 I had a rough week last week, but I’m so happy it’s over😅 Anyways! The new prompt for the weekly event😈 Saddle in, buckle up, whatever the fuck else and get ready for a wild ride because holy shit

2:18 am- read the neon numbers.

You’d been hard at work the previous day, but before your eyes cover fully shut and you could let sleep overtake you, a pang resonated from your window. You recognized it immediately as Makki, your best friend of many years.

He’d snuck over to your house for the billionth time, launching a rock at your window after seeing the light in your bedroom was still on. After you’d opened the window and given him a good chop to the head and a small speech about how he was gonna pay for your broken window one of these days, you both, laughing, made your way to your regular skating spot.

You and Makki had once decided to spontaneously take a trip to the edge of town gas station that had a small, usually empty parking lot. It was a normal occurrence for the two of you now, the regular night clerk recognizing you both immediately, offering a small wave like usual. The familiarity of it all made you smile.

The fluorescent neon lighting shown on the grubby pavement, dozens of moths flickering around the bright lights above. The empty parking lot filled with laughter, random curses, the harsh scuffing of sneakers on skateboards and concrete, and the dull hum and hiss of the neon awning lights. The sky was dark, with hints of purple complimenting the yellow tinged moon.

It was slightly chilly out, and you regretted not changing into more suitable clothing for your late night skateboarding with the strawberry head. Not without a sly smirk and a sarcastic pick up line, he offered you his sweatshirt, seeing as you were cold, and he always wore an extra layer because he knew you’d forget to consider the weather- he enjoyed seeing you wear his clothes, and often found himself purposely leaving them around your house when he’d stay over. You almost always wore something of his or had something in your car, and it never failed to make him crack a huge grin.

You gladly accepted, like always, pulling the warm, sweet smelling fabric over your head.

You’d both taken a break from your skating to head inside the station and grab as many snacks as your arms could fit, or at least that’s what it felt like. The clerk made his routine comment about how he swears you two never eat real meals, resulting in your collective laughter.

Heading back to your usual sitting spot on the curb of the parking lot, the same spot where Makki had spent ages carving a middle school style drawing of a dick in the concrete, you both began munching on your snacks and laughing your asses off as you watched Makki nearly fail at shotgunning a can of whatever was cheap. He spilt part of it on his shirt, but it wasn’t enough for him to care.

After what felt like an eternity of talking about both your days, work, school, life in general, and that super annoying coworker that always made work feel like you were walking in Hellfire- you found yourself leaning on the strawberry headed boys shoulder. He routinely wrapped an arm around you, lightly laying his hand on your waist. It was comfortable silence for a few moments, this was normal for the two of you.

He laid his cheek against the top of your head, leaning back on his other hand to keep you both steady. You felt your eyes close, and Makki took notice, choosing to admire your peaceful features. He gently fiddled with your hair, feeling his heart strings tug and twist as he felt the softness. He had been head over heels for you for so damn long now, but he’d been too much of a coward to finally confess to you. Mattsun, another of your close friends, had told him countless times over the years that you felt the same way, but he never could shake the feeling of his anxiety. What if he lost you? What if you rejected his feelings and nothing was the same? What if you two would grow distant?

He had a million questions running through his head- maybe it was the tiredness getting to him, maybe it was bravery, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop the words spilling from his lips in that moment. He had to tell you, and you looked so perfect right now. Now was the time, he wouldn’t brush it off with fake confidence and a smirk, he was going to face you.

Your opened your eyes slowly, feeling his breath hitch, you raised your head to face him, only a few inches away from each other. Cocking a eyebrow, you asked him if he was just making a stupid joke again- you always felt your heart squeeze whenever he’d brush off his flirty comments as a joke, so you really hoped that for once, he wasn’t kidding.

He wasn’t, and neither of you could really believe what he said. You sat there, staring at your best friends face intently, and you felt your heart race at the distance between you.

In a surge of bravery, you placed your hands on either side of the boys cheeks, pulling him to meet you halfway for a -probably a little too passionate for an empty gas station parking lot at almost 3am- kiss.

Pulling away after what felt like not long enough, you both stilled again. Shock evident on both your faces. Did you really just do that? It was a question running through both your heads, but you found yourself mirroring the smile on his face after you came back to your senses.

“Well that’s one way to say you feel the same way.” With another one of his signature smirks, you both laughed. It was genuine, though. Intense happiness surging through both of you.

You spent the next few hours laying on the pavement, looking at the sky, nuzzled into Makki’s side. Content was the only word you could use to describe how you felt in that moment.

✨Tag list: @toworuu @sunalma

🌱THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT DRABBLE NOT A FUCKING BOOK WTF KITTY. Sorry, not sorry, I love Makki😌 hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of life that I love oh so much😌