#Sigh. Once again I’ve put a bunch of effort into something that was supposed to be silly so I didn’t push the expressions as much as I want

[bonemeal12]

Some self indulgent bg3 fanart… I never want to render armour ever again.

[halstudandruz]

Research Purposes (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Bearded Jay Smut

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

A/N: I know the timeline is off but just go with it.

Sitting at the bar, you couldn’t help where your eyes wandered across the room. You were at Trudy and Mouch’s wedding, and even though it was a joyous occasion you were kind of ready to go home from the start. The night before you had discovered your ex-fiancé and the new girl in intelligence were dating, and it was safe to say you were drowning in your sorrows. You and Adam had been broken up for almost a year, but you still loved him and in the back of your mind you just hoped time would give you both the perspectives you needed and you would be back together. You had no right to be upset, but you were having trouble convincing yourself of that. The night was starting to wind down, as you downed a shot. You had held it together for Trudy wanting her to have the best day ever, but since they had left a few minutes prior you were ready to get drunk enough you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You know the longer you sit still the harder it’s gonna hit when you stand.” Jay teased sliding in next to you.

“Good.” You sighed, turning around to take another drink.

“Well in an effort to ensure I don’t have to carry you out of here would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to you. Contemplating for a minute he smiled when you took a hold of his hand following him out to the dance floor. Frank Sinatra played in the background while his hands slowly moved to rest on your hips. You and Jay were friends. You worked together and were around each other a lot. You got along well, and you weren’t afraid to admit he was an attractive guy, but you had always been locked in on Adam. So, your friendship never even toed the line. You never even thought about it, until tonight.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you found out.” Jay whispered into your ear looking down at you.

“Found out about what?” You eyed him curiously until he nodded towards where Hailey and Adam sat laughing together.

“Wait..you know?” He nodded, “How long has it..?”

“I only found out a week or two ago so it probably hasn’t been that long.” He shrugged,“How’d you find out?” He continued. Sighing your hands rested on his chest.

“Today was actually supposed to be Adam and I’s wedding day. Before we decided to push it. So, I kind of went down a dark hole after the rehearsal dinner and went to see him. When he answered the door I saw her come out of his room.” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh fuck. What’d you do?” He pried.

“I made some excuse about not being able to find something I needed for today so I thought I might’ve accidentally left it there when I moved out or left or whatever. I was just going to leave, but then I had to pretend to look for it, and when I went into his room a bunch of her stuff was there. You know in the dresser I used to use.” You recounted the night before swallowing hard.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head pulling you closer as he moved a hand to rub your back.

“Yeah it wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve been avoiding him all day,” you chuckled blinking tears away, “How are you feeling about it?” You looked up at him hoping to shift the focus off you.

“What do you mean? Why would I care?” He masked.

“Come on Jay.” You scoffed giving him a look.

“I don’t have any say in what or who she does.” He said.

“How do you let it roll off you so easily? Not let it bother you?” You wondered.

“I want her to be happy, and wishing that I was the one over there isn’t going to do anything for either of us.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have fun too right?” He continued.

“I don’t know. I guess.” You replied.

“You do, and that is why you’re out here dancing with me.” He smiled, spinning you effortlessly, causing you to laugh. You and Jay would spend the next hour talking and dancing letting your minds push away the two people across the room.

Jay and you were caught up in conversation, your bodies practically up against each other causing heat to surface on your face at the feeling of his hands holding you close. His tie now hung loosely on his shoulders, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open, and his sleeves had been rolled up allowing you to see the veins throughout them. You had never realized how attractive he actually was until you were this close, eyes counting the freckles that covered his face.

“Incoming.” he mumbled looking over your shoulder; breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Adam walking towards you.

“No no no.” You whined hands gripping Jay’s shoulders tighter. Adam clearing his throat when he reached you,

“May I cut in?” He asked, looking between the two of you. A glint of confusion present in his face. Jay’s eyes shifted from him to you, registering your panic of having to face him right now.

“Uh actually I just offered to take her home. We were just heading out.” Jay attempted to save you.

“Oh well we’re going to be going right past your place we could just drop you off so Jay doesn’t have to go out of his way, and I’d actually really like to talk to you for a sec-“ Adam started to grab your hand.

“No it’s all good. No big deal. I already promised her I would.” Jay stepped slightly in front of you.

“Yeah I’m just going to go grab my coat and say bye to Sylvie. See you on Monday.” You pointed walking off to leave Adam and Jay alone on the dance floor. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled softly when Jay fell back by your side.

“He shouldn’t get what he wants all the time.” Jay shrugged.

“So is the ride offer actually on the table?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiled helping you put your jacket on before pulling his on and heading out to his truck.

Walking outside you had made it almost to his truck ensuring you were far enough away from the door that people wouldn’t be watching before grabbing onto his arm to stop him. This could be a terrible, horrible idea, but that thought didn’t seem to over power your want.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face you where you leaned against the brick wall.

“You know I had every intention of waking up tomorrow either horribly hungover, or in someone else’s bed, and considering you prevented the latter..” You trailed off looking up at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I’ve been holding out, hoping for something to change with him. I’m done waiting around.” You admitted weakly.

“I don’t want to just be some outlet to make Adam jealous.” He shook his head.

“This isn’t about him. This is about me and what I want. For once.” You laid a hand against his neck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispered stepping closer to lay a hand against the cold brick, body just inches away from yours.

“Jay, I am going home with someone tonight, and I really hope it’s you.” You bargained. You hadn’t done this in months, and you were just ready to let all the pent up need out. Jay searched your face for hesitation before leaning in to capture your lips. You quickly responded, hands wrapping around his neck to pull his body against yours. Letting him take control of the kiss when his fingers moved to tightly grasp your jaw. Tongue slipping into your mouth in time with the movement. You hummed when he nipped at your lip pulling away to take heavy breaths.

“My place?” He whispered lips almost up against yours again. Nodding quickly you reached into his coat pocket fishing out the keys to unlock the vehicle. Chuckling he took them from you opening the passenger door to help you in before walking to the drivers side and starting the truck. You could see him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you chewed on your bottom lip appreciating his features lit up from the street lights. He turned to wink at you before putting the truck into drive and heading towards his apartment.

The silence was tense and a little bit awkward as you started to second guess your forwardness. You weren’t just using him to get back at Adam, right? You were a grown woman and you had needs. Needs that hadn’t been met in far too long, and the person that was going to satisfy them just so happened to be your co-worker from the same unit. That’s all. It was all coincidence. Plus Jay was hot. Everyone knew that. Why couldn’t you enjoy that fact when the opportunity presented itself? “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jay asked jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing. I just..I don’t know. Kinda embarrassed.” You admitted shrugging.

“Why?” He questioned grabbing a hold of your hand.

“I could’ve approached that better instead of acting like a horny teenager.” You laughed looking down.

“I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping you’d say something though.” He looked over at you grinning.

“What?” You looked at him confused.

“I mean you’re obviously beautiful and I thought we had a great night together, but I didn’t want to overstep bounds or make it awkward. I was just hoping you picked up the same vibe I was catching. I’m not the greatest at saying what I want.” He chuckled. Shaking your head you looked down smiling to yourself, feeling a little lighter in the knowledge that he wanted you too. Lifting the center console up you scooted closer to him. “Well hello.” He smirked, hand falling onto your thigh.

“I like your beard.” You smiled running your fingers through it. The last time you had seen him with one was when Erin left, and the only time before that was when he had been kidnapped. Remembering the bruises that accompanied the facial hair. Tracing his face where they had healed completely.

“Yeah?” He replied smiling at the gentleness of your hands as you admired his face.

“Yeah, I think you should keep it.” You voiced your opinion.

“Maybe I will.” He squeezed your thigh when you leaned over to lay soft kisses along his neck, nipping at his ear as you moved your palm over the crotch of his jeans. You felt his breath hitch at the movement, letting out a low growl when your lips attached right below his ear, heel of your hand pressing down simultaneously. “Oh god, I can’t wait to get you inside.” Jay whispered, breaths becoming labored at the insistent pressure of your hand. Quickly pulling into the parking garage of his apartment two minutes later. Putting the truck into park he let his eyes fall shut, head falling back onto the rest his hips finally moving up in time with the movement of your palm. The sight before you and the feeling of his obvious arousal already causing moisture to gather between your legs. Giving him a couple more rocks of pressure before slipping your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Jay?” You whispered pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw, his facial hair tickling your nose. He turned his head to look at you, pupils already visibly darker than before. “I want you.” You stated. He grinned giving you a quick but hard kiss before shutting his truck off and guiding you towards the elevator. Pushing you against the wall as soon as the doors closed mouth molding over yours, hands bracketing you in against the wall. “Mmm.” You hum when his lips start to trail down your jaw. “Someone could walk in.” You remind him head falling back to give him more access. The dinging as you pass each floor prevalent in the background.

“Don’t care.” He growls lifting one of your legs to rest on his hips, fingers moving up your thigh, starting to move your panties to the side when the elevator comes to a stop on his floor. “I don’t think it’s ever moved that fast before.” He joked letting your leg down and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards his apartment before pulling his keys out to unlock it and ushering you inside. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asked casually as he set his keys down slipping off his shoes, ridding your heels in the process you giggled stepping towards him to take the lapels of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m definitely thirsty but not for water.” You winked pulling him back towards your lips, before you pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Beginning to unbutton his dress shirt his hands moved down to your ass, lips breaking from yours long enough for him to whisper,

“Jump.” You let him pick you up, shedding his shirt on the way towards his bedroom.

“You have too many clothes on.” You sighed when he laid you down on the end of his bed tugging the bottom of his shirt. Laughing he stood up to pull it over his head for you.

“You haven’t taken one piece of clothing off and I’m the one that’s wearing too much?” He teased falling back on top of you.

“Lucky for you, you’ll find there’s next to no obstacles once this comes off.” You snapped the strap of your dress. Jay eyes trailed down your body slowly, hands following as he pulled you up to slide the zipper down slowly, lips falling to your collarbone in the process.

“Tell me if this is okay.” He hesitated sliding the straps down.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You voiced helping him pull the tight dress from your body. Face instantly blushing when you looked up to see his eyes wandering all over you, left in only your panties.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He complimented hands squeezing your hips.

“Your voice is really sexy when you’re turned on.” You blurted out, causing Jay to laugh.

“Well I can assure you I am in fact very turned on right now.” He grinned nuzzling your neck.

“Can I..?” You asked tugging on the button of his pants popping it open when you felt him nod. He breathed a quiet sigh at the pressure being released when you opened his zipper, pushing them to the ground with his help. He returned back on top of you leaning down to press his mouth to yours, moving slowly to appreciate the action. In no hurry for this to end. Your hand trailed from his chest to his stomach, tip of your finger sneaking under the hem of his boxers. His hips involuntarily bucking at the anticipation, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. Reaching further down you took a hold of him giving him an experimental squeeze earning a groan against your lips. Beginning to slowly move your hand his forehead fell against yours eyes closing while his hips began to move in rhythm. Swiping your thumb across the tip, gathering the precum that had started to leak out. He watched as you brought it to your mouth, licking it off your finger to enjoy the taste of him. Breath hitching at the sight, seemingly flipping a switch in him as he lunged forward capturing your wrists and forcing them above your head, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. Roughly biting at your lip before moving down your body. Stopping first at your chest. His teeth nipped at the skin, laying soft kisses all over before taking ahold of your left breast tongue swirling around your nipple. Other hand pinching and rolling the right between his fingers. Swallowing a moan your legs opened further letting him slide between them more comfortably. His mouth moved farther south as his fingers gently started to make soft circles to your center outside of your underwear. Sighing your hips moved slightly trying to get more pressure as you felt Jay smile against your hip bone. Teasingly his fingers fumbled with the side of your underwear occasionally swiping his finger inside while his mouth bit and sucked the inside of your thighs no doubt leaving a few marks. “Oh, yeah you’re keeping the beard.” Your fingertips dug into his head, goosebumps rising at the rough feeling of his facial hair against your thighs, jaw tightening, not wanting to make a sound.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you insinuating we will be doing this again?” He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk on his lips.

“Stop talking.” You ordered, face going a little red.

“If I remember correctly you just said my voice was sexy.” He quipped.

“And if I remember correctly you were in the middle of something.” You pushed his head back down.

“As you wish.” He winked teeth grazing the inside of your thigh as he moved closer and closer to your core. Your legs were starting to shake at the anticipation, your mind picturing your juices covering his mouth and throughout his beard.

“Jay, please.” You actually whined when he laid a kiss on your clit outside of your panties.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name. I can tell you’re trying to hold back, but all I want is to hear you [Y/N]. Helps me figure out the best way to make you feel good.” He admitted hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor, “Let me hear you baby. Let me know I’m doing a good job.” He reminded you before his mouth connected to your center, eliciting a moan that you wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if you tried.

“Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.” He commented, before his tongue swirled around your clit, gently sucking it. Head falling back you let yourself give into every sensation. The way his hands pinned your hips down, preventing you from moving. The way his tongue worked you so soft and smooth like he did the research on exactly how your pussy was structured so he could hit every sweet spot imaginable. The way he pushed a finger in slightly curling it up to perfectly hit your g-spot over and over again while his tongue flicked against your clit. The way his stubble burned against your thighs only heightening the realization that this was Jay. Jay Halstead: your co-worker, friend, and apparently now fuck buddy. Your legs started to shake, hips trying their hardest to fight their way out of his grasp, uncontrollable noises flowing from your lips, knot growing tighter with each tap of your sweet spot.

“J-Jay.” You warned, hoping he could hear your voice that was barely there. Your fingers tightening in his hair, the other one moving down to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the roughness.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encouraged fingers moving faster, tongue licking harder. This was Jay Halstead and he was eating you out like no tomorrow, and with that thought your thighs came up to trap his head, back arching as you screamed out the knot inside of you unraveling hard.

Legs falling back apart you released him and Jay made his way back up your body. Kissing you, taste of yourself covering his mouth. “That was beautiful.” He smirked, cupping your cheek.

“That was incredible, how did you even learn how to do that? It’s like you knew my body better than I do.” You laughed still a little light headed.

“Everyone is different. You just have to pay attention to the signs. For example I already know you’re not going to be able to cum from just penetration. Just like you have a hard time cumming from just oral. You need the best of both worlds. I always knew you were high maintenance.” He joked.

“You already have me all figured out.” You rolled your eyes, but. what he was saying was true. You don’t know how he came to the conclusion, but you weren’t about to complain.

“If you want to stop here I completely understand. We don’t-“ He started to say when you cut him off.

“And deprive myself of discovering whether your dick game is as good as your head? No thank you.” You grinned starting to push his boxers down.

“Well I could never live with myself if I left you wondering.” He shrugged, getting up to push the last remaining piece of clothing between you two to the ground before reaching over to fish a condom out of his nightstand. You took a hold of him again, twisting your hand up and down his shaft to make sure he was fully ready. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on with your help. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” He asked again, positioning his dick at your entrance.

“Yes, completely.” You nodded.

“Just tell me if you want to stop at any point.” He reiterated, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss you when he started to push in. Groaning you focused on his tongue slipping into your mouth knowing the pain would subside soon, and a few short thrusts later the pleasure started to seep in.

“Ahh fuck.” You moaned relaxing into him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled feeling the way you loosened more for him still making small movements, knowing there was no way he would be able to go hard right away, but within a few strokes your pussy started to clench him even harder than before. “Baby, you gotta loosen up for me or I’m not gonna be able to move at all without blowing it.” He groaned biting his lip, hips shuttering.

“I’m sorry you just feel so good.” You cried, it wasn’t your fault. Well not really anyway you had a hard time controlling it.

“Okay okay okay.” You closed your eyes, begging yourself to relax when he hit your g-spot for the first time. “Shit!” You cursed nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Right there. Again. Please.” You informed him, but you knew he was already aware as he hit it again before you were finished talking. He took one of your legs positioning it on his shoulder as he bracketed himself above you. Hitting harder this time, earning a loud moan from you. “Jay, faster. Please baby.” You begged.

“You feel incredible [Y/N]. I’m gonna cum so hard. Jay moaned above you.

“Your dick feels amazing babe. I love that I get to make you cum.” You reciprocated attempting to move with him. His thumb moved down to start rubbing circles on your clit in time with his long thrusts. “I h-hope you think a-ahhh-about this every time you - fuck - see me at w-work this week.” You got out between heavy breaths.

“I’m not going to be able to think about a-anything else baby. How f-fucking good you taste. How much I loved being between your legs e-eating you up. How good your pussy feels s-stretched around my cock. Holy fuck [Y/N] I’m so fucking close. Fuck fuck fuck, [Y/N].” He screamed louder with each word, collapsing onto you as he worked through his high, but you were already gone. Pulsating around his dick the minute he reminded you how good he looked between your thighs. Opening your eyes just in time for you to watch his orgasm and to catch your name falling off his lips with a few curse words.

“Is it true?” You asked after a few minutes of silence, heavily breathing being the only sounds that filled the room.

“Is what true?” He replied confused when he started to pull out of you before carefully disposing of the filled condom.

“You’re going to think all that stuff when you look at me this week?” You explained, causing him to chuckle still breathless.

“Maybe not every time, but I’d confidently wager 80% of the time.” He smirked rolling over to kiss you, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for me to be thinking about it and not give you permission to as well.” You shrugged, knowing full well this wasn’t disappearing from your mind anytime soon. You got up to use the restroom as Jay cleaned himself the rest of the way.

“Is he bigger than me?” Jay asked, when you walked back into the room.

“I am not answering that question.” You laughed loudly laying back down beside him.

“Why not? It’s for research purposes. You know purely for your benefit.” He smirked down at you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You urged.

“I just gotta know the level of game I have to bring. Should I be more focused on the motion or does the size make up for it?” He gestured south.

“Motion is always more important than size.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jay scrunched his eyebrows,“Next time this happens I’ll just use my finger and remind you of what you just said.”

“I said it was more important. I didn’t say it’s not important at all, but I can assure you the level of game you brought tonight is better than I could’ve imagined.” You smiled completely satisfied.

“I totally am.” He decided, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“So what’s the plan here?” You changed the subject.

“I think that all depends on what you want.” Jay answered.

“Well..I’m not going to deny this was fun and you did say I need to have more fun.” You shrugged sheepishly.

“So then we keep having fun.” Jay said simply.

“But we need ground rules.” You laid your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay..” He looked down at you waiting for you to continue.

“Like I don’t know..is this purely friends with benefits? Do we go out for dinner sometimes? Do I bring you coffee in the morning?” You started to list the things running through your head.

“If you want to bring me coffee and dinner, who am I to tell you no?” He joked causing you to sigh.

“Jay, I’m serious.” You pushed.

“Can’t we just kind of roll with it?” He asked, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I guess I’m just scared of what will happen if they find out.” You admitted.

“So what if they do?” He seemed unfazed.

“You’re not concerned at all how Hailey would react?” You asked.

“I like her. I really do. That’s not a secret, but she’s sleeping with Adam. Why should we have to wait around and agonize over it? You deserve to be just as happy as he does [Y/N].” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“What if this turns into some fanfiction shit where we end up having feelings for each other?” You giggled.

“Well then I hope the author writes us a happy ending.” He smiled kissing you on the forehead. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after that performance.” He yawned. You agreed, waiting for him to slide further down into his bed before pulling you back into his side, your head falling back down on his chest.

“Promise me you’re not going to freak out in the morning.” He whispered kissing the top of your head after a few minutes of silence.

“I promise.” You replied kissing his chest before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning you felt the heat before your eyes even opened. Quickly registering that you were laying on someone. Slowly opening your eyes you looked around the semi dark room, black out curtains trying to reduce the amount of light peeking through. You knew who it was, but you had to confirm it. Gently sitting up you were met with Jay’s figure still sleeping beside you. Oh shit. You started to panic, memories of the night before suddenly flooding your mind. Remembering the things you did, the things you said. Eyes darting around the room you started to contemplate an escape. You’d sneak out and pretend like this never happened. That’s probably what Jay would want you to do anyway and-

“Lay back down and stop freaking out.” Jay grumbled beside you, eyes still closed. You reached for the sheet to cover your still bare body.

“How did you even-“ You began to ask causing Jay to smirk.

“I’m a detective for a reason, [Y/L/N]. Come back to sleep.” He urged pulling you back into his chest.

“It’s probably just a better idea if I leave.” You sat back up causing him to sigh heavily.

“You promised me you weren’t going to freak out.” Jay reminded you.

“I’m not freaking out.” You tried to defend, voice squeaking a little.

“Then stop biting your lip.” He challenged. Stopping your actions you looked over to still see his eyes closed.

“Okay seriously how the hell-“ You started

“I know you better than you think.” He opened his eyes to look up at you, dark circles obvious under them reminding you of late the two of you were up last night a blush covering your cheeks at the thought. “What’s going on, what are you thinking about at 6:30 in the morning?” He asked, looking at you like you were crazy after seeing the time on his alarm clock.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged looking away from him.

“C’mon talk to me.” He pushed sitting up to face you where you clung tight to the sheet that was also still covering him up to his hips.

“I just said a lot of stuff last night that’s kinda embarrassing looking back on it now.” You admitted remembering distinctly how you encouraged him to fuck you.

“Like?” He urged making you groan.

“I am not answering that.” You shook your head looking around the room for any piece of clothing.

“I can’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound incredible coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged just as you found a shirt slipping it on before realizing it was his.

“It’s probably just a good idea for me to leave.” You sighed contemplating what to do.

“We’ve gotten like 3 hours of sleep. Please lay back down.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jay.” You sighed running a hand down your face.

“Just come back to bed and let me cook you breakfast later. Then if you want to leave you can.” He bargained, voice still raspy from lack of sleep. Your mind was all over the place. You did want to be here, and last night was great and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping for a morning encore. That’s what friends with benefits were for right? But how would this end? You just didn’t want to get hurt again somehow, but maybe that was just something you had to risk.

“Only if you make French toast.” You reasoned making him grin.

“That can be arranged.” He lifted his arms to pull you back to his chest.

“Your voice is sexy in the morning too.” You whispered after a few minutes, hoping he was asleep already.

“I think it’s a little worn out from all the sounds you had me making last night.” He retorted making you giggle.

NSFW Taglist:

@beautiful-bunny89 @justadreamxx @grettiwrites @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @malrunaway @queen-of-arda

[supercorpkid]

It’s crossover season – Part 2.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Iron Man x TeamMate!Reader, Captain America x TeamMate!Reader, Bucky x TeamMate!Reader, Falcon x TeamMate!Reader, Vision x TeamMate!Reader, Wanda x TeamMate!Reader.

Word count: 2675.

Previously on the series - part 1

“What do you mean no one can lift Thor’s hammer?” You ask Cap, who puts his arms around you with a little smile. “Is it made by a million tons of condensed dwarf star?”

“Is it what? No, nothing like that. It’s a long story.” He says guiding you back inside. “The important part is that you just showed everyone how worthy you are.” You smile at the compliment. “Do you mind training a little, before the big fight? I just want to make sure you’re in sync with the rest of the team.”

“Yeah. I would love that.” You agree with your head and Cap guides you to a large room with a bunch of new people you don’t know.

“Guys, this is Superkid. She is back-up for the fight that is to come.” Cap says and you smile shyly, looking at everyone staring at you. “Remember that we’re facing a strong and big army, and any help is more than welcomed.” He looks back at you. “Now onto work.”

You agree with your head, and he leaves. You look at a guy with wings coming out of his suit and nod.

“Nice wings.” You smile politely. He agrees with his head.

“Thank you! Nice…” He looks at you for a second and you finally notice what you’ve been wearing all along. Your momma’s old college T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“Oh, sorry!” You change into your super suit using your super speed and go back to the same place you were.

“So, you’re fast.” He says like he has deciphered you. “I’m Sam, aka Falcon.” He points at himself. “Red guy over there is Vision.” You look up to see an actual red guy flying.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He says from up there.

“Yeah. You too.” You look back at Sam, pointing at the only other girl in the room.

“That’s Wanda.”

“Cool. Hi Wanda!” You wave at her and she kind of waves, kind of nods at you, but doesn’t quite do any.

“Bucky.” Sam says at the guy coming closer with a frown on his face.

“Are we going to kindergartens to pick up heroes now?” It’s what Bucky says, when he gets closer to you and you roll your eyes. Not another one questioning your abilities because of your age.

“Nice arm.” You point at his metal arm with a smile. “Is that your superpower? You have a metal arm?”

“Funny.” He frowns while Sam laughs at him.

“Come on, kid. Time to show us what you’ve got.” Sam says and they all walk to the same side, leaving you alone in the other.

“So, it’s all of you against me?” You furrow your brows and they smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.” Bucky says with a blank face, and you shrug.

Falcon is the first to come at you. Wings up, flying towards you, with a gun in hand. He doesn’t shoot, but he doesn’t catch you either. You fly up, and when he passes down on you, you throw your body back at him, making him fall on the ground. He uses his wings to protect himself from the fall and rolls to the other side of the room.

Next, Bucky comes at you. You know he’s more of a combat guy. That’s not your fighting style, you are aware. You were never really good at that, so you should avoid it. He comes in, metal arm ready to punch you and you hold his hand before it hits your face. You don’t know what this metal is, but it’s very strong, and a lot harder to break than you thought. Still, you make an effort to at least make a dent in it.

“Stop!” He pulls his arm away from your grip. “This is expensive, kid. Don’t break it.”

“Sorry.” You look at the little dent you made in it and smile apologetic. “I’ll go easy on you.”

But your time with Bucky is over, because Vision is coming at you now. He flies towards you at full speed, but he doesn’t have his fist closed. He is not going to punch you. Instead, he hits you with some kind of yellow ray, and you look at your hands glowing yellow, and feel your entire body shivering like you just got a blast of excitement.

“What is this?” You ask him, and he stops. Surprised you’ve taken such a hit, without running from it.

“Solar energy?” He asks, landing in front of you. “You were not supposed to take the hit, I thought you would move away from it.”

“Solar energy?” You smile. “Cool, man. That’s how I get my powers. And you just blast me with the strongest sunlight I’ve ever seen. I bet I’m even stronger now!”

Just to test it, you punch the floor, making a hole all around you. You notice, kind of too late, that this is probably the second time you’ll cause structural damage to a room, when you hear the windows breaking, making glass fly everywhere. Just a second later you hear the walls starting to give in and soon they’re crumbling down.

You look around, before the ceiling falls on top of you, to see the rest of ‘the Avengers’, and pick them up to save them from it. But you’re a second too late, because soon, there’s a red energy force around you, and before you blink, you’re thrown away, along with everyone else from the team to the field next to it.

You roll on the floor, stopping a little further away from everyone else, and you look at the now destroyed room you were all inside.

“I’m sorry.” You look at them feeling a little embarrassed. That was too much. You went too far. “Did I mess up big time?”

“Oh no, don’t worry. Who here never destroyed an entire reinforced training space?” Sam says, sounding a little bit too ironic, and you don’t know if he maybe meant it as a joke, or to try to make you feel better. Either way, you think this isn’t the first time you’ve destroyed your training place. “Besides, Tony’s a billionaire.” He says standing up, and you look up to Wanda, landing in front of you, and offering her hand to help you up.

“Thanks for getting us out of there.” You smile and she agrees with her head.

“Yeah, sure. Just don’t destroy the other side of the compound. That’s where we sleep.” She smiles and you agree with your head.

“I’m not mad.” You hear behind you, and you turn around to look at Mister Stark himself looking at the mess you made. “I just want to know who did it.” He takes off his sunglasses just to stare at you. “Let me guess, smart mouth over here is not only great at talking back, but she is also a destruction weapon?”

“In my defense…” You try, knowing there’s absolutely no defense for what you just did. “Vision hit me with solar energy, and you know that’s where my powers come from.”

He sighs, looking at you one last time, before putting his sunglasses back. If you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed the little smile on the corner of his lips.

“Where should I send the bill to?” He asks walking past you and you know it’s a rhetorical question, but you still roll your eyes and answer.

“L Corp.”

“Not a real place. But nice try.” If you didn’t have super hearing, you wouldn’t have caught that. “Wanda, do you mind showing our little troublemaker where she’s staying tonight? I hope we’re lucky enough that she won’t destroy that.”

“Come on.” Wanda points at the other side of the compound. “Let’s fly there.”

Wanda leads you to the other wing of the compound and shows you an empty bedroom you can stay in. You sit on the bed feeling relentless. There’s too much going on in your head, you would sound crazy if you try to put it into words.

It’s weird being here. It’s your first thought. But it’s also nice. You’re used to being around super-heroes. You were never a stranger to the saving lives and saving the world concept. It’s been like this ever since you were born, and you never knew another life. But whatever this is, it’s not what you’re used to. This is not a house, you understand that by looking around, this is a safe place. Sort of like the Fortress of Solitude. But instead of solitude, you find that there’s so many people around. What you’re feeling right now is anything, but loneliness.

So many superheroes with different abilities, all living together, training, making each other better. People with so many backgrounds. You were so scared they could find out you’re half alien, and then Thor waltzes in looking like he just belongs on this Earth, and you find peace. For the first time the thought of you being half alien is not scary. You’re not scared if they know that. In fact, you want them to know that.

You want them to know you, and you want to know them. You want to hear all about Thor’s hammer and why apparently no one else in this house can lift it, no matter how strong they are.

“It’s called Mjölnir.” Wanda says and you look at your door with wide eyes. You earn a soft chuckle in response. “The fact why no one can’t lift it, it’s because there’s some Asgardian protection and only who’s worthy can lift it.”

“Worthy of what?” You ask and she shrugs, walking to the chair in front of your bed.

“I guess who has a pure heart or good intentions?” Wanda waves it off, and you agree with your head. “Honestly, you have immense power. I guess the fact that you’re a kid also helps with the ‘pure heart’ part.”

“Like you’re that much older.” You roll your eyes, and Wanda smiles again. She must be only four years older than you. It’s not that big of a difference. And yet, here she is. Part of ‘the Avengers’. Fighting, being a back-up for everyone. While you just keep destroying training centers like a big stupid mess.

“Hey, stop that.” Wanda says and you raise your eyes to stare her. “You’re not a big stupid mess.”

“And you can stop reading my thoughts, please.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re wrong anyways. I wasn’t always back-up. In fact, I was once someone they were fighting against.” She breathes deep after that. You furrow your brows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She bites her lips while fidgeting with her rings. “No one here is perfect. Everyone has a past where they did something they shouldn’t have.”

“Oh really? Even Mister Playboy?” You ask.

“Especially him. He made his money by selling weapons that were used by the bad guys. He might be a genius, but his money? I don’t really like to think about where that came from.”

“Sam? Bucky?”

“Sam was military, so I bet he’s done a lot. Bucky was literally brainwashed and has killed a long list of people by the command of a huge bad organization.” Wanda adds, and you furrow your brows taking some time to absorb her words. “Just-” She makes her way to sit in bed with you. “I know you feel bad for destroying the training center, and honestly you don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you all have such intense-” You look at her to see her reaction to the word. She hums in agreement. “Pasts.” You think about Kara. “I’m not very familiar with that.”

“How come?”

“Well, my momma is from a planet called Krypton and it exploded. So, she was sent to Earth, not this one,” you make sure to add. “She always did good. I think she sort of felt like she had to, ‘cause Earth was welcoming her after the loss of her planet, you know?”

“She never made a mistake?” Wanda raises her eyebrow and you think about a few times Kara was affected with red Kryptonite and sure, she made a few mistakes back there, but none was intentional. She was never fully conscious and chose to do so. You shake your head in denial. “Ooof, it must be hard. Is it only the two of you?”

“No. There’s my other mom. She came from a family of villains. My uncle is just always out to kill me and my momma, because we’re aliens.” You say, not aware why you’re telling this girl you just met everything about your life. “But, despite all that, my mom is good. She’s a genius who just makes stuff to make my Earth better.”

“I see now why you’re worthy of Thor’s hammer and the rest of us aren’t.” She chuckles and you give her a forced smile.

“I’m not so good. Not like they want, anyways.” You say and Wanda agrees with her head, like she understands you.

“You know something I learned when I joined the Avengers?” You look at her with puzzling eyes. “You can’t always be good. It’s impossible. The world isn’t black and white, things are not easy like that. You can try to do good as much as you’d like, but sometimes you think you’re on the good side, and you’re not. At all.” She really seems to be talking about her own experiences here. “There’s this grey area and sometimes we find ourselves there.”

“And then what do we do?” You are really interested, because maybe you’re in this grey area.

“We survive and we go on.” She shrugs. “That’s the only thing we can do.”

Go on. That’s her advice. She goes on. That’s not something Kara and Lena would say to you. They would’ve said the only thing you can do, is do your best. Do better. Fight your way out of this grey area. They would never have told you to just survive, and just go on. But here’s the thing, sometimes just surviving is you already doing your best.

You stare at Wanda’s face and hum in agreement. She’s right. And the best part? She wouldn’t force you to do better, but just to go on.

“Wow, you’re really wise for someone your age.” You are legit impressed with her. She smiles at you.

“I have been through a lot of pain and losses.” Her expression immediately saddens at that, and you can only imagine what she’s been through. “It forced me out of my youth.”

“Sorry about that, Wanda.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs, getting up, and she points to the door in front of yours. “I’m in that room, in case you need something. Just rest a little. Tomorrow will probably be the hardest day of your life.”

Wanda leaves your bedroom and you look around, breathing deep. Man, aren’t you far from home?

You think about Kara and Lena, and you hope they’re not worried about you. Because this might sound weird, but it feels good to be here. It feels like this is where you are actually supposed to be right now.

Post-credit scene:

“This is it?” Kara says landing in front of a door, putting Lena next to her. Lena picks up the card again and looks at it.

“This is it. 177A Bleecker St.” She agrees with her head.

“There’s nothing inside.” Kara walks in the front door, giving it a push strong enough to open it even though it is locked. They walk in an empty building, covered with dust and silence. “She’s not here. There’s nothing here.”

“Kara.” Lena calls and Kara turns around to look at her. Both have watery eyes, and hearts beating out of their chest. “I want my baby.”

“I want her too.” Kara says, wrapping her arms around Lena’s shoulders, bringing her closer. “I’m gonna find her. I will find you, little one. I’ll find you.”

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[robininthelabyrinth]

NHS ghost travels to the past and the only ones who can see him clearly are baby!NHS & NMJ

on ao3

“Would you believe that I’m a saber spirit?” the ghost asked. “Or maybe an ancestor?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. He did not put down the exorcism talisman.

The ghost sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

Before Nie Mingjue could do anything more, the ghost rushed at him – taken aback, Nie Mingjue flinched, and when he opened his eyes again the ghost was gone.

He still pinned the talisman onto the swaddling wrapped around his baby brother, who was grumbling in sleepy dissatisfaction at having been nearly woken up.

He wasn’t taking any chances with his brother’s health.

-

“I’m actually not dangerous,” the ghost argued. He’d figured out that if he hovered high enough, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be able to get at him – though he still flinched whenever Nie Mingjue threw rocks at him. He must be a relatively new ghost. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but I’m here to help.”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue said. There were plenty of pebbles next to the place where laundry got done, and he could grab one without being spotted whenever he dunked the clothing in. “I believe you. Come down here a little closer, I’ll believe you some more.”

The ghost sighed.

-

“Just give me a chance, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I have good reasons –”

“Don’t care.”

-

“If you come any closer, I’ll douse you in a male virgin’s urine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Ghosts are supposed to hate that.”

The ghost huffed. “Like I’m dumb enough come near you when you’re swaddling the baby anyway.”

-

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving! Just put Baxia down already!”

-

“You need more salt.”

“I thought ghosts hated that, too?”

“Maybe it’s rock salt ghosts hate?” the ghost asked, floating over Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “I don’t think I have anything against proper seasoning.”

Nie Mingjue huffed, rolling his eyes, but he did add a little more salt.

“Ah ha!” the ghost exclaimed. “You are starting to listen to me!”

“That’s when the recipes says to put it in,” Nie Mingjue said. “I was always going to add some more of it in then.”

“I don’t believe you! You were definitely listening!”

-

“Listen, if I was a normal ghost, your father would have totally gotten rid of me, right?”

“Never said I thought you were normal,” Nie Mingjue said, soothing his brother to sleep in his arms with soft murmurs and a gentle voice that did not come naturally to him. “I said you were a pest. Did I ever say anything about being normal?”

“…no, I guess not,” the ghost conceded. “Damnit, I thought I was onto something with that. Also, shouldn’t a nursemaid be doing that?”

“Can’t be trusted,” Nie Mingjue said.

The ghost frowned, then blanched. “Right, right,” he murmured. “I nearly forgot, what happened with – uh, what happened right around that time. That would have been recently, too, wouldn’t it? You’ve always remembered it better.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

“Still, you’re only seven. Even if they were scared to hire a nursemaid for fear of letting in another assassin, shouldn’t someone else be doing this?”

“I’m eight,” Nie Mingjue said.  

“The point still stands. Surely one of the servants..?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re at war,” he explained. “Everyone who can swing a saber is out fighting it, and that includes the servants.”

“I thought it was too quiet,” the ghost said, half to himself. “I haven’t seen anyone else in – okay, actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen anyone.”

“War,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re eight,” the ghost said. He looked upset. “How could they leave you alone like this? You make your own food, you do the laundry, you take care of – this is ridiculous! There must be people who are too old to go that could help…there must be other children! Where are the other children?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

Nie Huaisang needed his sleep, after all.

-

“I refuse to let this go,” the ghost said. “Even if – especially if – a whole bunch of the other kids died or something, even if all of them died, which they didn’t, there’s absolutely no reason for you to be left alone like this.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d hoped that the ghost would let it drop, but apparently, no.

Apparently, he was going to have to engage.

(Nie Huaisang waving his hands at the ghost, burbling happily, had nothing to do with that decision.)

“You assume they left me,” he said. “You have it backwards.”

“…what?”

“I ran away,” Nie Mingjue explained, and the ghost’s jaw dropped. “This place was abandoned because of the war – too awkward an outpost to be worth it for either side – and I took my brother and we came here, just me and him and Baxia. I’m planning on staying until the war’s over.”

“But why? You’re the heir.”

“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue said. “That’s why.”

“…what?”

“It’s ‘sang’ as in mulberry leaves, right?” he asked. “For his name? I heard you whispering it to him.”

“I - yeah, it’s mulberry,” the ghost said, blinking at him. “And ‘huai’ as in ‘to hold’…but you know that already, surely?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

The ghost stared at him. He didn’t blink, which was typical of ghosts, but still a bit unnerving.

“You named the child, didn’t you,” the ghost said. It wasn’t a question. “You take care of him, you raise him, you’re refusing to return home…it’s war, you said. Because of the massacre of the junior generation that everyone pretended was an accident but wasn’t, because of Mother’s death from that assassin pretending to be a nursemaid. People do things when they get angry, during war. What was going to happen to – to the baby?”

“Massacre at his conception, declaration of war at his quickening, assassination at his birth,” Nie Mingjue recited. “That’s three bad things; bad luck comes in fours, and we really can’t afford to lose this war. Newborns die easy as flipping over your hand, and maybe the next one won’t be so unlucky, won’t be a calamity star – that sort of thing. It was too dangerous.”

“Oh,” the ghost said. “I never knew.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who would have told you? I would’ve killed them, first.”

The ghost twitched, and stared at him.

“I like Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s a good name. Even if how you got it is a bit circular.”

-

“Someone murders you,” the ghost – Nie Huaisang of the future, as Nie Mingjue had long ago figured out, but it was easier to keep thinking of him as ‘the ghost’ – said, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. It’d be a sad and pathetic sight, except for the way he was sitting on the ceiling. “I was trying to come back to stop it from happening…maybe even prevent our father’s murder, too, if I could. That happens when you’re fifteen, by the way. You have to inherit, and spend the rest of your life avenging him.”

“Do I succeed?”

“…yes.”

“That’s good, then,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Don’t you want to know more?”

“Why? Are you planning on going somewhere?”

The ghost uncurled himself from his dramatic misery to float down until his head (still upside down) was floating in front of Nie Mingjue. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Ghosts that resolve their business are liberated,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe I like having you around.”

“…oh.”

-

“One day you’re going to save the world,” the ghost told him.

“Today, you already have,” Nie Mingjue replied.

-

“Maybe I never went back in time,” the ghost said. “Maybe I’m just dead, and this is one of the eighteen hells, punishing me for everything I’ve done.”

“Are you having a bad time?” Nie Mingjue asked. He himself was having a good time: Nie Huaisang wasn’t crying, for once, and he had him sitting in his lap, a stick wrapped in his little baby hand (supported by Nie Mingjue, of course) waiving in the air in the rudimentary beginnings of proper saber forms.

“Well, no. But then again, ‘everything I’ve done’ wasn’t that bad, and all done in the name of filial piety – I even bought already-dead cats – well, except for little Mo Xuanyu. He deserved better than he got from everyone, me included.”

“None of that made even the slightest bit of sense to me, you know,” Nie Mingjue said. “But if you feel so bad about it, I promise to change it this time around.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the ghost said. “If this is the underworld, then you wouldn’t have the chance to change it. We’d just repeat this over and over again, forever!”

“How many times has it been for you, then?”

“Well, only one. But it could be the beginning of many times! Or – or – maybe I’ve forgotten the previous times!”

“Seems like a pretty stupid punishment if you just forget about it,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hmm. Good point.”

“You’re prone to anxiety, aren’t you?” Nie Mingjue said to the Nie Huaisang in his arms, who made an expression that was clearly his best effort at smiling. He was still building up those facial muscles. “We’ll have to work on that, in this life.”

“Hey!”

-

“Okay, so, positing that this whole living in an abandoned outpost is a real thing that is happened and is still happening, which I’m still not convinced of –”

“I don’t seem like the type to run away?”

“…you were always very righteous.”

“Sometimes, righteous people do stupid things,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Remind me to tell you about someone called Wei Wuxian,” the ghost said, now thoroughly distracted. “He’s more or less the walking, talking incarnation of that…”

“Did he have a sad childhood?”

“What? I mean, I guess so? His parents died, he lived on the streets for a while, developed a fear of dogs, but then he got rescued by Jiang Fengmian and adopted, so – are you taking notes?”

“How else am I supposed to keep track of all these names?”

-

“Maybe you should go pick up Meng Yao. If you’re planning on changing things, I mean.”

Nie Mingjue squinted at the ghost, who was supervising the stew he was making. It was meat, for once – a pheasant that had conveniently gotten scared to death. The ghost had gotten very creative in how he could help out despite his general incorporeality. “Isn’t that the name of the person who eventually kills me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why would I go help him?”

“…he had a very sad childhood?”

“If I adopt everyone you say had a sad childhood, there won’t be a junior generation anymore,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “They’ll all be Nie sect.”

“And it would be better for them.”

“Annoying for me, though.”

-

“ – and that’s what demonic cultivation is,” the ghost concluded. “Why do you ask?”

“I have absolutely no reason to be interested in a type of cultivation specifically designed to make dead creatures do what I say, including shutting up whenever they’ve started talking in the middle of the night,” Nie Mingjue said, yawning. “None whatsoever.”

“It’s not that late, it’s only – hmm. Oops.”

-

“It’s not that different from what I do with Baxia,” Nie Mingjue argued.

“What you do with Baxia eventually kills you,” the ghost argued back.

“I thought you said I was murdered?”

“Through an existing weakness!”

“Without which the world will end, so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine at all!”

“I’m just saying, it would be –”

“No! I am not letting you demonically cultivate with me, and that’s final!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Your older self is so annoying,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang after the ghost had stormed off. Through a wall, no less, and that was purely to be especially dramatic about it since Nie Mingjue knew that he knew where the doors were. “Such a pest!”

-

“If we’re going to do this – I can’t believe we’re going to do this – we’re doing it slowly,” the ghost said. “You hear me? Slowly. I don’t care how much of a cultivation genius you are.”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“And no one ever finds out about it, okay? No one. If someone happens to see me, you need to lie and say that I – that I’m –”

“A saber spirit?”

“Shut up.”

-

“Baba!” Nie Huaisang burbled, or at least something that sounded vaguely similar. He was probably a few months too young for actual speech, though.

“Da-ge,” Nie Mingjue corrected, just in case.

The ghost sniggered. “So much of my childhood is suddenly explained, you have no idea.”

“I think I’m going to tell him to call you mama,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. “What do you think that’ll explain?”

-

“You’re depressingly good at this,” the ghost said. “I mean, everyone always said you were a genius, but you’re really good at cultivation.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“I still think you should hold off on the demonic cultivation aspects.”

“We’ve already agreed to disagree,” Nie Mingjue said. “And knowing demonic cultivation helps me refine my cultivation of Baxia as well – I can filter out only the finest resentful energy for her.”

“You make it sound like cat food.”

“Since you also thrive on resentful energy, what does that make you?”

“A mouse, surely.”

“Nah. Hedgehog.”

The ghost acted as if it had been stabbed and fell over backwards.

Dramatic bastard.

-

“There’s a person outside,” the ghost said. “They’re at the edge of the boundaries.”

Nie Mingjue could feel his shoulders stiffen. “What are they wearing?”

“Nie colors. I would’ve taken care of it myself if it was a Wen.”

They’d had an incident with a Wen squad coming too close, once.

The ghost, strengthened by Nie Mingjue’s demonic cultivation and the bond he’d formed between him and Baxia, had ripped the cultivators in the Wen patrol squad to pieces before they’d gotten too close.

Nie Mingjue had told him that he appreciated the enthusiasm, but to try to keep the mess down a bit next time. All that blood had attracted predators willing to feast on human flesh, and Nie Huaisang was still small.

“What boundary?” he asked, and went to go look down at it from one of the windows. “Oh.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” the ghost wanted to know.

Nie Mingjue looked at the man walking up. “No,” he said. “No problem.”

“What does he want? Is he going to make trouble for Sangsang?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “Just for me.”

He waited outside the door, Baxia in his hand.

His father came to a stop a reasonable distance away. “What will it cost for you to return?” he asked.

It was about what Nie Mingjue had expected. They were a practical family.

Nie Mingjue didn’t have memories of his future life, and the ghost didn’t remember this period of his previous life: the months they had spent together in this abandoned fortress, the way Nie Mingjue taught him to smile and to crawl, fed him and changed him and slept with him to calm him, the life they had shared in the world without the ghost.

Still, he had asked the ghost the questions he had wanted answered, casually dropping names into conversation with the ghost to judge his response, and he figured out what his answer must have been in that life before.

He’d asked for the heads of those that had directly threatened Nie Huaisang, and an oath that the sect would honor Nie Huaisang as the heir, that he would be sect leader following Nie Mingjue. He’d gotten what he’d asked for, but what had been meant as a gift had in the end only been a burden – the ghost wouldn’t have been so desperate to come back to this time if it wasn’t.

He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

He smiled.

“I’d like to make some changes,” he said, thinking of all the people that the ghost had talked about – all the ones who had sad childhoods. Many were the children of the other Great Sects, which would make things tricky to start – most people didn’t want their children raised by outsiders – but he’d thought of ways to make it work, and he knew the investment would ultimately bear fruit. His father, ruthless as he was, would understand that part of it, at least, even if he didn’t understand the rest. “Back me in full, or lose me forever.”

This was even more of a gamble than what he had asked for in his past life. A few heads, even of loyal servants, didn’t matter much, compared to blood – a blank slate was a far more dangerous request.

His father looked him over, and Nie Mingjue knew that he was calculating whether it was worth it. Whether it was Nie Mingjue’s head that he should take, this time, since he himself was still young enough to have more sons. But Nie Mingjue had learned from the ghost all the secrets he’d known about his own future cultivation, added to it the demonic cultivation he’d deduced, and he was, in the end, a genius.

There was a reason he was confident enough to make the request.

“Very well,” his father said. “I will back you.”

-

They told everyone that the ghost was an ancestor.

[theskywaslookingback]

[AO3]

“Why do you even have that?”

Sasha looks up from her laptop to give Jon a quizzical look. They’ve been deep in a research hole for hours now, Jon with his files spread out before him like a buffet and Sasha picking her way through line after line of code to access things that she really shouldn’t be able to access - although, the government should have better security if it didn’t want to get hacked so she tried not to feel too badly about it. Jon’s not looking at his files now though, his gaze appears to be drawn to her shoe-box sized kitchen.

“Why do I have what?” She asks, “A kitchen?”

“No, the--” He flicks his fingers in a vague gesture to the counter, and his eyebrows pull together in a fetching little wrinkle that Sasha desperately wants to smooth away with her thumb, “the absolutely massive thing you have taking up half your kitchen.”

“Oh!” Sasha says, and then starts to laugh.

The stand mixer is large, honestly, too big to store in the meagre storage space of her cabinets and taking up half the countertop next to the stove. It’s also a garish bright red, loud against the backdrop of beige walls and a white lino countertop. She wonders why on earth Jon’s bringing this up now, they’ve been working for hours now and this certainly isn’t the first time he’s visited her flat, and decides the answer to simply be that ‘it’s Jon, he’s probably just never noticed.’

He’s fully scowling at her now, in a way she knows is defensive. He probably thinks she’s making fun of him. He can be so sensitive. “Sorry,” She says when she stops laughing long enough to speak, “I think you just caught me off guard. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Jon starts to sputter, the tips of his ears darkening and his nose wrinkling.

He is cute, Sasha thinks.

She waves it off. “It was a wedding present. That’s one of the big ones, I think, for most people. First thing I added to the registry.”

Jon couldn’t look more blind-sided if he’d been hit by a lorry. He even drops his pen, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re married?”

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be daft. Does it look like I’m living with someone?”

Jon looks around anyway like he’s looking for evidence. “Divorced?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ with extra emphasis and grinning at the helpless confusion radiating from her friend.

“Then--” Jon trails off. He looks at the stand mixer again, like maybe it holds the answers he’s seeking. He looks back at her, and then down at his files. Suddenly his head jerks up and he says, “Wait, have you ever even been engaged?” He says this so seriously it tugs at Sasha’s heart. His eyes narrow like he’s caught her in some kind of trap, as though that wasn’t what she was expecting.

Sasha grins. “No.”

Jon looks at her incredulously, like he’s fitting together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his mind. It’s fun. Jon is so fun. “Sasha, did you fake an engagement just to get a stand mixer?”

“Yes!” Sasha slams her laptop shut and points at Jon, “But do not tell my great aunt that, do you understand? It took me years of work to get that stand mixer, Jon!”

Jon stares at her silently for just a moment, absolutely bewildered, before he dissolves into laughter, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his sides. It shakes his shoulders and Sasha swears there’s tears in his eyes and before she knows it she’s laughing too, hard enough it hurts her chest and blurs her vision. To an outside viewer they must look positively loony. It takes ages for them to stop and gather themselves back together. Jon takes off his glasses to wipe tears away from his eyes while Sasha rubs at her face and tries to stop the giggles that keep bubbling up when she looks at Jon.

“God,” Jon says at last, “I haven’t laughed like that in--” he clears his throat, “anyway.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, “anyway.”

She looks at the clock and is both shocked and completely unsurprised that it’s after midnight.

Jon must follow her gaze because she hears him utter a quiet, “good lord.”

She’s dangerously close to laughing again.

Jon starts to shuffle his files away back into their folders. “Later than I thought.” He says.

Sasha hums in agreement, putting her laptop away and sorting her notes into neat piles. “No use trying to get home this late, you might as well just stay the night.”

“Ah,” Jon’s nose does that cute wrinkle thing again, and Sasha’s lips twitch, “that’s quite alright. I’m sure I can just find a cab.”

“Could do,” Sasha agrees, “but it’d be easier if you stayed. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and everything. Plus, tomorrow is Saturday so it’s not like we have to rush back to work or anything.”

Jon’s got all his things put back in his messenger bag, a solid olive green canvas affair that Sasha privately thinks is dreadful looking. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your weekend. I’m sure you have plans.” He’s stalling, looking for a reason not to go. Sasha wishes he’d just tell her what he wants.

She smiles, because Jon isn’t easy but she knows him and she likes him anyway, “Well, I was going to put that stand mixer to work and make myself some bread. But other than that--” She shrugs.

Jon’s eyes go once more to that bright red piece of kitchen equipment. “You make your own bread?”

“Sure. It’s cheaper and it tastes better.”

Jon makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose… that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Lovely,” Sasha beams, and then adds slyly, “I’ve even got some of Tim’s things you can sleep in.”

Jon goes properly red at that and buries his face in his hands with a groan.

-

Sasha busies herself with getting her ingredients together while Jon wakes up. Before they’d become friends she’d always just kind of assumed he’d be a morning person. He had that air about him at work, sharp and alert even when she was still trying to get her head on. The truth is that while Jon has difficulties getting to sleep, he would happily sleep until mid-afternoon if she let him, so she makes sure to wake him at a decent hour and then goes back to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen back asleep. Since her flat is basically a glorified closet, and Jon sleeps on the sofa, this is not a hard task to keep an eye on.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jon comes and sits himself down at what she generously calls a kitchen table. His hair hangs in curls around his shoulders and he impatiently pushes a hand through it where it covers his face. He’s still sleepy-eyed, the sleeves of Tim’s jumper she’d let him borrow pooling around his hands.

“Good morning.” She says with amusement.

He grunts, flopping into a rickety chair. “Coffee?” He asks.

“All out. Tea alright?”

He nods.

“Great. Kettle is over there.” She gestures vaguely to the area next to the fridge, “Tea is top cabinet.”

Jon sighs, like it’s a great effort for him to make his own tea, but offers no further complaint as he retrieves the kettle and fills it with water.

With Jon out of the way Sasha appropriates the table for more space to set out her scale and bowls. She won’t need anything too fancy today so it doesn’t take long to get set up. She hears the kettle and turns around just in time to see Jon half-way climbing onto the counter. “Jon!” She scolds, similar to the way she would her cat when she was a child.

He freezes and gives her a sheepish grin. “You said top cabinet.”

She did, and she hadn’t thought about the almost foot of height she had on Jon. She snorts and waves him down. “Grab the mugs, I’ll get the tea then.”

He grumbles something about doing it himself but obliges, plucking two mugs from the drying rack.

“Green tea alright?”

Jon makes a dismissive noise. “Black?”

“Out.”

“I’m taking you shopping after this, Sasha James, this is downright unacceptable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands him the box of tea bags and he rolls his eyes at her, muttering as he fills their mugs with water.

“Do you at least have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and gets back to her scale, weighing out her dry ingredients.

“Why are you doing it like that?”

“By weight?”

Jon hums.

“It’s more accurate by weight than by volume, typically.”

“You can’t just, I don’t know, eye-ball it?”

“Jonathan Sims have you ever baked anything in your entire life?”

She takes the jerky shrug he gives in response as a no. She shakes her head and dumps her flour and yeast into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer. Jon hovers there at her shoulder, watching, so close she can almost feel his breath.

It gives her a wicked idea.

She reaches a hand up, like she’s checking something, and then flicks the mixer on high.

Flour explodes from the mixing bowl in a cloud of white, covering her and Jon and the countertop.

The little shriek Jon gives will stay with her for a very long time.

“Why?” He asks, mouth agape and positively covered in flour.

“Because I knew it would be funny.” Sasha says, laughing. There’s flour in her hair, and she’ll definitely need to wash her clothes, but the look in Jon’s wide eyes and the slowly blooming smile on his face is worth it.

It takes less time than she thinks to get everything clean again, and the second time she even allows Jon to help her measure ingredients and start the mixer. He’s very serious about the whole thing, watching the scale with a grim kind of determination like it would mean death if he added just a bit too much yeast to the dough, but it’s the most fun Sasha’s had in forever. By the end of the day she has enough bread to wrap a loaf up for Jon to take home, and he looks at her like she’s just given him the greatest gift he’s ever received.

“Same time next week?” She asks as she wraps his scarf around his neck.

“I suppose.” He says, ducking his head to avoid the kiss she tries to plant on his cheek. “If you’re amenable.”

“I’m amenable.” She says, and kisses the top of his head anyway.

Sasha watches him leave and Jon turns back at the end of the hallway to wave, before disappearing into the stairwell. She laughs, bright and happy, and closes the door.

[keijiluvr]

JUST SOME BOY

Pairings: Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: Implication of cheating, angst

NOTE: this is my first time writing about hq boys so i’m sorry if it might be ooc :( also pls be nice about this, i know it sucks but anyway here you go!

Part 2

Being in a relationship with Atsumu for more than a year now really has been wonderful for you. You felt happy, comfortable and content with him. You make each other happy as giggles and laughter would leave your lips, pulling the other’s body closer to them. Affection wasn’t really an issue as kissing has been normal for the both of you. Subtle hand holding and nuzzling against the other’s neck has been a routine most of the time, eager to just feel the touch of the other. Mornings filled with soft smiles, brushing the other’s hair and leave kisses all over their face.  

Both of you know each other like the back of your hands, being able to know if something’s troubling the other and be able to talk about it and work things out. You were able to support him throughout his struggles especially with volleyball and he’s always there to listen whenever something’s bothering you. It was safe to say that you can imagine yourself staying in this so called fairytale for a very long time. 

But it didn’t last that long. 

It started two weeks ago. That gut feeling that something’s wrong, screaming and begging at you to listen. No matter what you do, it wouldn’t disappear as it clawed its way up to your mind, disturbing your thoughts as it pushed it to the back of your mind and let itself stay inside your head for a while. It’s been bothering you for days. You thought it was just you being paranoid or a common feeling of nervousness but why would you feel like that? 

“Tsum?” 

“Sorry, Coach told me to stay behind to practice more on.” 

You brushed it off, it didn’t really matter to you as long as he got home safely and that he’s okay. This would happen sometimes and you’re always waiting for him in the apartment, ready to reassure and relieve some stress with him. You’ve been his anchor, always keeping everything grounded and steady and he liked it. How come things started changing? 

However, the constant late night practices started happening frequently as excuses kept on piling up. 

“We have an important match coming up. I really have to practice.” 

“Bokuto-san wanted to practice more on his spikes, he needed me.” 

“The team stayed a bit longer to practice some more.” 

That’s when that gut feeling kept nagging at you, resulting in countless negative thoughts running around your mind while you stay in your shared bedroom, alone and awake as the night settled in. Did something go wrong? Did you do something? But then you would feel foolish for having that kind of thoughts. You would reassure yourself, repeating a mantra in your head that everything’s fine, he just needs time to practice. 

It was like a constant play of a broken record inside your head, not letting the fear eat you whole. It was scary, frightening even but you should trust him, you do trust him. 

So you lived as if you have nothing to worry about, understanding that he has to prioritize his career first and that everything will go back to normal soon. He’d start coming home early after the match, you’d feel his skin on yours, the apartment would be filled with laughter and new memories. You hoped it would be like that soon. 

It felt weird, today feels weird for you. It wasn’t that good kind of weird, it was the opposite. Your hands felt clammy, your heartbeat setting an uneven pace and this gut feeling, the familiar gut feeling but much more intense than before. It felt as if something bad is supposed to happen today, as if your body is sending alarming bells to you, trying to warn you about the possible future events that may occur today, that you need to prepare yourself for something. 

But what could it be? 

Going back to reading the text messages you sent to your boyfriend, you felt anxious. Why would he leave you on read? Did something bad happen during their practice today? That might not be the case since someone from the team would’ve called you right away if something happened. You felt silly, crazy even due to how paranoid you are. Who could blame you though? It’s been hours and he hasn’t even thought of replying to your texts. 

You’ve thought about so many possible scenarios, even reaching the point of something happening to the gym. Hell, enough scenarios just to put your mind on edge that causes your legs to shake due to nervousness.  

Reaching for your phone quickly, you inserted the passcode as soon as you heard the familiar ding coming from your phone. 

You bit your lower lip, forcing yourself not to let out a sigh, to show your disappointment. What did you expect though? No matter how hard you try, nothing will change. He prioritizes volleyball over anything. If it’s practice, it’s practice. You should know that by now as you were always there for him, supporting him and cheering him on as he does the thing that he loves. But why can’t you ignore this gut feeling? That same gut feeling that’s been desperate to grab your attention, to make you listen that something is obviously wrong. 

Maybe it’s telling you that an accident might happen so without giving it a second thought, you decided to text the person who you’ve been friends with for a while just to check up on Atsumu.

You were in a state of shock, completely still as you read the message over and over again. Your grip on your phone tightening its hold as your chest felt heavy. Blinking, you haven’t even noticed the tears as they fell, landing on the sheets below you. Your mind whirling with endless amounts of negative scenarios, a bunch of what ifs making your heart ache more. 

But this isn’t the time to mope around and drown in negative scenarios. You need answers, you need to hear the truth and you know the person that can answer every question that you have. 

Atsumu realized that he came home late once again, letting out a sigh as he shut the front door behind him, trying to be quiet as possible too since he noticed how the lights are turned off indicating that you might have fallen asleep. Biting his lower lip, he was on his way to the kitchen to grab something to eat when he noticed someone sitting on the couch. 

“Y/N? You almost gave me a heart attack.” He let out a chuckle, sauntering over to you but felt himself stiffen. 

There you were, hugging your knees close to your chest. Teary-eyed, you looked up at him, “Where were you, Atsumu?” 

“What? I was at practice like everyday.” 

“Don’t lie to me, please.” The way you begged, desperate to know the truth even if it will hurt, even if it will break you. It would be better to know the truth rather than pretending to be living in a healthy and stable relationship with someone you once knew. 

As he stood there, you couldn’t even recognize him anymore. Nothing changed with his physical appearance but it felt like you were talking to a stranger, to someone you barely even know anymore. Your chest tightening as your eyes welling with tears. “Please.” You sobbed 

Holding out his hand, he tried to wipe your tears away. However, you turned your head to the side, not wanting to feel his touch, knowing you’d crumble more in his grasp. Instead, the hand was left hanging in the air as you avoided his gaze, wiping your own tears. Defeated, he sat beside you, watching you carefully. “Did someone tell you?” His voice small. 

You let out a humorless chuckle, wiping your fingers to your shirt as you faced him. “Someone told me some things. You weren’t staying at the gym to practice more, Atsumu. He told me how you would always be the first one to leave practice, always in a hurry yet you always come home late.” You whispered the last few words, voice cracking before clearing your throat. 

Pathetic, you felt pathetic. As the warning bells continued to ring inside your head, you couldn’t help but cling onto one positive thought that maybe, maybe he’s working on something for days and wouldn’t tell anyone. That maybe he was just busy and didn’t think of telling anyone. 

But why would he lie to you? Why would he pretend to be at practice? 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I was planning on telling you but I guess I’ve been a coward for avoiding it. I met someone, Y/N. She makes me happy. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” 

That part of you that has been trying to give you hope started diminishing at his response. That small part of you that was believing and trusting him, the one that you held onto so so so tightly disappeared, leaving you falling into the void.  The fact that all of the effort and progress that you’ve been trying to do lately came crashing down onto you, pushing you further into the darkness. 

It triggered you. His words triggered something beneath you. I was planning on telling you. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. 

Is he being serious? You felt as if he wasn’t being sincere for his actions, for what he did to you. It felt like it had no effect on him that you found out. If you didn’t find out today, would he still keep on doing it? But what pierced through your heart, what kept repeating in your head was those words. She makes me happy.

Did you fail? Were you not enough? Did you not make him happy? 

It felt as if your body moved on its own, standing up abruptly and slapped him across his face. For once, you didn’t regret your actions. He deserved it. Looking down at him, you tried so hard to memorize his face. Before he could utter another word, you were out of his sight. 

You clenched your fist, feeling your palm burning as it serves as a reminder that you hit him before running to your room to pack your things.

“It looks like they’re coming back.” 

Turning around, you eyed the stadium with a soft, little smile. The banner with his team on it proudly shown as people gather to view the details of the upcoming match. Your gaze landed on his picture, content as you saw how happy he looked especially with his teammates. 

That night, it was the last time you saw him. It’s been almost a year now and admittedly, it’s been tough to get back on your feet but you’re almost there. Your heart might still long for him, it might still ache since there are days that the pain becomes unbearable but you’re thankful for the people around you that have been patient enough to guide you back to your feet. 

“Who’s that? It looks like you know him.” Your friend asked, pointing at the guy you’ve been staring at.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just some boy.” 

It might be a long process, the healing but you’re willing to undergo through the long process until you can finally move on from everything without feeling the pain, the ache and the misery. For now, you’re just happy for him for achieving his dreams. 

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Warm

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: This one’s a little spicy, there’s some implied smut and nudity + kissy kissy (it’s really nothing major tho). Fem!reader (only bc he refers to you as his wife). Hmm, bit of hurt/comfort? Just a bunch of fluffy flirting with dashes of angst and spice (okay maybe a lot of angst)

Author’s Note:

Hello! Here’s the long-ass Kiri fic I’ve been working on! This is actually just loosely based on the request—I really took it and ran I guess 😅. I kept changing my mind with what I wanted to happen until I eventually wound up with this!

Ignore how it’s basically Bath Bomb but with Kirishima

Anyway I hope y’all like it!

-Sugar

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⋆｡*ﾟ✲*

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⋆｡*ﾟ✲*

Your consciousness bloomed back into being at the sensation of lips trailing kisses down your shoulders. Daylight pierced into your cracked lids, faintly illuminating your bedroom with the caress of a new sun.

A body pressed up against yours, his broad chest and shoulders wide enough to support the width of your own back. His mouth languidly worked its way over your bare skin; from your back, to your neck, over your shoulder. He moved as if he had all the time in the world, and he was more than willing to spend it all on you.

You hummed and shifted, signaling your newly awakened state. A thick forearm you weren’t previously aware of tightened its grip around your waist, his palm gliding over your stomach and up to your chest. It moved up and down, before finally stopping to give you a gentle squeeze.

“Morning, Eijirou,” you said, a laugh already in your sleep-worn voice.

“Hey, Princess.” His chin slotted in the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his cheek pressing against yours. “Sleep well?” His own voice was so low and quiet and deep in the mornings, making your nerves fire in an odd excitement within you.

“Of course I did,” you smirked, ignoring the stirring in your chest. “I’ve got you.”

He chuckled, and finally a small shiver shot through your body at the sound. “Glad the feeling’s mutual.”

You ducked out from under his chin, turning to your other side in order to face him. His chest pressed against yours as you hugged him back, and you couldn’t help but notice how warm it was under the covers like this. Finally you met his eyes, (E/C) meeting glittering vermillion in the morning sun for a long moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I swear, I married an angel.”

Your heart sped from its steady beat, heat climbing the back of your neck. “Eiji!” you mumbled, flustered, hiding your face between his pecs.

He chuckled again, and at this point, you swore he was doing it on purpose. “It’s true. Gorgeous, perfect—what more could I have asked for?”

You smiled against his skin, and you felt his warm hand gently begin to stroke up and down your back. You cuddled in silence for a minute, growing lost in the touch of the other.

“This is nice,” he sighed, drawing you impossibly closer. “I finally get to spend my whole day with you.”

You lifted your head again to look into his face, smirking. “Is your plan to spend it all in bed?”

He shrugged. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing. Think about it—here, finally alone with me, all warm and snuggly? No stress, no responsibilities, just . . . me. And you. It’s been too long since we’ve had something like that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, perhaps too readily. Eijirou’s face fell. “Hey,” you crooned, taking his cheek in your palm. “I understand you’re busy. You’re out there being the best hero ever. Do you know how proud I am of you? My Red Riot, saving the day out there. It’s worth the wait.”

His ruby eyes glimmered as they affectionately bored into yours, leaning into your touch. “I still feel bad I can’t be here for you like this every day.”

“But then it wouldn’t be as special.” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone, finally pulling him into a kiss. It started out soft, but Eijirou was quick to escalate the gesture. He devoured your lips enthusiastically, just like he always did, licking and nibbling at the skin.

Warm, you couldn’t help but think, as your heart pounded and blood rushed towards your face. Warm as his fingers laced with yours on his cheek, warm as your skin touched without a centimeter separating you.

Kisses with Eijirou were addictive, and once you started, you could scarcely bring yourself to stop. With every push and pull of your lips, it was as if pure joy had flooded your veins. Even after all these years of being together, you basked in the truth that he could still make you feel this way.

His lips pecked the corner of your mouth, then moved down, down to your jaw, then your neck.

“Eiji,” you breathed, a smile tugging your lips up.

He met your eyes again, removing his tongue and teeth just enough to innocently question, “What?”

“I—weren’t we—it really is—” you began, but your brain was already distracted, focusing on the way he sucked and nipped at your skin, moving ever lower.

“Are you actually going to stop me?” he asked, kissing your collarbone.

You gulped. “No.”

It was a few more hours until you got out of bed.

…

“Eiji.”

You spoke his name and tapped him on one shoulder blade, muscled and kissed by the sun. He grumbled, asleep once more, nuzzling closer into your bosom.

“Eijirou, it’s noon,” you said, glancing at your bedside alarm clock and shaking him again.

“So?” he mumbled against your skin.

“So I’m hungry,” you pretended to whine. “Let’s make breakfast. Or lunch. Brunch, yeah.”

He sighed, dramatic, hugging you tight. “But I don’t want to get up.”

“I’ll make us pancakes,” you offered, threading your hands through his soft red hair.

He didn’t move.

“—with extra bacon and sausage,” you added.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours as his chin settled on your chest. “Okay, I’m listening.”

You chuckled, ruffling his bangs and poking at his nose. “Come on, you have to get off of me. We can cuddle again later.”

Eijirou finally straightened, letting you slide out from under him. You both stretched and moved towards your dresser; Kirishima choosing a pair of gray sweatpants while you opted for one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

Eijirou trailed after you to the kitchen, leaning against the counter while you rummaged through the fridge for a few ingredients. Within minutes, you had the batter mixed, and you poured it into the hot pan with a satisfying sizzle. Your husband watched with interest from behind, chin perched on your shoulder and arms resting around your waist.

“That one looks nice,” he’d comment every now and then. “Good job, babe.”

His hands stayed ever-present on your body, mostly resting on your shoulders or hips as you finished making breakfast. You ate with him, making light conversation as you plowed through the stack of pancakes and meat.

When you were done, you spent some time catching up around the house. Eijirou helped you wash the dishes and fold and put away the laundry. He insisted on doing it all by your side, happy to chat while you shared effort on the chores.

“How do you keep up with all this?” he asked, setting one of his t-shirts on the bed, freshly folded. “With your job and everything, it’s amazing that you still do so much.”

You shrugged. “I manage. It’s not so bad. And don’t completely discredit yourself, you still help when you can.”

“Well, of course I do,” he said, carrying a pile of clothes to the dresser. “You shouldn’t have to take care of everything by yourself.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “but you have other things to do that’s more important than dusting behind the TV.”

He came back to your side again, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you in so he could kiss your temple. “I’m just thankful you’re here to keep up with the house.”

“And I’m thankful you’re here to spend time with me today.” You popped up on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, taking the now-empty laundry basket back to the laundry room.

“Would you like to watch a movie together?” you asked when you were back in the doorway. “The evening is young. We can make a snack and go back to cuddling on the couch. How does that sound, huh?” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows, trying to sound convincing.

“Sounds perfect to me, babe,” Eijirou said, striding up to where you leaned against the doorframe. “But I think the only snack here is you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ei-JI—AAA!”

He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, grinning his shark-toothed smile as you laughed.

“I meant popcorn!” you said, pretending to struggle.

Kirishima landed a gentle smack to your behind and made a little pop noise with his mouth.

“Ugh,” you said, going limp.

“Shall we continue to the living room, my lady?” he asked.

“Fine. But I don’t think ladies are supposed to be carried like a sack of potatoes.”

He chuckled, already making his way down the hall. “You’re the finest sack of potatoes I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey!” You landed the softest of punches against his back, still lighthearted in the situation.

He set you down once you were back in the kitchen, going to the pantry to grab a bag of popcorn. You sat on the counter to watch him put it in the microwave.

“I’m always scared I’m going to burn these,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly as he tried to decide on a time to put in.

“I do it for a minute and fifty seconds,” you said, childishly swinging your legs.

He inputted the time as you said, the microwave humming to life as the turntable began to spin. Eijirou turned to you again, moving so he was between your legs. “Now, about my snack.”

You snorted, giggling until he cupped your cheek in his hand. He slotted his lips against yours, pulling your body flush into his. Your hands wandered over his bare skin, tracing the blade of his shoulder before gliding up into his hair. You let your fingers lace through the vibrant red strands, anchoring yourself and pulling him in further. Your legs even went as far as wrapping themselves around his waist, your feet meeting at the small of his back.

Eijirou hummed into your mouth, happy to savor you, glad he was there to hold you. The microwave beeped that it was done and you felt his attention shift momentarily, but soon he was back to cherishing you, getting lost in your taste and your touch. How could he care about anything other than you right now? You were his everything, his world, his reason to be. He kissed you harder, not caring that he was running out of breath. He just wanted more of you, wishing he never had to stop. His hand traced over your thigh, longing for you to somehow be even closer.

The microwave beeped again, impatient that it hadn’t been opened.

“Are you going to get that?” you asked, pulling back.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, but he still insisted on giving you a few more chaste pecks before he moved.

You released him and hopped down, wandering into the living room with your husband right behind you, newly equipped with a steaming bag of popcorn.

“What should we watch?” you mused. “Ooh, how about Star Wars? It’s been a while and I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“Okay,” he said, settling next to you on the couch. It was a good idea. You were right about him liking it, but he’d also seen it enough times that he could place all his focus on you. There was no way he was going to let your little make out session go interrupted like that.

“Why don’t you go turn out the light?” you asked, already turning on the TV.

Eijirou stood, walking up to the switch on the wall. It was then that he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. He flicked the lights off as he fished out the device. He figured it was junk, but then he saw it was his work contact. His heart began to sink.

“Who’s that?” you asked, apprehensive when you saw the expression that had already come onto his face.

“The agency,” he said, voice low and small.

He wanted to think they were just calling because he’d left something in his office. Or maybe it was a mistake and they hadn’t meant to call him at all. But they wouldn’t contact him on his day off like this if it wasn’t an emergency. Kirishima wasn’t so naïve that he’d think otherwise.

What if he just didn’t answer? What if he ignored it and went back to you? You were the one he wanted to spend time with. This was his evening off—your evening to be together.

But he had a job. He had a responsibility. An innocent person’s life could be at risk. What kind of person—what man, what hero—would he be if he selfishly ignored it? His passion demanded sacrifice, and that was just something he had to live with. He only wished that you weren’t the one who always had to get hurt.

He never knew his thumb to feel so heavy as he pressed receive.

You watched him put the phone to his ear, watched his face fall further as it seemed your collective suspicions were confirmed. He shot you an apologetic glance before he briskly strode off in the direction of your bedroom, still listening to what his secretary was saying on the other end.

You looked back to the TV, the ‘st’ still present in the search field from when you’d typed it in only moments before. Sighing, you turned off the screen, sitting back into the couch.

Maybe he wouldn’t be gone long, you thought, chewing on your lip. Maybe you’d still have time to be together when he got home.

But you knew that it was little more than a lie to yourself. You knew he never came back soon.

The front door slammed shut somewhere else in the house, and you were alone again. You lifted your left hand, examining the glittering rubied ring that rested on your finger. The ring that claimed you as his. The ring that had made you a Kirishima.

You twisted it absentmindedly, appreciating the sensation of friction against your skin. You’d known what you were getting into when you’d accepted the ring. You’d known as soon as he’d gotten down on one knee nearly two years ago. Being wed to a hero wouldn’t be easy. Not only were you in danger just being involved with him, you were also going to be alone a lot.

And even still, you’d accepted. You always cherished every moment you were able to have with him. Every cheesy, teasing joke, every kiss, every time he’d come home to you exhausted and tired and dirty—you still loved it. Because you couldn’t even imagine spending your life with another. Maybe in some other reality, you’d find someone who loved you as much, but here, you wanted Eijirou. No matter what it took, you’d be the one waiting for him to come home. It was your shoulder he’d cry on, your chest he’d fall asleep in, your lips that were there for him to claim. And nothing would change that.

You knew how guilty Kirishima felt about leaving you. He didn’t like that he’d essentially forced you into being his housewife, even though you still had a day job of your own and didn’t really mind.

Being a hero is what he wanted to do his whole life. You saw how passionate he was about his job, all the wide, toothy smiles he’d display to the live TV cameras when he’d win another battle. His job was something he loved, and you wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of it. It wasn’t perfect, nor was heroing as glamorous as some made it out to be. But this was his dream, and you would continue to be his number one fan no matter the circumstances. If only it didn’t have to take him away so much . . . .

You munched on a handful of cooling popcorn—not burnt—wondering what you should do with the rest of your night off. You certainly couldn’t spend it sitting by yourself in the dark.

You stood, stretching. This was nothing new for you, you could be independent. But a part of you couldn’t help but selfishly wish it didn’t have to be this way.

…

Kirishima fumbled to put the key in the lock on your door. He’d done his work for the day, he’d won. But had he really?

God only knew what time it was. The house was dark when he opened the door, stepping in and taking off his boots. He knew the drill by now, setting his duffel bag down to rest in the genkan before trudging through the shadowy rooms of his home. Could he even call it his home? Sometimes he wondered if he was still able to say he lived here.

The bedroom door was cracked open. Eijirou peeked in to see your shadowy form asleep, alone on the large mattress in the masses of blankets. He sighed and toed his way into the guest bathroom where he knew he was less likely to disturb you, cringing when he flicked on the bright light.

He caught a look at himself in the mirror as he stripped off the hoodie he wore to and from work. His hair was a tangled mess, sweat and grime still smeared on his skin. The shower sputtered to life, the din of water droplets hitting tile filling his ears. It was almost comforting; letting his thoughts drown to a low, unpleasant hum beneath the sound.

Water rolled over his skin, washing away what should have been his victory. No one’s life had really been in danger today, but he’d still stopped a villain from potentially destroying someone’s business. Why wasn’t he as happy as he should be?

Kirishima wearily went through the motions of taking a shower. He just wanted to fall into your arms and sleep, but first, maybe he should apologize for ruining your evening together. Had he even said goodbye to you as he rushed out the door?

At least he smelled considerably better when he stepped into the bedroom, changed only into a pair of loose basketball shorts. He walked up to your slumbering form, wondering if you’d wake up if he were to try and take you in his arms.

Eijirou already felt like he was in heaven as soon as he felt the soft mattress under his body. He practically melted under the already warmed blankets, the lids of his eyes suddenly feeling like lead weights when his head met his pillow. His arm draped over your side out of habit, pulling you closer into his chest before he even realized what he was doing. You began to stir, and Kirishima frowned. He hadn’t really wanted to wake you.

“Eiji?” you mumbled, still half asleep.

“It’s me,” he whispered in your ear. “I’m home now.”

You ran your hand over your face. “Did you eat? What time is it?”

“Shh, go back to sleep, honey, don’t worry about me.” Eijirou placed a soft kiss on the skin of your neck, rubbing circles on your midsection in an effort to soothe you back to rest.

“But I do worry about you,” you protested, voice still hushed. “I’m your wife.”

He sighed in defeat. “Alright, I haven’t eaten anything,” he confessed, “but I’ll make sure to get breakfast in the morning. I’m too tired right now, I just need to hold you and sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already moving to stand. “It’s not good for you to not eat like this. I’ll get up and reheat something for you—”

“I’m fine. Really, please.” He held you down and nuzzled into your neck, not caring about the way your hair tickled his nose with every breath.

You took his hand, lacing his thick fingers with your own. “Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “They just needed some emergency backup. I’m sorry I ruined movie night.”

“Oh, honey, it isn’t your fault.”

Eijirou sighed again. “I know.”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“You never are,” he mumbled, and there was a strange bitterness to it that made you frown.

“Well, it’s a part of your job—”

“Why can’t you just be angry with me?” he interjected. “Why don’t you hate me for having a job that always takes me away from you?”

You froze at his outburst, shocked. “Eijirou—?”

“I—I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, instantly regretting the way he’d spoken to you. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, baby.” You turned onto your back, shuffling so Kirishima could lay his head on your chest. “There’s something going on. Please talk to me.”

He nuzzled closer into you again, holding you in his arms as your fingers began to twirl around his hair. “I just wish I didn’t have to leave you so much,” he admitted softly. “I want to be here for you.”

“But you love your job, right?”

“Of course I do.” He looked up at you so his chin rested in the valley of your chest. “But I love you more. And I feel like I don’t show that to you enough.”

You brushed his bangs out of his face, your hand moving down so your thumb could stroke his cheek. “Eiji, I know you love me.”

“Yeah . . . ,” he trailed off. “But I want to show you. Every day, like I did when we were younger. I don’t feel like it’s manly for me to leave you here by yourself all these nights, and come home late, and not be around. You deserve better than that. I want to contribute more. I want to be here for you. What if—what if something happened to you and I couldn’t protect you?” His voice seemed to break at the thought, his arms wrapped around you squeezing you even tighter.

You hummed, taking in his laments, fingers still carding through his long red hair. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now,” you murmured, hoping to soothe him with your actions, “but you should know by now that I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

He nodded against your hand, but his shadowed face still looked glum.

“And yes, I miss you and I wish we had more time for each other, but I’m sure that someday it’ll change. Your job is tough right now, Ei, but this is your dream. Every day, you’re doing amazing things and I couldn’t be more proud of you. This is what you want to do in life, right?”

He nodded again. “Of course.”

“Then I’m going to support you. If this is what comes with being a hero, then we’ll just have to . . . adapt. Take things as they come, you know? You’ve got a lot on your plate and I want to help you. I know you doubt yourself sometimes and it only gets worse when you’re tired like this.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, voice a little airy and distant. He took your hand in his and began to press slow kisses to your palms and knuckles. You could see the shine of his eyes becoming more obscured by the droop of his lids.

“Maybe you can try to get a week off next time?” you suggested. “And maybe tell Bakugou to hire better back up so you won’t have to get called in like that.”

“A whole week with you,” he mused, sighing. “I’d get spoiled at that rate.”

You bent forward to kiss his forehead, smirking. “It’s nothing you don’t deserve. Either way, we’ll talk about this later, sleepyhead. You still have to go in tomorrow. Maybe it was a good thing we slept in today.”

He chuckled, turning the both of you on your sides and sliding up so he could have better access to kiss all over your face. You couldn’t help but smile at his gentle, languid movements; still determined to display his love for you even half-asleep.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your cheek. “Coming home to you. I just feel so . . . comfortable around you.”

“You should,” you said, poking the tip of his nose. “I’m your wife.”

“Yeah. But you’re also like, warm and stuff.”

Was he even still conscious at this point?

“Goodnight, Red.”

“Goodnight, my little lovebug.”

And so you began to drift off with him. You had to admit, it had been cold and lonely sleeping without him. But now his presence overwhelmed you in all the right ways, from his fresh-out-of-the-shower scent to the feeling of his arms caging you in against his chest. You felt comfortable, yes, but also warm. 

So warm.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⋆｡*ﾟ✲*

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre​ @basicaegyo​ @hyunmin-1404​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sxngwoos-ash-box​ @xoxopam4​

[writingfromkitchenator]

Gabriel ~ Karma

Alphabet Challenge Masterlist (700 Followers)

Masterlist

Based on imagine found here by @spn-imagines-nation

Words: 1,617

Warnings: Female Reader, family fighting, mild angst, fluff, making out

Sam was looking at you guilty, while Dean just sat there looking unimpressed.  You were breathing hard, having just yelled at them, your face flush with anger, your hands clenched by your side, and you hated was that all you could smell was the stale air of the motel room.

“Well?”  You snapped.

“Well what?”  Dean asked.  “You really expect us to answer that after you just blew up in our faces?”

Your stomach boiled in anger, making you feel slightly nauseous.  “Do you two care about my privacy at all?”

“Of course we do,” Sam said quickly, earning an eye roll from Dean.  “We’re just trying to be careful at the moment because of-”

“Bullshit!”  You snapped.  “You’re being as overbearing and protective as you’ve always been!  I hunt with you for fucks sake!  I’ve taken down werewolves and vampires and demons! I think I can handle my own fucking personal affairs when it comes to guys!”

“We know that,” Dean shrugged.  “But you’re still forbidden from sleeping with any of them.”

Dean was so lucky in that moment that he was your brother, otherwise you had little doubt you would’ve done something far worse that call him several less than pleasant names before storming from the room and slamming the door after you.  They tried to call after you, tried to chase after you, but you were far quicker than either of them.

When you’d finally stopped running, and your heart had stopped pounding in your ears over the effort and your anger, you kept walking, kicking a stone along the ground, muttering under your breath.  The nerve of the two of them to be involved in your personal affairs when you ensured you more than stayed clear of theirs was astounding.  To go into your private things too!  It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to take care of yourself.

“I was starting to wonder whether something had happened.”

You sighed, running your hand through your hand as you stopped, having completely forgotten about what you’d been getting ready for when you had found your brothers in your things.  “I’m sorry Gabe.  I just…I just had a massive fight with Sam and Dean, made me completely forget about things.”

Gabriel smiled and shrugged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders so the two of you could walk together.  “That’s alright sugar, I know how family can get.  Are you alright?”

“No,” You huffed, staring at your feet.  “I may as well be grounded again, like some damned teenager.  I really think you were right when you said I should set out off on my own.”

He gave your shoulders a slight squeeze.  “Hey now, don’t go making rash decisions when you’re emotional, that’s for those two to do. I’m not saying not to get away from them of course, but make sure you think it over properly.  I don’t want to be responsible for throwing you to the wolves.”

You give him a sidelong look.  “I thought that’s what you were for?”

Gabriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling at you.  “I’m there to protect you from said wolves’ sugar, not hand you over to them.  I wouldn’t have asked you on a date if I was just going to do that now, would I?”

Smiling, you shook head. “Sorry about ruining it.”

“Ruining it?”  Gabriel scoffed.  “Are we not on a nice romantic stroll right now?”

“I’d hardly call it romantic when I’m upset and you’re comforting me,” You said, a little bitterly. “Believe it or not Gabe, I was actually really looking forward to tonight.  We both know that we’re been dancing around this for a long time.”

Gabriel’s step faltered for a moment before he sighed, smiling at you affectionately.  “And here I thought that you hadn’t noticed.  Well, I guess we’re just going to have to make it up to each other, huh?”

You returned his smile and kissed his cheek softly.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

As his cheeks flushed, an idea came to him, one that he knew would make you feel better, a grin coming to him as his eyes sparked mischievously.  “Oh, I have just the thing sugar.  It’s going to get a little revenge on those brothers of yours too.”

You didn’t ask many questions, you decided it was better not to, putting all your trust into whatever Gabriel told you to do the next day.  You weren’t talking to your brothers, but you still went along with them as you began tracking down a few witnesses for the latest hunt.  Dean seemed unperturbed, but Sam kept glancing between the two of you, as if wanting to say something that might return some peace to your small family.

Eventually, several witnesses later, and it led the three of you to a bar, where another had agreed to meet you, and you were tasked with getting drinks.

As you waited for the bar tender, someone slid in next to you.  “You’re looking a little lonely there.”

A retort was quickly lost on your tongue as you looked at Gabriel, having expected anyone else, but now you suddenly knew why he asked you to keep him up to date of your movements for the day.

He was waiting for the perfect opportunity.

You smirked.  “Lonely is not exactly the word I would use.”

Gabriel winked at you, his grin widening.  “Well, I’m sure I could fix that.”

A small curl of nervousness washed over you.  “They don’t know it’s you?”

He shook his head.  “As far as they are concerned, I’m just a very good looking stranger.”

“Uh huh,” You giggled a little, ignoring the bar tender as the drinks were placed in front of you, your entire attention on the angel.  “Well, I’m glad I can still see you properly then, because I much prefer you like this.”

Gabriel beamed.  “Come here then sugar.”

Sam and Dean had quite successfully been talking to the witness, completely distracted by it until Dean went to take a drink from the drink he didn’t have.  He frowned, realising you hadn’t come back yet and instantly looked around for you, Sam quickly realising the same.

“Oi!”

Gabriel’s arm had pulled you close, wrapping securely around your waist, his other hand resting on the back of your neck.  Your hands were bunched into his shirt, holding him as close as possible, and right in that very moment, the prank itself didn’t even matter.

The two of you had kissed before but nothing was comparing to this.

It was hungrier than the two of you had originally intentioned, lips moving together effortlessly, tongues teasing the others, and even as commotion broke out near you, neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

At least until Dean’s fist made contact with Gabriel’s jaw.

“Dean!”  You screamed and quickly stood in the way, not allowing him to get any closer as Gabriel rubbed his jaw, still looking no less amused at the fury in the Winchester’s expression.

“Keep your hands of my sister,” Dean growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “And I suggest leaving now.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “If I go, she goes.  The two of you did interrupt our date last night after all.  We were simply trying to catch up for lunch.”

Dean’s narrowed on him. “Who the hell do you think you are? You will stay-”

“You will stop butting in!” You snapped, squaring off to Dean as his eyes locked onto you.  “I have a right to be happy Dean.”

Dean stared at you for a long moment, a lot of things suddenly going on behind his eyes, Sam gently resting a hand on his shoulder.  “Come on dude, leave her be.  Let her have this.”

There was a tense moment as Dean still doesn’t move, before he grunts, and grabbed the drinks that you’d all but forgotten about.  “You could’ve at least brought our drinks over first.”

Sam grimaces and gives you a nod, before hurrying after him, noise slowly returning to the bar, making you huff.

Gabriel chuckled as his arm returned around your waist, his lips pressed against your ear.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You let him lead you and once the two of you were well out of earshot and eyeshot, Gabriel started laughing.  You knew you should be too, but you couldn’t help but stare at the red mark on his jaw.

“Are you alright?” You asked, making him stop and look at you, smiling.

“Of course I am,” Gabriel pulled you to him, kissing your forehead.  “I’m an archangel Y/N.  It takes much more than a punch, even from Dean Winchester, to even wound me.”

You finally sighed and smiled.  “I have to admit, that was not the reaction I was expecting.”

His eyes shone, even as he beamed.  “No, but it worked.  Damned good dose of karma for them.”

You chuckled and nodded. “I wouldn’t call it karma, but I suppose seeing your sister making out with someone will have some sort of lasting effect, no matter how much they try and forget it.”

Gabriel winked at you. “Shall we go somewhere private and continue that lovely session?”

Heat flushed your cheeks, even as you laughed.  “Is that the date make up is it?”

“Something like that.”

You shook your head, still smiling, taking his hand.  “Sam and Dean are going to be so angry over this.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “It doesn't matter, what does, is that they will remember.  Remember not to mess with my girl, that is.”

Smiling, you kissed his cheek again, making him beam and quickly lean in to capture your lips again, the two of you almost instantly disappearing.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship: Together

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Thank you all for your patience and happy reading!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption.

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AO3 version

“Really, I insist.”

“And I insist you sit down and relax while we finish preparing your party,” Lilia says as he pushes Malleus back down in his seat; the grand stone throne at the top of the double staircase in Diasomnia’s main lounge room. “We’re nearly done, anyway!”

Malleus tries to argue that setting out a few plates of food or lighting a few candles himself is no big issue, but Lilia skips away before he can get another word in. He continues to watch as the rest of his dorm mates decorate and rearrange the lounge into a grand venue befitting a birthday bash. Every so often, he checks his phone and rereads the last few messages you sent to him. You wrote you would arrive soon and would inform him when you were outside. He was getting antsy the longer he waits. There was even a moment where he was unsure if you knew the way to his dorm and panic-offered to escort you just in case. He snuck out for you once, and he’d do it again if you only asked.

The somber doorbell rings, and he immediately shoots up onto his feet. Lilia excuses himself so he can answer the door, but Malleus quickly descends the stairs and catches him by the shoulder before he can leave the room. “I’ll get it,” he says, leaving no room for a rebuttal from his caretaker. He hears several shouts of his name and approaching footsteps, but no one completely follows him into the halls, most likely thanks to Lilia holding them back. Even as he puts more and more distance between him and the venue, he swears he can hear the elder fae’s playful giggles echoing in the distance.

He picks up his already hurried pace at the sound of the bell ringing again. He’s a bit out of breath by the time he reaches the door and takes a few moments to straighten up and calm his pounding heart before welcoming you in. His efforts to appear calm and collected are all for naught, as he feels his breath being taken away when he opens the door and sees you. While you’re always wonderfully dressed, seeing you dressed in attire that is just a smidge more formal and fanciful strikes a carnal chord he didn’t know existed till this very moment. Black and green are the signature colors of Diasomnia. While your dress shirt isn’t the traditional vibrant green, instead it is a dark and rich hue, he can’t help but wonder if it would be too rude or outright ridiculous to ask you to wear it more often.

“Hey!” you greet with a bright smile on your face. “See? I made it here just fine.”

“Thank goodness,” he lets out a relieved sigh. “I thought I may have had to pick you out of a thorn bush.”

You let out a hearty laugh at his comment as he ushers you inside. He observes you as you look around and take in the decor of his dorm. While the architecture of Diasomnia is a typical design within the Valley of Thorns, his own home especially, he knows from a few off-handed comments that some students find the dorm gloomy and even downright unwelcoming. He supposes the green flames that bathe the walls and windows in an ominous glow can be a bit intimidating to those not used to them, but you don’t appear bothered by it at all. In fact, you’re dragging him in the opposite direction of the lounge and insisting that he show you around his dorm.

“I’m not leaving ‘till I see your room,” you firmly state.

“Why would you want to see my room?” he asks.

“Y’know?” You point back and forth between him and yourself. “You’ve seen my room, so now I get to see your room.”

That sounds awfully familiar.

“What is your name, child of man?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you answer nonchalantly, completely unintimidated or disturbed by his presence. “What’s yours?”

His eyebrows furrow with annoyance. “It is proper to give your name when asked.”

“That isn’t how mutual introductions work where I’m from,” you scoff. “You’re supposed to give me your name, and then I give you mine.” you point back and forth between you and himself to better emphasize your explanation. As if you were trying to make sense of the difference between right and wrong to a child.

He feels the urge to growl in the back of his throat. “You’re rather ill-mannered, human.”

“I don't think any reasonable person would feel safe giving out their name to a tall guy with horns, wandering around an abandoned dorm that’s seen better days,” you bite back. “You aren’t making a great case for yourself either.”

After his mind finishes playing back the very first memory and conversation he has of you, he gently grabs you by the shoulder and leads you in the opposite direction. “Very well,” he concedes.

He guides you down several long halls, past the other standard-sized dorm rooms and other empty rooms. The large double doors of his room eventually come into full view, and when you turn and ask him if that was his room, you give him a giddy smile when he confirms it is. His room is rather plain. The only personal items he has are a few pennants above his desk given to him by Lilia many decades ago, and a giant statue shaped as the Witch of Thorn’s dragon form. While there isn’t anything in particular that he’s embarrassed by you seeing, he worries you might find the lack of personal decor boring, upsetting even. You have little else in your room as well, but compared to his it may as well be a treasure trove.

“Huh,” you step in and look back and forth, taking in his private space in all its unassuming glory. “So this is what a dorm leader’s room is like!”

The first place that catches your interest is the bed, which you unashamedly fall back on, arms spread out to bask in the space underneath you. If seeing you on his bed wasn’t enough to stir his heart, it would be the fact that another one of your shirt buttons came undone, exposing more of your collarbones and the middle of your chest to his obsessive gaze.

“Damn, I’d kill for a bed this big,” you grumble. “Do you know how much of a pain it is, sleeping with a bunch of full-grown wolves, four newborn pups, and a steadily growing deer?”

“You can always order them out of your room at night,” he suggests.

You fall back on his bed again with a groan. “Believe me, I’ve tried! They nearly scratched my door off and kept me up all night with their loud howling.”

You and your deep, unspoken love for animals. It seems it’s coming back to bite you in small ways. “You’re much more pliable than I thought!” he says, laughing behind his palm.

“Whatever,” you lift yourself and give a dismissive wave with your hand. Something catches your eye, as you look him up and down before tilting your head inquisitively. “Aren’t you supposed to have a sash with your outfit?”

He is, but what you don’t know is that he purposely left it in his closet, hoping you would notice and bring it up as you did just now. The reason and overall style of this birthday suit perplexed Malleus, but he’ll admit that it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when the headmaster dropped it off the other day. He was actually hoping it would be you that presented it to him as you did with Lilia’s identical outfit on his birthday. However, that one time was because the headmaster had another obligation and handed the task to you last minute. It was the first time Malleus saw you since the end of the winter break, when his love confession went awry. It was awkward and nerve-racking, as to be expected considering how things went. But when you smiled and called him “tsunotarou” (much to Sebek’s disdain), it helped affirm the words the two of you had been exchanging over the phone, that you and he are still friends and that you still cared about him.

As he had hoped, you quickly offer to put the sash on for him when he mentions it still being somewhere in his wooden wardrobe. Your movements are swift and unassuming, but he can’t help the way his shoulders tense up when you put your arm around him to wrap the sash around his torso. Once the strip of fabric is properly secured, you run your hands over his clothes to smooth out the small wrinkles and bunched-up fabric. Your actions feel like a burst of electricity against his skin, even though there were several layers of clothes separating your bare flesh from his.

You casually wipe your thumb over the purple gem on his lapel pin before saying, “White suits you.”

“Is that so?” He timidly raises his hands to button up your dress shirt, just the one button that was undone earlier. He knows you hate having it buttoned up all the way. “I thought you said red suited me best?”

“I still think it does!” you chuckle. “But I’ve never considered you in something white until now. I guess I have to make you a white coat now.”

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “The one you made for me is fine as it is.”

“That’s good,” you smile. “All those years of helping my aunt sew and mend clothes for my cousins finally came in handy.”

“That would be your second aunt, correct?”

You’re visibly surprised at his comment, but you quickly give him a rather adorable smile. “That’s right!” you chant. When he asks you why you’re smiling so sincerely, you answer, “You’re the first person who’s been able to tell which of my aunts I’m talking about without naming them.”

“You speak of them often, so it’s expected that I’d be able to distinguish who you’re referring to after some time.”

“Well, shut me up if I mention them one too many times,” you insist, eyes averted from his own as you fidget with the ribbon tails of his celebratory bow near his breast pocket, his birth month and day were written with shimmering gold foil.

“Nonsense,” he frowns, redirecting your gaze to him so he can look you in the eyes. “They’re your family. If they’re important to you, then they are to me as well.”

While it’s true that you speak or make a frequent mention of your aunts during your many late-night strolls with him, Malleus’s ability to tell which one you’re referring to is mostly due to him carefully listening to each of your stories like they were gospels, writing seemingly rudimentary information down in his private journal to later read back by himself. Initially, he kept a record because your stories about the life you’ve lived alongside your rather rambunctious human family intrigued him. As his infatuation for you grew, he hoped that by showing you he remembers these moments of your life that you’ve shared with him, it would be a clear sign that he deeply cared not just about you, but also the family you deeply care for.

“Honestly,” you sigh and give him a playful look. “You really know how to tug on my heartstrings, don’t you?”

Malleus has done his best to remain calm and composed in your presence ever since he came to terms with his feelings towards you. As always, you shatter his efforts completely just by being your genuine self, open and honest with your thoughts. You seem to relish his red-faced meltdown, pulling him into a comforting hug while also laughing at him. He hopes you don’t think it strange, the way he seamlessly leans against you and melts in your arms. There’s a pleasant fragrant he picks up in your hair, fresh and floral, specifically like roses. He knows you like to make and use rose water every once in a while to keep your skin moisturized and your hair healthy. His heart is on the verge of bursting through his chest, thinking about you using it specifically with him in mind.

Is this your way of enticing him? It’s not much, but it’s working.

You pull away from him when your phone briefly rings. “Looks like they finished,” you announce as you skim over the newly received message, most likely from Lilia. “We should probably head there now before Sebek gets impatient and hunts you down like a rabbit.”

At the mention of his well-meaning, but loud retainer, Malleus and you leave his room and walk back to the venue together. Along the way, he acts bold and grabs your hand as you hurriedly walk side by side. You don’t pull away when his fingers interlock with yours. Instead, you squeeze and swipe the callus pad of your thumb over his knuckles, a silent assertion that his gesture is okay with you. A shy smile adorns his face. When he spares a glance over at you, he sees one as well.

“I know it’s only been 5 days,” he nervously mentions aloud. “But is it safe for me to presume that you already have an answer?”

“Pretty much,” you casually answer, but you still sounding quite sure of yourself. It sends his heart, mind, and body into a hopeful frenzy. “But as you said, it’s only been 5 days. I still have 2 more days left before my deadline hits and I’m taking all the time I’ve given myself.”

That cheeky tone of yours doesn’t go amiss. In normal Ramshackle fashion, you’re going to keep him at his wits’ end for your own amusement. He doesn’t know if he should feel more annoyed or more enchanted by you. Perhaps a mix of both? Truly, only you can make him feel this way.

“Honestly,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “You are by far the most troublesome human I’ve ever met.”

He halts his hurried pace. And you do as well. He grasps your still intertwined hands together with his other hand, holding it carefully like they were as fragile as glass. Your skin is covered in scars, both recent and old, that came from years of foraging and enduring the natural difficulties of mother nature. However, to him, these permanent markings are more precious than the rarest gem or the finest silk. Your hand is neither too large nor too small within his. It sits just right within his grasp like they were made for him to hold and caress as he is doing now.

“I suppose that makes you the person that you are,” he smiles down at you after letting out a curt laugh. “and it is you who I love and cherish immensely, with all that I am and ever will be.”

Perhaps it is in poor taste to repeat the same words he first told you during his initial confession, but there are no other words he could weave together that can equally convey to you the extent of his feelings other than these. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself. He knows that he’s agreed to abide by the time you’ve asked of him. His words are his bond, literally and figuratively.

He’s just so damn in love with you. He’s willing to act a bit more reckless than he usually is just to expedite the days where he can have you by his side and be together with you at last.

He barely catches it, but thanks to the quiet halls, he’s able to pick up the mumbled words you speak. “You’re making me lose my sense of patience, dammit.”

“Young master!” Sebek’s booming voice echoes down the hallways before Malleus can press your comment further on. His impending presence is enough to make you let go of one of him and take a step back to set some space between you and him. “Where are you?!”

He was much closer than he sounded, as you and Sebek nearly topple over each other when you both turn down the same corner. Thankfully, Malleus acts quickly enough and catches you before you could fall to the ground, and you thank him shortly after you’ve righted yourself up.

Malleus looks up at Sebek and asks, “Why on earth are you sprinting down the halls?”

“The human has failed to respond to Sir Lilia’s message, so he sent me to retrieve you both!” Sebek states, a bit too loudly for your liking as you click your tongue and rub your temples to relieve the growing headache. Malleus has assured you that Sebek’s volume is something you’ll grow accustomed to. It seems the day has yet to come.

“Well, we’re here,” you halfheartedly try to reassure the boy. “So can you please use your inside voice?”

“You!” now it was Sebek’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Did I not give you an hour-long lecture on proper attire for the occasion?! Today is Master Malleus’s birthday, and you look no different from what you look like any other day!”

“What?!” you look at his retainer with utter bewilderment. “I am dressed up! I even went out and bought a damn blazer just to fall in line with your strict rules!”

“You’re not wearing it properly!” Sebek gestures to your rolled-up sleeves and the two undone buttons of your dress shirt. “Honestly, I expected better conduct from you, prefect!”

“Just shut up and walk, Zigvolt!” you fume and push the young fae down the hall, ignoring his continuous strings of scoldings and high expectations of you. “I’m not in the mood!”

You turn back to Malleus, who silently follows a few steps behind Sebek and you ahead of him. Malleus has to bite his tongue as you make a choking gesture, most likely directed towards Sebek, with one of your hands. He puts his hand up in defense, not wanting to get involved in your ongoing argument with his retainer. Whenever you and Sebek are together, willingly or otherwise, the two of you often butt heads. Your arguments are never too serious. Malleus knows that if he gives you two some space, you’ll both work out whatever it is you’re arguing about and go back to respectfully tolerating each other as per usual.

He wants to ask you about this supposed lecture Sebek gave you about how you should dress. It sounds equally intriguing as it does ridiculous. Unlike Sebek, he thinks you’re dressed rather well tonight.

The scent of roses in your hair is proof enough that you’ve taken some of Sebek’s words to heart, even if he says otherwise.

The food is delicious despite its unusual colors. The cake, although baked by Lilia, was fluffy and not overly sweet like you expected it to be. Your biggest fear of the night was walking into a dorm full of faes who are just as headache-inducing and strict as Sebek is, but thankfully there’s only one of him in the entire dorm! Some students were still standoffish and threw you a few too many nasty looks than you would normally tolerate. Thankfully, there were some students you remember helping out of their dubious contract with Azul during exams week and welcomed you with open arms. They followed you around like a bunch of ducklings, eagerly insisting you try some dishes they specifically made for tonight’s festivities. Whether they genuinely admired you or simply wanted to make even with you for your help, they are a pleasant distraction from your interactions with Malleus earlier.

Love is a strange thing. Unlike a deer, you can’t predict its next movements or manipulate it to a point of disadvantage. Whether you love someone poorly or properly, love isn’t the same across the board. The love you have for your ghostly dorm mates back in ramshackle is comparable to the love you have for your family, precious and irreplaceable. You can share the same sentiments for your flourishing entourage of forest animals you take care of. You even have a bit of love for Grim, even if he wears your patience thin every other day with his dim-witted cockiness.

You’ve been in a few relationships before, but they went nowhere meaningful. They were relationships built upon a foundation of opportunity and convenience, not of mutual affection and a desire for lifelong companionship. You’re also a creature of habit, so the idea of breaking your hard-fought routines puts you on edge, even if it’s for someone you care about. There’s also the fact that you’ve sworn to yourself to not get too involved with the people in this strange world. You don’t want anyone, or even yourself, to feel saddened or at a loss when it comes time for you to depart. You don’t want to inconvenience anyone if you can avoid it. When you return home, you just want to brush this entire experience off as a long and complex dream.

But how can you brush someone like Malleus off as a figment of your imagination? How can you simply forget all those nights you spent talking with him, laughing with him, genuinely connecting and bonding with another person outside your immediate family for the first time in a long while? How can you continue to tell yourself that you won’t get too involved or become attached to anyone in this twisted world after you’ve gone and fallen in love with one of its inhabitants?

You love Malleus, truly, wholeheartedly, and for far longer than you initially thought. You love him, but not to a blind point where you cannot realize that loving him isn’t as simple as acting upon your innermost desire. Even if the feelings you have for one another are mutual, what then? What will a relationship with a fae, a royal fae, entail? Few think highly of humans. Sebek is a living example that there are even faes who actively dislike and look down upon humans. Malleus is at the very top of the social hierarchy, while you are on the very bottom; a magicless human from a completely different world. That’s another problem! What happens once the way back to your home is finally unearthed?

You love Malleus, but no matter how you look at it, a relationship with him sounds nothing more than an outlandish fairytale. Your friendship with him is still a rather delicate issue. You aren’t particular about what others think of your involvement with him, but he can’t exercise the same amount of dismissal of public opinion as you do. He  has  to worry about what others think of him, because eventually he’s going to be king, and a king can’t flourish if his people think ill of him.

It makes you wonder why he fell in love with you, the most perilous person he could have ever met and involved in his delicate lifestyle.

“Having fun over here?” A playful voice interrupts your deep thinking. Lilia has one of his arms thrown over your shoulder, a gloved hand firmly squeezing you for comfort and bringing you closer to his side.

Despite his petite stature and his boyish looks, you knew from the moment you locked eyes with him on the first day of the school year that he was much older and wiser than he let on. In fact, he’s old enough that he’s been mentioned in a few footnotes in a history book or two. You even cited him as a source for a thesis essay just for a few laughs. He even has a copy in his room. It wouldn’t surprise you if he has it framed and hung on his wall. He’s a very sentimental man.

“Do you need a moment to breathe?” he asks, concern discernible in his voice.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you plead.

“Not at all,” he nods assuringly before excusing him and yourself from the small group of boys you’ve been entertaining for the past hour. He leads you out to a quiet balcony and you bask in the cool night air once the doors behind you are closed. Once outside, you take in a much-needed deep breath and lean yourself against the balustrade railing. He quickly excuses himself again and returns with two flutes filled with a bubbly drink.

“What is this?” you ask, swirling the contents around with caution.

“It’s champagne,” he answers.

You give a quick sniff. It certainly smells like it. “Isn’t everyone here too young to drink?”

“Yes.” He clinks his glass against yours before throwing you a cheeky wink. “But we aren’t.”

That’s good enough of an explanation to have you down the much-needed alcohol in one shot. Lilia takes careful sips instead, but once he finishes his drink, he heads back and brings the entire bottle of bubbly wine for you to finish with him. It’s been a while since the two of you drank together. Lilia has an expensive palette, so you’ve quickly learned to cherish each selection he brings for these monthly get-togethers.

You gesture to the dark bottle. “How old is this?”

“Half a decade. Nothing too fancy,” he tells you while pouring himself another glass. “It’s certainly better than whatever it is you brought last time we got together.”

“Unlike you, I like a little kick in my drinks,” you explain.

“Well, I’m not exactly fond of the sensation of my throat burning up with searing pain,” As if you emphasize his point, he massages around his small Adam’s apple. “No wonder you’re so rough around the edges.”

“That’s a low blow and you know it Vanrouge,” you pour the last bit of champagne in your glass before setting the bottle down by your feet.

“How low?”

”Right in my gut.”

“Then I suppose I’ll need to make it up to you over another bottle,” he subtlety suggests. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Nothing too strong. I’d rather not get hammered in front of a bunch of teenagers.”

He offers a bottle of red wine he’s been meaning to pop open for a while and you accept without a fuss. He takes the empty bottle of wine and tells you to hang tight while he gets the next one. You’re left alone for a few minutes before someone enters the area and settles right next to you. It’s Malleus, who looks just as out of sorts as you certainly look and feel.

“Needed a moment to breathe?” you ask.

“Yes, but I also noticed you were missing and came to find you,” he admits. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile reassuringly at him. “Just out of my element a bit.”

“I’m sorry,” he looks so downtrodden that it makes your heart sink. “I had every intention of being close by you for most of the evening, but I’ve been busy speaking with the others that I-“

“Hey, relax!” you stop him before he can devolve any further. “Today’s your day, not mine. Besides,” you lift your empty glass for him to see. “Lilia is keeping me company.”

“Why is it that whenever I see you two together, there’s alcohol involved?”

“In my defense, he’s the one who offered,” you explain, but he doesn’t seem that convinced or assured. “It’s been a while since I’ve had champagne! And it’s a special occasion!”

“I’m not opposed to you drinking, but after what happened last time, I can’t exactly trust you two to pace yourselves or get your hands on something far too potent than either of you can handle.”

He’s talking about the last time you and Lilia drank. You’re not sure what it is the old man brought, but whatever it was, neither of you could stop drinking it even after you two were well past your limits. You both blacked out early in the evening and woke up with one of the worst hangovers in your life. Malleus knew well beforehand that you and his caretaker drank together. He’s even joined a few of your drinking sessions, despite not being fond of alcohol himself. But he certainly did not expect to deal with not only one, but two easily agitated and out of touch individuals the next day.

You still don’t know what was in that bottle.

“Malleus!” A newly arrived Lilia perks up when he sees the man of the hour next to you. “Have you come to drink with us?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answers, immediately followed by the two of you whining in disappointment. “Seriously, what is it with you two and alcohol?”

“You make it sound like we’re alcoholics. Which we aren’t!” you protest, eagerly watching as Lilia opens the bottle and pours you both the first glass of many more to come. “We only get together like this once a month.”

“We used to share a few glasses once a week at some point,” Lilia says as he hands your drink. “But that’s a bit too frequent for these old bones.”

“Says the man that downed half a dozen bottles of beer back in September,” you purposely bring up.

“I didn’t know it was alcohol!” Lilia shrills. “If I did, I would have paced myself better.”

You look over to Malleus and shake your head in disapproval. Your action makes him chuckle, and the urge to fidget with the stem of your glass comes down on you. He really does a great laugh. You’re not sure if it’s your genuine feelings or the alcohol that’s making your heartbeat faster after hearing it. For the sake of your sanity, you’re just going to blame the wine for making you feel more infatuated than usual.

As you and Lilia steadily empty another bottle together, the older fae feels compelled to tell you a story or two about Malleus when he was younger. Despite the latter’s protests, you insist and listen intently about the many times Malleus singed Lilia’s hair as a baby with his fire hiccups or the few instances he’s gotten lost on his quest to sightsee every single gargoyle around the castle. It’s never a proper birthday party without a relative sharing embarrassing baby stories with random guests.

After the second battle goes empty, Malleus suddenly asks you if you would like to walk around the dorm grounds for some much-needed air, Since he’s the birthday boy, you agree right off the bat, only after you get a glass of water in you to help stave off the wine a bit. Lilia gently reminds you both not to stay out for too long, otherwise, Sebek’s worrisome nature might get the better of him and he’ll put together a makeshift search party. If you hadn’t had a few glasses of wine, you wouldn’t have found Lilia’s comment as funny as you did at the moment. You’re a tad tipsy, but not drunk enough that you feel yourself acting or thinking too out of character or lose your sense of balance and trip over your own two feet.

“So, where are we going birthday boy?” you nudge him with your elbow. “Are you going to push me into that thorn bush now?”

“But of course,” he laughs. “I just wish for further respite, that’s all.”

Just as you’re about to mention that people usually like to step away from a crowd by themselves, you feel his smooth fingers interlock with your hand once again. He takes you around the back of the dorm where the expansive and well-attended hedge garden is located. The dark-colored bushes are blanketed in blankets of snow, and more green fires are flickering atop the lantern poles lined along the stone pathways. It’s been a while since the two of you went on a nightly stroll like this. They started out as either you or Malleus running into each other by pure chance and just going along with the lucky encounters. Soon your run-ins became much more intentional and a regular part of your schedules.

He’s the first to break the silence. “May I ask you a strange question?”

“Of course you can,” you nod your head, admiring the wooden gazebo the two of you have now settled underneath for a moment. “Isn’t that why we go on these walks, to ask each other a bunch of odd questions?”

It goes without saying that, due to your racial differences, there were a lot of questions burning in each of your minds about your differing ways of life and upbringings. Most of your questions were innocent and came from a place of wanting to learn and take into consideration his boundaries as a fae. As you grew more comfortable with each other, thus more open and honest, the more comfortable you felt to ask him more personable questions. However, you usually have to answer your own question first before he gives his response in return. You find that this is usually the case when conversing with a Fae. They won’t give until you give back something of equal value.

“In my defense, your blunt answers are refreshing,” he admits, almost gratefully. “No one other than Lilia speaks to me with such genuine honesty. Yet even then, he tends to shroud his words in some layer of vagueness.”

“My aunts were like that when I first moved in with them. Something about ‘learning things on your own,” you recollect. “But I was really quiet and withdrawn when I first moved in with them. They had to lead me by the hand and pummel me with lots of encouragement just to get me to do basic things.”

“You and the concept of quietness don’t mix well together,” Malleus laughs. “In fact, much of how you describe yourself as a child doesn’t seem to match up to how you behave now.”

His comment, while true and most likely just a casual observation, is treading into somewhat dangerous territory for you. “You really pay attention to everything I say, don’t you?” you comment in an attempt to divert the conversation elsewhere.

“I do,” he admits with an unashamed expression “But seeing as you now know of all of my embarrassing mishaps as a child, I think it’s only fair that I get to hear a story or two about yours.”

He leans closer to you, something you normally do to him whenever he gets all quiet and reluctant to say what’s on his mind. You don’t exactly mind telling Malleus about your early childhood, but it’s not as grandiose or as pleasant as he may think it is. What’s a friendship without revealing a few stories about your crappy childhood to each other? What happened to you is unfortunate, and you’re not ashamed to talk about it, not anymore at least. Considering the state of your friendship with him and the ongoing issue about whether you’re going to pursue something more with him or not, you’re not too sure if sharing stories of your past should be preserved for later or if doing so now is alright.

“Can I ask you something first?” you hesitantly ask.

“Anything.”

You turn your body towards him more, easily noticing the way he sits up a little more straight. The faint chirps of crickets and windswept leaves fill the silent void you’ve set in place. He remains quiet, tightening his grip around your hand, still interlocked with his, brushing the back of it with the thumb of his other. The gesture is small, but it’s obviously his way of letting you know that he’s patiently waiting and encouraging you to take all the time you need to sort your thoughts out. He’s looking at you with that concerned expression of his. The one he makes when he feels as though he’s made some sort of mistake or said something that was ill-spoken against you.

He tends to critical of himself, only because there is a lot of expectation set upon his shoulders for someone of his station. It is during moments like this that you understand what Lilia meant when he says Malleus still has much to learn and experience before he can truly take on the mantle of a king. He may be many decades older than you, but his maturity is probably not too far from your own; well put together than most, but still in need of opportunities to grow and learn some more.

That’s the purpose of these walks, to learn and grow from each other. All it takes is a question. But your question, the one that has been swirling in your mind for days, isn’t as innocent as wondering if his horns have nerve endings or not.

Your teeth are on the verge of biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood when finally, you will yourself to ask the burning question on your mind.

“What do you plan to get out of a relationship with me?”

He’s visibly taken aback by your question. If you squint really hard, your question is almost an affirmation that his feelings towards you are mutual, but it is only a minuscule part of a much greater whole. There can not, will not, be any do-overs for either of you. Before you pass a point where there is no return, you need to make sure neither of you is setting yourself up for disaster later down the line. You love Malleus, but you will not tell him what your genuine feelings are just to make him feel better. If word gets out about your relationship and it’s ill-received by his family or, heaven forbid, his own people, you’d never forgive yourself. Becoming King of the Valley of Thorns is his only desire in life. You couldn’t possibly understand why he would want to put himself into such a demanding position. You still don’t understand, but he remains firm that becoming king is what he truly desires in the entire world.

You’d rather die with these unpursued feelings of yours than to allow yourself to be the reason he loses his unwavering purpose in life.

“A relationship, with you,” he tests the words, the very concept, out loud. As if he’s trying to gauge the reaction of the world itself. “It certainly wouldn’t be a dull one.”

That look he gives you, the one that is so painstakingly painted in so much love and affection that can give you several tooth-rotting cavities, directed to none other than you, makes your heart do all sorts of acrobatic twirls and lunges. Your hands seek out the nearest object to fidget with, a piece of hair that fell out of place from your hairstyle. There’s a moment of panic that overcomes him and he goes to pull his hand out of your firm grip, but you tighten it just before his hand can slip away. You like holding his hand, you realize.

“Something’s troubling you,” he remarks. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

“This isn’t the best time to bring it up,” you argue. It really isn’t. Not when there’s alcohol in your body that makes you incredibly pessimistic and impulsive. And it’s his birthday. You really don’t want to make this day suddenly about you. You’re slowly regretting having that second bottle.

“Perhaps not, but it’s going to be brought up eventually, I imagine.” He gently cups the side of your face and forces you to look up at him, right into those green eyes that have always mesmerized you. “Speak to me,” he insists once more.

“I…” you start, but the words die in your mouth before you can speak them. There’s an instance where you nearly pull away from him and are ready to just book it back to your dorm and forget this ever happened, but he keeps you in place almost desperately. He wants you to speak your mind. He wants to know what’s eating up inside you. He wants you, all of you.

But like his desire to become king, you can’t understand why it’s you sitting across from him.

The edges of your vision wobble, and you know that if you’re pushed over the edge enough, you’re going to start sobbing. You hate crying, especially when you feel you don’t deserve to. Who are you to get all emotional when you’re the one who’s overcomplicating things? You’re the one who kick-started this conversation, so why are you the one getting all emotional? Shouldn’t Malleus be the one on the verge of breaking down? He’s the one with the most to lose. The most suffering you’ll likely be subjected to is a bunch of scrutinization and disapproval.

“You know this isn’t going to be easy, right?”

He reaches up with a folded handkerchief in hand, dabbing the corners of your tear-stricken eyes. “I know.”

“I can take a judgemental comment or two. I just don’t want you to be on that receiving end of it because of me.”

“People will always find something to pin blame on or direct their judgment towards, even if the detail is as insignificant as my decision to be with a human.” he calmly explains. It almost pisses you off that he’s remaining calm through all this while you’re going through many ranges of emotions. Malleus is a prince, and it's fragile moments like these that he’s been carefully taught how to navigate and work through. Now you’re just mad at yourself for forgetting something so obvious and vital. Damn that second bottle of wine!

“I’m the worst human you could have picked,” you proclaimed with utmost certainty. “I’m not even from the same world as you. What the hell can I possibly offer you?”

“Well,” He leans even closer to you, closer than he’s ever purposely been and you’re almost compelled to move away from him due to your nervousness. There was a brief moment where you thought that he might kiss you, that’s how little space there is between you and him. While a kiss from him sounds both amazing and absolutely terrifying, you let out an audible sigh of relief when he stops at pressing his forehead against yours. “What are you willing to give me?”

Oh, he’s slick and he knows it. The answer is so obvious now. You’ve made it obvious well before your first glass of champagne. You’re practically wearing your heart on your sleeves, but it’s not enough for him. He wants you to say it out loud so that what he assumes is mutual is in fact irrefutable. He won’t settle for anything less, you’re sure of it.

“All I can give you is my love,” you offer, in a hushed, almost embarrassed manner. “If you’ll have it. If it’s what you want.”

“It is,” he answers immediately, without a shred of doubt or hesitancy. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

If this is truly all he wants from you, then he can have it. He can have every bit of it.

“Are you sure you can make it back to Ramshackle without issue?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him for likely the 20th time. “I’m not that buzzed, and you look just as tired as I am.”

You’re right. Malleus is well beyond himself now. His social batteries are thoroughly drained. He needs a nice, long rest to fully process this long evening.

As he thinks about his conversation with you under the gazebo, he reaches out and tenderly caresses the side of your face. Your hands immediately reach up to tug and twist one of your shirt buttons. He once thought your habit to fidget with the nearest object meant you were uncomfortable. A dainty smile etches into his face now that he knows that this habit of yours was a sign that you were flustered by his actions.

He thinks it’s an adorable habit and very befitting of your person.

“What?” you look up at him with a nervous gaze. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Your face is all clean.”

Despite his statement, you wipe at your puffy eyes to ensure there are no visible tears left. Would you think him strange if he told you he finds you endearing like this, your eyes somewhat droopy and your voice hushed despite the lack of need to control your volume? You probably would, but your presumed disdain wouldn’t stop him even if you told him off. He can’t help it. He’s drunk as well, though not because of any wine.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you say into his open palm.

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” you smile against his skin. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Do you now?” He looks at you, intrigued by the sudden presentation of a surprise for him. “Is it safe to assume this surprise is my present?”

“Yup, it’s your birthday present,” you admit. “I found something on the island that you’ll absolutely love. The walk is long, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, beaming as he thinks about where exactly you’re going to take him. You have a knack for finding interesting spots on the island. Whatever this hidden wonder is, you seem quite confident that it’ll trump all the others.

“Meet me early in the morning, and dress warmly. It’s going to snow a bit.” you disclose before regrettably pulling away from him. “Goodnight, and happy birthday!” you call out to him one last time.

“Thank you! Please be careful on your way back!” he pleads, but you’ve already passed through the mirror back to the college’s main campus. Hopefully, you heard him. If not, he can always send you a letter through his charmed envelope or message you over the phone.

When he returns to his room to dress down and ready himself for bed, he finds that his desk is occupied by a hefty pile of presents that he had yet to open. While they vary in size, most are wrapped in identical gift wrapping and bows. Presents on the larger scale are fully exposed and have a card set over top of it or tucked in between the gift wherever possible.

He opens some gifts before calling it a night, specifically the smaller-sized ones. Most of them are centered on his skill for stringed instruments; new violin strings, fresh rosin for his bow, and even some sheet music for songs he’s never played before. If it weren’t so late, he’d practice a few stanzas. It’s probably best if he saves his awkward first time playing for another day.

Perhaps he can play for you someday? However, the mere thought of more physical activity causes a surge of tiredness throughout his body and he lets out a deep, bellowing yawn. Playing as host for his own party required much more listening than conversing than he had initially expected. He was also juggling his attention from his guests to you, who was always across the room from where he found himself. There’s a great divide in opinions regarding your friendship with him that, unfortunately, skews more negatively rather than positively. He cannot speak for all faes, but he did not want you to develop any poor opinions or experiences with his people, especially his dorm mates. Seeing the small group of first years keeping you company and even show a bit of reverence towards you was assuring.

You deserve as much praise and admiration as he receives, for you are someone who has well earned his respect and his love.

You weren’t exaggerating when you told him to dress warmly. Malleus doesn’t hate the cold, but he can’t say he likes the way it bites and numbs his minimally exposed skin. Thankfully, the coat you made for him helps stave off the cold rather well. Now if only his gloves could do the same for his needle-pricking fingers.

“Your master sure has the gall to leave me waiting outside in this weather.” He looks down at Gunter, the pack leader of your small bunch of wolves. He doesn’t seem bothered by the snow at all, what with his thick winter coat protecting him from the cold air and the scarf he wears around his neck. Not only did you think to make and put on a scarf for the rugged canine, you even secured it by tying the ends into a neat bow. “I wonder where exactly they’re taking me. Perhaps you have a clue?”

Gunter turns away from Malleus, as if to tell him he’s sworn to total secrecy on your behalf. Malleus can’t help but reach down and pat him on the top of his head. Loyal without a fault. He can see why you keep the wild dog around.

“Are you trying to interrogate my wolf?” He jumps a bit at your unannounced and undetected arrival. He didn’t even hear the crunching of snow and rocks from your heavy boots as you snuck up behind him. If he were wild game, he’d likely have a bullet lodged in his heart by now. “Whatever you promise him, it won’t work. He’s pretty tight-lipped.”

“I can see that,” he quips back. “Are the others staying behind?”

“They can’t stand the cold. Not like this one can,” you explain to him while proudly scratching behind the wolf’s fluffy ears. “The woods are still dangerous, even during the winter. He’ll scout ahead and let us know if we need to change directions and chase off any predators. I also promised I’d share some of our food if he came along, so there’s that.”

“You prepared food for us?”

“Of course I did!” you jostle your pack basket to reiterate your statement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t feed you?”

“You never fail to stuff me with food, so no, I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” he laughs. “Besides, without me, you’d end up with more leftovers than you’d know what to do with.”

“I lived with 11 people back home,” you grunt as you push open the metal gates that enclose the front of the Ramshackle dorm. “So what if I make too much food? You’re really pushing it for someone who gobbles it up all the same.”

“I rather enjoy the way you flavor your meals,” he remarks. “And you know that I’m very particular about my food.”

“Is that why you want me around?” you inquire with a cheeky grin. “So I can satisfy that silver-spooned appetite of yours?”

“What about you?” he questions back with just as much playfulness. “Without me, you’d have no gardening partner.”

“Damn,” you kick a twig and it tumbles down a small incline and into the half-frozen stream at the bottom. “and I thought I was being stealthy about it too.”

Malleus erupts into a loud fit of laughter, with you joining him as he sputters out how strange your shared senses of humor are. This right here. This is why he loves you. You just make him so damn happy! Your companionship and the bond you and him have built with each other is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of since he was a young boy. There was a point in his life where he had nearly resigned himself to a life of loneliness. Now, look at him, out on a stroll with one of his closest friends. Although now you are not only his friend, you are now his partner as well.

His partner. His.

He involuntarily reaches over and squeezes your hand in his small bout of prideful possession. His enamored smile must have caught your attention as you reach out and poke the side of his face with your free hand.

“And just what are you thinking about, your highness ?"

He has to hold back the snort that he nearly lets out. How kind of you to layout the perfect opportunity to tease you. “Why, I’m thinking about you, of course,” he says, throwing a wink in for added measure.

You let out a huff of air that turns misty as your warm breath mixes and condenses in the cool air. “You should think of something else,” you retort, pulling the hood of your dark cloak closer to your face to cover the side that Malleus can see without strain.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Malleus continues to tease you.

“And you sure are talkative this morning,” you harshly say, but he knows it’s only because he’s “pushing your buttons" as you would say. You do it plenty of times towards him and your friends. This is nothing but well-deserved revenge for all those times you push him and get him all flustered. He’ll need to watch his back in the future. You won’t let him get away with this, not without avenging yourself first.

Oh, if only humans and Faes could get along as well as you two have. Malleus was born right at the end of the last war between his people and many defunct human nobility houses. Relations with the remaining human nobility are better with passaging time, but there is much room for improvement before there can ever truly be a declared peace between both species. A relationship between a human and fae is hardly anything new, the interaction between the two races as old as time itself. As overly optimistic and opportunistic as it surely sounds, he hopes that his relationship with you, no matter how it works out in the end, can be a proper example to his people and onlookers of any other kind than the harmony they once had with humans is still obtainable.

“What you said the other day,” he suddenly mentions. “I feel it would be in poor taste if I didn’t fully address the concerns you clearly have about us regarding my status as a member of the nobility.”

At the mention of your conversation a couple of days ago, your hand grips around tight around him for a moment. “I don’t like facing too many uncertainties,” you admit. “It probably sounds weird, but I do better in situations I have some control over. Being with you. Well, for lack of better words, it scares the living daylight out of me the more I think about it. I don’t even think you know what’s in store for both of us the further we get into this.”

“I have some idea, but to say that I fully understand what’s at stake would be untruthful,” he admits as well. When the court eventually finds out about who he has taken as his partner, he will receive some amount of scrutiny and his decision will be heavily questioned. "However, that would happened no matter who I chose to be with, so long as the person was not someone the court saw as diplomatically advantageous."

“Have you even told anyone about us yet?”

“No. Not even Lilia knows, but I'm sure he has an inkling by now,” he expresses. “As childish as this may sound, but I’d like to keep our relationship a secret as long as possible.”

“And when people start to connect the dots, what then?”

“The only way they’ll confirm their suspicions is to confront either one of us,” he answers matter-of-factly. “But whatever difficulties may be lined up for me in the future. So long as you’re by my side to support me, I'll endure whatever it is that is put forth in front of me."

“You’re right, you sound really childish,” you sigh. “But you also sound so damn sure yourself,” you grumble under your breath, but his pointed ears pick up on your comment despite your hushed volume. “I can’t say I feel the same way just yet. But I hope that, whatever comes up, we can do what we always do and just… talk it out.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles. “After all, isn’t that the purpose for these walks of ours? So we may work through these difficult conversations with each other?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, a clear lopsided smile on your lips despite you not facing directly towards him. “I guess they are.”

Just as Malleus is about to say something else, you suddenly stop when a distant howl sounds. “We’re close,” you tell him.

“Now, where exactly are you taking me?” he finally asks you.

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “I can’t tell you just yet.”

“Not even after I asked so politely?”

“Nope!” you beam.

Still curious about this supposed wonder you’re escorting to, he continues to pester you with questions, trying to pull some sort of hint out of you. You’re not usually as tight-lipped as you are now. Your persistent secrecy only excites him the further you two travel.

Apparently, what you constitute as nearby is much further than what he would consider close. While still within the woods, he can faintly hear ocean waves crashing and a few seabirds cawing about. You’re taking him towards the southern part of the isle, clear by his now unbutton coat because of the warmer temperatures and the tuffs of green grass poking out through the half-melted snow the further you take him. The place finally appears before him, with tall brick walls and a metal gate, both of which are covered in thick, frosted ivy leaves. He can make out of a few shapes past the gate, but not enough to confidently guess what they are exactly.

“Will you tell me now?” Malleus asks once more while you busy yourself by giving Gunter some well-deserved ear scratches.

“What do you think?” you look down and ask Gunter. He makes a deep grunting sound in response to your question. “I guess you’re right,” you nod in understanding before looking up towards Malleus and saying, “The locals call it a gargoyle graveyard.”

“Gargoyles?” he says with clear excitement, like a young boy being told that a pile of candies and toys awaits him in the other room. "You took me out to see gargoyles?"

“Yes, but also no,” you say. “They would have been if they weren’t sculpted incorrectly.”

“So it’s a place where inoperable gargoyles are put?” he asks, still intruiged.

“The family who owns this piece of land mentioned that they also put gargoyles in here that were made purely for art’s sake,” you added. “But can it really be called a gargoyle if they weren’t made to act as a gutter in the first place?”

Malleus’s heart always skips and beats faster whenever he’s around you. That last comment you made nearly stopped his heart altogether. He once had a conversation with Silver regarding the stark difference between gargoyles and statues. The boy couldn’t fully grasp the difference, but it seems you can right out of the blue. By the Great Seven, is your ability to tell the difference between a purposeful gargoyle and a mere decorative grotesque really what’s making him go red in the face?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You easily notice this as well, as you comment how his complexion is almost the shade of a ripe tomato, although you’ve been busying yourself with undoing the many locks and chains secured around the front gate and didn’t even look over to him since. “I can see the tips of your ears getting all pink in my peripheral,” you explain with a hint of laughter arising in your voice. You’re clearly amused by all this. “Who knew my basic understanding of gargoyles is enough to set a fire in your loins!”

“Must you tease me at every opportunity?” he groans. "And so crudely too."

“What? Are you having second thoughts about me?” you jokingly ask.

“Somewhat,” he answers back, though it’s only a half-serious answer.

You toss aside the last chainlink and rusted lock keeping the front gate secured before saying, “I won’t be mad if you bail out now. It’ll save Sebek the future anguish when he finds out.”

“Sebek is already at odds with our friendship as it is,” Malleus clarifies. “Besides, I think the boy is rather endearing when he’s upset.”

“Endearing,” you mockingly repeat. “More like a pain in my ass.”

“Give him some time. He’ll grow on you,” Malleus encourages.

“For your sake, he better,” you glare at him for a moment. “Alright, that’s enough relationship talk for the day. These gargoyles won’t ogle themselves!”

No, they won’t, and it’s music to his ears that you want to appreciate them together.

Together, with him.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 46

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

Mornings, contrary to popular belief, could actually be quite enjoyable, especially if experienced around noon. 

There were few things better than the comforts and warmth of one's bed, and a loved one's body pressed close, resting peacefully within reach. Even the sunlight didn't bother Loki much. He'd grown used to the dim rays of the winter sun doing their best against the low-hanging clouds. It would snow again, as it did the past couple of days.

The apartment had windows overlooking a wild patch of a garden tucked in between the buildings, forgotten or ignored by the residents. It wasn't much, but a few gnarled trees managed to take roots and grow unattended, to the delight of all kinds of birds from the neighborhood. Once the snow melted, it would be easier to judge if there was any potential to work on that place, but for now, both of you just watched over it, occasionally feeding whatever animals fancied some corn on that day.

The few snowmen Peter had worked on showed both his progress and the unquestionable lack of skills. Loki wasn't sure if it was possible for a snowman to lean to the side any further without falling, but he was certain the boy would ease his doubts next time he paid a visit.

Thankfully, chances of that happening anytime soon were low enough for Loki to feel safe, at least until classes end. A small mercy, but one that he'd take gladly. 

Loki turned to the side and buried his face in your neck. The soft fabric of the covers slipped off your sleeping form, daring him with a display of skin marked by his ministrations from last night. Or maybe the night before that. It was hard to discern between the days lately. They blurred together because of the amount of work to focus on. The apartment was in a good condition overall, but in dire need of redesigning. The tiresome work was made easier once Loki realized how easily his magic could bend the walls and the space contained within them.

Still, he deserved to rest, and he intended to continue doing so when he heard the last thing he wanted. 

Knocking. 

It couldn't be Peter, who'd either walk in or stick himself to the window after half a minute of not answering. Loki looked over his shoulder. The window behind him was still boy-free. 

That meant whoever decided to make the gravest mistake of their lives could be a neighbor. Neighbors were supposed to be friendly, or at least neutral toward new residents, as you'd explained a few days ago. It wouldn't be anything strange if one of them decided to pay a little visit to say hi. None did so far, but if any dared, Loki would make sure it was their last. 

Unfortunately, there was another possibility that came solely from the fact of an opening business, advertising it on the aforementioned door and allowing the, also aforementioned, boy to spread the business cards all over the city. 

It could be a client. 

It wouldn't be such a bad thing overall, but it was at the very bottom of the things Loki wanted to deal with instead of sleeping. If it was up to him, he'd just cancel the sound with a quick spell and ignore it further, but he couldn't forget your joy when your first client visited a few days ago. The sense of purpose it gave you and the way it made you smile were still vivid in Loki's memory. Even if the first client was a first-grader missing a tooth.

Still, you made him a promise and even put him into the schedule, promising to resolve his problem...today, actually.

Loki sighed and braced himself mentally for the walk downstairs. If the kid showed up to check how it went, he'd be in for a surprise. Loki pushed himself off the mattress, pulling the covers over your shoulder to keep you warm. 

He didn't bother himself with looking for a coherent set of clothing among the things scattered on the floor and furniture. Lately, he'd spent most of his free time in a wonderfully green robe you gave him as a gift anyway, and he didn't feel like breaking his new routine. Walking down the stairs, Loki did his best to keep his eyes open enough to see the steps. A child or not, someone would be getting a lecture about the importance of beauty sleep…

Loki opened the door, reminding himself that however strange it might sound, murder was not always the answer to every problem.

Loki frowned. He closed the door. He opened it again.

"Haven't I murdered you already?" he asked.

Agent Coulson put on a smile he must've practiced in front of a mirror a hundred times. "It would seem so."

The old lady living next door looked them over and decided she didn't need to leave her apartment as much as she had thought. The locks clicked one by one when she turned on her heels and closed them firmly.

Loki debated following in her steps when Coulson said something that made even Loki freeze.

"I paid you a visit because the Avengers and SHIELD need your help."

Loki blinked before erupting into laughter - waves and waves of it that he just couldn't stop. His body shook with the bizarre words of a long dead human he had almost forgotten about already. For a moment, he considered what the neighbors must be thinking if they'd been eavesdropping, but it was of secondary importance. What really mattered was that his mood changed so quickly Loki hadn't even noticed.

"I'm glad you're taking my visit well," Coulson smiled tightly, waiting patiently for Loki to calm down.

"Oh, don't worry. Killing you the second time will do wonders to my mood for the whole week," a dagger slipped into Loki's hand.

"Who are we killing today?"

Both men froze hearing you. You walked down the stairs with a blanket pulled tightly over your shoulders. Good manners dedicated you cover your yawning mouth, but your hands bunched in the thick fabric of the blanket reminded you of what was truly important in one's life, especially before noon. Or coffee.

"I thought we agreed on a no killing rule in the mornings? It complicates the whole day."

"To be fair, I've killed this man before."

"And now he's come for a refund?" You turned to Coulson. "I'm sorry, agent. We aren't open yet. Can you come back in the afternoon?"

"Don't worry about it," the agent said. "I've come for a completely different matter. As I've already begun explaining to your…"

"Love of my life," you helped him.

"...I came here asking for your help. Both of you. I would be delighted if we could talk about this like civilized people."

"What a wonderful idea, my dear corpse. Come in."

"Could you please put down your gun first?"

"I don't have a-"

"Please. I just want to talk."

Coulson's polite smile was as unnerving as you remembered it from the few rather brief encounters you'd had in the past.

"Fine," you growled, pushing the blanket to the side and dropping a gun onto the coffee table.

Loki had his eyes on the agent when he walked further into the room. Loki and you were still not sure whether it should be an office or just a living room, so for now it stayed somewhere in between. Coulson didn't mention the state of disarray, but he didn't sit on the couch.

"So what's all the fuss about?" you asked.

"An object was stolen from a SHIELD safe house two nights ago. Despite our greatest efforts, we have been unable to find it. We are well aware of the set of skills the two of you possess," Coulson gave Loki a sharp look, "and are keen on paying you generously for your help."

"No," Loki shrugged. "We listened, now you can go bother someone else."

The agent sighed. He didn't seem particularly surprised, though. 

"How generously?" you asked carefully. You shushed Loki before he started complaining. "You must realize we're living quite comfortably already and there's not much that we need."

"Name your price then." Coulson's smile didn't waver, and it was clear he was open to negotiations. The case must be dire, then. And if whatever had been stolen came from the depths of SHIELD's super secret base, it must not only be worth a fortune, but also highly dangerous and possibly not quite from this world. 

Loki's elbow kept on jabbing your ribs in desperate hope of getting your attention, but you were too deep in your schemes already.

"We don’t have much interest in money," you leaned back on the couch, fixing the blanket absentmindedly, "but since both of us already have ties with your organization, why not go into that direction? We'd love to have the kind of… support you can offer."

The smile on your face was sweet enough to make Loki's teeth rot, but he kept quiet. He had no idea what was on your mind, but he was keen on finding out. He looked at the agent.

"I'm afraid SHIELD is not the right kind of agency to clean up after you mess something up," Coulson said.

"I'm pretty sure you guys are perfect when it comes to disappearing people and wiping away their messes as if they never were. Last time I saw you work, you were quite efficient."

There was definitely a history between the two of you. Loki kept his smile to himself as he watched the agent's shoulders shift. Whatever the story was, it clearly involved a part the agent was not the happiest about.

"Could you reconsider?" he asked at last.

"We named our price."

"This artifact is of the utmost importance. Surely you understand what the stakes are?"

"This is a private business, darling," you gestured around. "If you wanted the heroes, especially those working pro bono, I'm afraid you climbed the wrong tower. But since you came to us, and I'm sure that’s not because you miss our lovely faces, you must've already considered that option, didn't you?"

Coulson sighed. "You've got yourself a deal."

The grin on your face was nothing short of wolfish. "How lovely. Now, what did you lose?"

The box Coulson took out of the pocket of his suit was neither big nor pretty. If anything, the thin wood looked worn, and the edges were rounded from time and touch. Still, it was enough to make Loki tense next to you, and not touch it when the agent set it on the table.

"It used to hold a pin, and the pin used to have a gem of unknown origin. Now there's neither, and we want them back."

You exchanged looks with Loki.

"We'll contact you when we find anything out," you promised.

You wondered how desperate Coulson must've been if he didn't even argue before leaving the not-office. In the silence that fell upon the room, your attention turned to the box. No ornaments and not even a lock. If such an important pin had been put inside of it, why was the box not secured more?

"What do you think?" you laid back into Loki's side.

"Are we actually doing this? I'm not the right person to talk about trust issues, but I'm pretty sure I've already killed that guy."

"Did you sense anything off about him?"

"Not really. But when it comes to this little box…" Loki's hand hovered above it, but he didn't touch the wood. "I probably shouldn't be surprised to find mice residue, but I'm quite puzzled about that disgusting tang of necromancy."

"Do you think the pin had been used for some dark rituals?" you wiggled your eyebrows. 

"I'm afraid we'll only find that out if we can figure out where the pin went."

"What are we waiting for then?”

A few hours passed without any further interference, but as all good things, that time had to pass at last. The rather casual afternoon at your apartment had been interrupted by a certain boy who had secured himself a spare set of keys beforehand, and now used them to enter.

Peter froze midstep.

"Close the door. It takes way too long to reignite all these candles," you said from the living room turned office turned ritual site.

The thick black candles were laid out around a circle drawn with chalk, and strange symbols painted with what Peter could only hope was actually paint. Very, very red paint. The same type of paint covering Loki's bare skin in twisting, overflowing sigils. With his eyes closed, and head upturned, he chanted quietly in a language of wind and shadows.

"Cookie?" you offered from the couch, where you laid sprawled. 

The bag was almost empty, but the cookies turned out to be great anyway. Peter sat at the very edge of the couch, observing the god and his ritual.

"Is that...normal?"

"Yeah, chill. We got a job from a dead man walking who told us to find a stolen alien artifact, so we're doing our very best," you yawned. "Meaning, he is working and I'm supporting him wholeheartedly."

"I'd have better support from the chicken I told you I needed," Loki murmured between breaths.

"Where the fuck was I supposed to find you a living chicken in the middle of New York?"

Peter took another cookie. "Does that mean you won't be able to find that thing?"

You waved your hand dismissively as Loki focused back on chanting. "It'll be fine, he's already done that once with perfect results and no chickens violated."

"What were you looking for?"

"The remote."

Peter nodded. Chewing on the last cookie, he fished his homework out of his backpack and laid it out on the table, next to a gun. He had a spider-patrol planned for the evening, but had to finish schoolwork first. With Ned sure to ramble about his newest set tomorrow, Peter had no chance of finishing it before the classes started in the morning.

[illfoandillfie]

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this! 

Taglist: @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

 “Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.�� “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

 You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

 Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

 It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

 You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

 “Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

 He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance.  Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

 Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

 At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

 You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

 “How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

 He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

 On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

 Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly.   “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

 The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he��d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

 You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

 You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

 You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

[shoichee]

Lucky Bucket

Midorima x Reader

Word Count: 2686

Submission for @knb-kreations‘s All Hallows’ Eve event!

Prompt: black cat

»»—————　☼　—————««

Midorima hated Halloween.

Why would anyone celebrate the day that is especially infamous for terrible misfortune and ominous superstitions?

Scratch that—why in god’s name does October have to exist?

He swore that every step he took provoked different unsettling breezes that whispered various taunts of a series of unfortunate events for Cancers like him.

He even tried to convince Captain Miyaji to bail out of practice for the month out of fear for his “safety and wellbeing,” promising to practice in the sanctuary of his own backyard to compensate.

“What the fuck are you on about?” the said Captain glowered, his patience visibly thinning on his face. “If this is about your horoscopes again, I’m not hearing about that shit again. Winter Cup is around the corner, and you still think you’ll get special treatment just because you’re one of the Generation of Miracles?”

“Sh-shin-chan, I think this is the time for you to run—”

“Takao. This is none of your—”

“5 extra laps around the campus.”

---------

“You 1st-years are really pushing your luck, huh,” Kimura deadpanned, slightly huffing to catch his breath after doing the extra laps.

“Yeah, thanks a bunch, Shin-chan.”

“I knew it—the horoscopes predicted that the majority of the signs would experience subpar luck today, nanodayo.”

“IT WASN’T THE PREDICTIONS THAT LED US HERE, IT WAS YOU!”

“Absolute nonsense. Why would I intentionally wish ill luck onto my teammates?”

“...”

“...”

“Can I throw my family’s pineapples at him?”

“... Maybe it’ll be better for all of our sakes if you’re out of practices just for this month.”

“That’s what I tried to tell the Captain, Otsubo-san,” Midorima sighed, disregarding the stupefying stares his teammates were giving him. “But he would not hear me out.”

“You’re such an impossible person to deal with. Takao, how are you even friends with him?—”

“I am not friends with Takao.”

“Shin-chan is just like an onion with many layers, y’see?” Takao lightly chuckles, evident that he was still short of breath from the sprinting. “I mean if anything, I wonder what (y/n)-chan sees in him.”

“Th-that is none of your business!”

“Awwwww, is Shin-chan being shy?”

“Cease this foolishness at once!”

“Oh hi, (y/n)-chan!”

“Wha—?” At the speed of Aomine’s agility, Midorima whirled around… to see nobody. Right on cue, Takao starts to struggle to hold back an unfiltered guffaw, and his other teammates had their own poor efforts of suppressing their own snickers at his moment of gullibility.

Midorima could feel his veins about to burst at his temples.

“Takao.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It was too good to pass up!—oh? (y/n)—?”

“Are you daft? I’m not going to fall for that again, nanodayo.”

“Fall for who, me?”

At the sound of your voice taking on an irritatingly familiar teasing tone, Midorima reluctantly swerved his head to meet your eyes. He quickly turns his attention away back to Takao in front of him.

“Was this your game all along?” Midorima narrows his eyes.

“What? No! This one was a total accident!—ow!”

“Midomido,” you pouted, prying your boyfriend’s arms away from a dying point-guard. “I want your arms around me too, y’know?”

The entire basketball team is standing there aghast at what you just said in front of the ever-modest Midorima. Sure enough, he was ready to put Takao into a chokehold, and if one didn’t know better, they might think they were extremely close.

“...”

“Miiiiiiido,” you said, tilting your head to look up at his face. He was definitely red. “I want a hug.”

“... We’re going,” was all he said as he (rather harshly) tugged your hand to walk away from the team.

“Oi! Practice isn’t even over yet!”

“Leave poor Shin-chan be. Cut him some slack just this once.”

“Miyaji-san isn’t going to like this when he finds out Midorima isn’t at practice… isn’t he going to kill us all?”

“Easy… just don’t let him find out.”

“Don’t let me find out what.” Miyaji looms over with a threatening smile in a feeble attempt to hide his dark expression. No one needed to turn around to know it was their spartan captain. The immediate chills down their spines told them everything.

“Sh-shit! Run!”

---------

“Shin-chan!~ Shin-chan!~ Shin-chan!~” you called out to Midorima in a sing-song voice to get him to break his silence. You knew that his amount of patience wasn’t generous like his Teiko-manager Momoi’s, nor was he honest about his feelings like his ex-teammate Kuroko, but nonetheless, he had his own unique charm that you found extremely adoring. To tease that is.

Midorima stops walking abruptly and you softly walk into him from the back, amusedly noting that he still has your hand in a tight grip in his own despite his obvious embarrassment.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?”

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” you said, ready to pull out your signature pouts again. “Have you forgotten that I was gonna bring you a bento box to you at practice? Like I usually do?”

Ah, that was right. You always made the time to drop off snacks and water in the middle of practice. He supposed that his fanatical fear of bad luck for the rest of October made him forget. While he’s not the forgetful type, some extreme things just make him feel completely out of sync with his mind. October was one of those occasions.

“... you don’t have to always do this, nanodayo.”

You giggled. That was just his way of saying: “Thank you, but I don’t feel like I deserve all of this.”

“If you really wanna thank me, kiss me on the lips every time we meet up! Even in public!”

“Wha—!” he sputters. “D-Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Half joking. But I want you to rely on me more. I don’t think of this as a burden or obligation. I want to take care of you. Because I want to. Because I love you, Midomido~”

“... Did you have to say the last part?”

“This time I’m not joking, if you didn’t know.”

A silence falls between the two of you before you teased him to break that silence.

“How long are you gonna hold my hand? Not that I’m complaining obviously, but this is way too out of character for you.”

“Sh-shut up,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast onto your linked hands. “I’m thinking, nanodayo.”

And you patiently stand there, relishing the warmth of his hand as you shamelessly drink in the sight of his sweaty form from practice. His hair was a slightly darker viridian from the perspiration, and miniscule droplets slid off his biceps, making him all the more tantalizing.

“... I want to ask you something.” He lets go of your hand and you reluctantly do the same.

“Eh?” You broke out of your admiring trance as you slowly made eye contact with him again. His piercing gaze, you noted, hadn’t changed at all even from the physical exhaustion.

“Could you…” he started, clearly struggling to get the appropriate words out of his tongue. “... bring me extra lucky items every day… just for this… month.” He didn’t even say it in the tone of a question, and his tense shoulders told you everything you needed to know.

Shy Midorima was too adorable.

“Of course!”

“J-just like that?! You’re not going to ask me why?”

“I know you just wanna be extra prepared, Midomido,” you grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” At your words, he visibly relaxes.

“However…” Midorima perks his head up.

“My lucky items won’t be based off of the horoscopes… but they’ll be all still chosen to help you in some way.”

“... You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“Of course not! I just feel that I would be able to help you better if I was able to choose these on my own terms since I’m not so good at astrology stuff! Plus, I celebrated Halloween and know all the October superstitions since I was a wee kid… I’m an expert on this stuff, trust me!”

Midorima hesitates before he sighs. You knew that meant he gave in and was ready to accept this without a further objection.

He is going to try to rely on you after all, so he might as well start by believing your words.

“Mido! Look! Those cats have been around lately! Aren’t they so cute??”

Please don’t let it be what he think it is, please don’t let it be what he think it is—

You dash from Midorima’s side as you ditched him for the felines, making the extra effort to coo at them to coax them towards your direction. You don’t even notice the way Midorima has his back to you, stiff as a plank.

“Ne, I’ve always wanted to pet them but they’re so sneaky and elusi—Mido? What are you doing?” you turn away from the cats to peer over the petrified greenhead. A realization popped into your head. “… No way! You can’t be scared of a bunch of cats.”

Midorima quietly gulped to himself before he slowly cranked his neck to you… before he noticed the pair of black cats analyzing him behind you. Chills visibly wracked his body before he bolted behind the nearest wall.

“(y-y/n)! Get away from them, nanodayo!”

“No, dummy! Look, they’re so affectionate and cuddly!” Midorima shrinks back further in annoyance when he sees them rubbing themselves up against you and monopolizing all of your attention. While he would’ve just tugged you away to feel your touch again… the cats were a genuine problem.

He stiffly brings out his phone before dialing his right-hand man.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“... Takao?”

Please leave a message for Takao Kazunari.

Fuck, how could he forget? He ditched today’s practice in the heat of embarrassment. They were probably at the gym ready to kill him tomorrow. He groaned before facepalming himself. Nothing seems to be going in his favor at all.

Damn it, it was all because of October.

He resignedly sighed as he put away his cell before you hopped to his side again.

“Wahhh, the cats just left,” you whined to him. “I really wanted to pet them more…” Before you reach out to try to hold his hand again, Midorima jumps 3 steps back.

“Stop right there. Not a step closer.”

“Wha? Why?!”

“Bad luck is all over you, and I will not have it be spread to me, nanodayo,” he explained as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “Wait right here. I’ll look for a lucky charm to repel the bad luck for you, (y/n).”

Had his superstitiousness really been that bad?

Half an hour passed before Midorima fully “sanitized” you with some type of water with a spray bottle and gave you a “special plushie” to ward off other misfortunes.

“Did you give me a cute stuffed toy because you felt bad for me?” you cooed at him.

“D-don’t get the wrong idea, nanodayo!” he vehemently denied. “The horoscopes said that this particular item was lucky for your sign today.”

“That’s so cute!” you giggled at him nonetheless, and you were immediately met with denying grumbles and half-shouts.

“Say, are you really scared of those cats?” you curiously turned to him.

“I am not scared,” Midorima said matter-of-factly. “They simply do not bring favorable luck.”

“... Right,” you dryly replied, but you decided to change the subject. “Do you ever see yourself ever prepared against the ‘bad luck’ to the point where you’ll never bat an eye at seeing them again?”

“If I work hard and take every opportunity I can, I don’t see why fate won’t give me a favorable outcome regardless.”

“You didn’t notice my spooky ‘bat’ pun, Mido!” you pouted at him.

“Wh-Wha—Stop that—Oi! Don’t tug on me, nanodayo!”

“I’ll see you off to your own house first, so you don’t have to go through the bad luck atmosphere here any longer, okay?”

Meanwhile in your mind, you were concocting up some ideas on how to boost his luck stat for the month…

---------

“Miiiiiiiiidohh!!” you sprinted to catch up to Midorima the next day, noticing how your boyfriend was eyeing warily at whatever you had in your hand. He wordlessly stops and turns to face you.

“I…” you heaved for air. “... have your… lucky item!” You held out a conspicuous, plastic pumpkin bucket, obviously meant to be used for trick-or-treating. He immediately had his guard up the moment he heard rattling coming from said bucket, but he reluctantly peered into it when you made the point of shoving the tacky orange container to his face.

… It was literally all the stereotypical lucky items he’d see in cartoons.

“Horseshoe… plastic dice toys… talismans?” he frowned. “... why are these papers misshapen 7’s and 8’s?”

“Ah… ehehe…” you sheepishly replied. “I may have fibbed up the cutting part just a bit because I was rushing…”

Midorima squints harder to try to discern the rest of the chaotic collection.

A random rabbit’s foot? He would assume it was faux… dirty pennies… dreamcatchers… acorns? Is that a smashed 4-leafed clover??

“... You said you had a lucky item. Singular noun,” he narrowed his eyes. “I was not aware that you garnered such a collection of multiple things in such a short time, nanodayo… unless you had these for a while now.”

“Yeah! Good catch, Midomido!” you grinned. “But it is a lucky item. It’s the bucket!”

“... I’m leaving.”

“No! Midomido!—Hear me out, I swear!” You tugged on his sleeve in a panic, and he heaved a sigh in response but nonetheless stayed in his spot.

“Okay so, any item that you put into this bucket… becomes lucky!” you explained with utmost seriousness. “Since these items are already known to be lucky, if you let it sit in the bucket, they become even luckier!”

Where the hell did you get this logic from?

“It also serves as your lucky item storage, so you can easily rummage out your lucky item for the day with total ease! Not to mention if you somehow run out of lucky items, you can just put any item into the bucket and it’ll turn lucky! You should totally…”

You’re rambling at this point, and while Midorima still cannot comprehend your flimsy logic, his eyes trained onto your bubbly face and your shining eyes, noting your most adorable smile you’d have when you were passionate about something.

… Maybe if you cared that much about his odd habits and went through such a huge extent for his sake, maybe the bucket isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it’s lucky because you worked on this idea with love and care?

“Mido! Are you even listening?” you huffed. “Geez, I go through all of this for you and you won’t even listen! Hmpf!”

Midorima slipped out a small rare smile, and almost immediately, your angry face dissipated and was replaced by a faint blush.

“W-w-well, anyways!” you said. “Thank Takao too! He helped me put this bucket together last minute without letting out a single complaint!”

“Takao?”

“Oh! And one final, personal gift from me!” you said, ignoring his looks of confusion. You pulled something from your bag…

And it was a black-cat ear headband.

“Are you mocking me?”

“I would never, dummy!” you frowned. “I heard you say it many times during practice about how you have to know your enemies before you can defeat them!...

… What better way is there to know an enemy than to become them?”

Midorima’s smile was overtaken by the harshest frown you’ve seen in a while.

“This is Takao’s idea isn’t it?—where is he?”

“Nooooo! Midomido, come back! Let me put them on at least! Pretty please! Come on, put them on! I wanna hear you meow!—No, wait! Don’t leave me behind! I have so much fun plans for us on the actual day of Halloween! Don’t ruin the spirit, dummy!”

Needless to say, the real danger of his sanity (and his poor heart) was you.

Screw October—he has to learn how to be careful around your own devious tricks 24/7.

[five-rivers]

Tales from the Edge: Mail Run

First Edge Institute short story!  I hope you like it.  :D

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“Where are you going?” Deer asked, looking up from her soup to glare at Johannsson with suspicion.  

“Mail just came in,” said Johannsson, gesturing at the mail light.  The Institute’s driveway was long, and the mailbox was at the very end of it, so, to prevent extraneous trips, they had a sensor in it that sent a signal when the mailbox was full.  It was a recent addition.  “I’m going to go get it.”

“No, you’re not,” said Deer.  

“What?  Why?”

“Johannsson, when was the mail light put in?  I can tell you right now that it wasn’t forty years ago.”

“I’m not going to touch the sensor!” protested Johannsson.  

“Don’t want to risk it.  Besides, this is why we have interns.”

Zoe, on the other side of the break room, looked up with an expression of betrayal on her face.  “What?”

“Mail,” said Deer.  “Go get it.”

“I work for Research.”

“You’re an intern.  You work for everyone.  Besides, half of our mail is for research in the first place.”

Zoe scowled and spitefully shoved the rest of her sandwich into her mouth.  “Fine,” she said, spraying crumbs.  “I will. But if I get kidnapped on the way there, it’s your fault.”

“You’re just walking down the driveway,” said Deer. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Your fault,” repeated Zoe, stabbing a finger at Deer as she walked through the door.  

A few seconds later, she was back.  She strode across the room to steal a loaf of bread and left again.  

“What was that about?” asked Deer.

“I think bread is supposed to help against fairies,” said Johannsson.  

“Really?  Why don’t we use that?”

“Some fairies,” amended Johannsson.

“That makes sense,” said Deer.  

.

It was a beautiful day.  Really.  

Unfortunately, kidnappings tended to happen on beautiful days. Zoe squared her shoulders before stepping from the nice, air-conditioned lobby into the scorching outdoor heat.  She sighed and trudged out into the parking lot.

Her palms sweated where they touched the plastic bread bag, and she kept switching it back and forth between her hands in an attempt to make it less uncomfortable to hold.  There was a breeze, but it was only barely strong enough to make the wheat planted on either side of the driveway rustle and whisper.  

Stupid grass.  Stupid internship.

She reached the mailbox and groaned as she saw the package shoved in it.  Packages were supposed to be driven all the way up to the front door. Especially packages that didn’t fit completely in the mailbox.  What if it had started raining?

The sun beat down on her, indicating exactly how likely that was.  

Okay, so this was more about the inconvenience to her, personally, than anything else.  If Johannsson had come back complaining about having to carry one measly package, she’d have teased him.  A lot.

With some effort, she yanked the box free and frowned at the places the cardboard had been pinched and warped by being squeezed into the mailbox.  Hopefully, there wasn’t anything fragile inside.  

The box was heavier than expected.  

She shifted the mail, bread, and box around in her hands, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the items, before giving up.  The driveway wasn’t that long.  

About halfway back, she adjusted the box in her hands.  If she didn’t know better, she’d say that it was getting heavier.  Maybe she should start weight training again.  But it took so long.  Ugh.  

Speaking of long…  She looked over her shoulder, back at the mailbox.  The unpleasant heat really was drawing this out, wasn’t it?

Yeah.  No. This had gone on for too long.  She broke into an awkward jog, her eyes staying steady on the front of the building.  

It wasn’t getting closer.  She stopped and pulled out her phone.  No service.  Not even wifi.  Typical. She turned around and walked back to the mailbox.  

At least, she tried to go back to the mailbox. It wasn’t getting any closer, either. So much for messing with the mailbox sensor to send an SOS.  

The box was heavy.  

Okay.  She wanted words with whoever had gotten the obviously cursed thing sent through their regular mail.  That had to be against Institute regulations.  

She knelt, settling the box on her lap.  She could open the box, but direct contact tended to be contraindicated in the case of most cursed things.  So.  Time to try to figure out what it could be and how to get rid of it.  

Yay.  

Well.  She did work for the Research Department.  

Something that grew heavier the more you carried it… The only thing that came to mind were the false children of the ubume, a Japanese yokai.  But those usually looked like children until you stopped, and, to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any space-warping properties.

Going at this from the other data point… Ugh.  Too many things warped space.  She didn’t even know where to start.  

Good thing she wasn’t planning on putting this on her resume.  

Question:  Would it be safe to just yeet the thing into the wheat?  

She made a face.  It would probably be better to avoid the yeeting for now.  She didn’t want to lose the thing, in case she had to kick the hell out of it or something to get it to stop trapping her. Chucking it as far away from herself as possible would come later.  She put it down on the side of the driveway, where some weeds were starting to come up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t turn out to be one of those cursed objects that punish the victim for trying to get rid of them.  

She walked away, towards the Institute.  

Ten minutes later, she almost walked by the package.  She groaned and glared at the offending object.  Great.

Another option she had was just waiting until someone sent out search parties, but she might be in a pocket dimension or something stupid like that.  There were too many incidents out there where a person disappeared, only to reappear in their last known location but dead from exposure.  

Andi, her parent, could probably find her despite that.  They always managed to find her in faerie, which was…  Not anything like a pocket dimension, once she got down to particulars, but still.  On the other hand, Andi would definitely give her grief for getting stuck in a pocket dimension on a mail run.

No, wait, there were other things she could do first.  Like walking into the wheat.  

Stupid grass was going to poke her so much.  She’d probably wind up with half a ton of seeds in her socks.  

This whole thing was so inconvenient.  She could be doing so many more useful things.

She renewed her promise to have a discussion with whoever had put this stupid thing in with the regular mail.  She turned ninety degrees and stepped off the road.

Ten minutes of walking through grass later, she stepped back onto the driveway.  Honestly, she hadn’t expected that to work.  Whatever.  

Time to peel this baby.  

… She was actively cursed.  If she wanted to make fun of the unboxing event from hell, she very well could.  

She knelt again, asphalt hot under her knees. She brushed away a bit of gravel that pressed against her skin.  

Why was there so much tape on this?  

Some old person packaged this.  She just knew.  

Finally, she tore the cardboard open to reveal—

Newspaper.  

She rolled her eyes and pulled it back aaaaaaand okiedokie.  That was creepy.  That was a freaking stone baby.  A… What was it called?  A lithopedion.  Calcified unborn fetus.  

Totally haunted.  Yep.   A ghost this close would normally set off the alarms in the Detection Department, but they missed things, sometimes.  Like the Great Fae that kidnapped her last month.

Provisionally, she decided to blame Mark, the Institute’s ghost expert and a member of the Containment Department, for this.  

“I’m not your mom,” she said, hoping that would settle this.  “Or your dad. I’m not old enough.  Well—” she rolled her eyes “—technically, physically I’m old enough, but I’m not, like.  Emotionally ready for a kid.  Or to die trapped in the driveway at the place I work on a mail run.  I mean, really.  That would be a sucky way to go.  I mean, I’ve been in sword duels with faeries.”

She stood up.  

“Let’s try this again.”

Ten minutes later she saw the creepy stone baby on the ground in front of her.  Stubborn thing.  

“Like, I’m more than willing to stomp the hell out of you if you don’t uncurse me,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

That wasn’t one hundred percent true.  If this was a ghost, breaking its vessel might break its power, or it might free it.  Ghosts tended not to know that, though.

“One more try,” she said.  

Ten minutes later, she was in exactly the same place as she was before.  

Time for stomping.  She raised her foot.

A fairy dove out of the grass to fight her. He had a sword.  She smacked him with the loaf of bread, which did nothing, and glared with disgust at the stone baby.  It was just delaying.  This whole thing was an illusion.  Stupid illusion rock baby thing.  She’d probably break it and find out that she’d bypassed the Institute entirely and was standing in a stupid field somewhere.  Or maybe she’d been going in a loop, considering that she was still near the thing.  

The fight with the ‘fairy’ turned into rolling on the ground and hair pulling.  This was by design.  Eventually she got within grabbing distance of the stone baby, grabbed it, and brained the ‘fairy’ with it.  Then she slammed it on the ground.  It splintered, shards cutting into her hand.

The ‘fairy’ vanished.

Zoe took a deep breath.  Cool.  That was over then.  Yay.  

Now she’d—

Oh, no.  

The mail.  

.

Deer looked up from her desk as the door opened, saw it was Zoe, and looked back at her email before doing a double-take.  

“What happened to you?” she asked, standing.  “Are you okay?”

Zoe raised a single finger.  “I want to know,” she said, “who is sending cursed stone babies through the regular mail.”  She dumped a bunch of rock on Deer’s desk.  

For several long moments, Deer stared at it. “We’re going to need another session on our shipping policy for hazardous objects.”

“You think?”

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Eight

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Brief Mention of Spanking, Oral (male receiving).  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Word Count:- 2,571

Sitting you down at the dining table in the crypt, as you now called this place, Tony washed his hands and began moving seamlessly around the kitchen preparing what you assumed was pasta, again.  You thought about trying to talk to him, but whenever you opened your mouth, no words came out.  Eventually you took to taking small glances in his direction until he finally had enough.  "Darling let us have a quiet dinner and then I promise, we will try to resolve everything.  Okay?"

"Sure." you replied, staring at the table before returning your gaze to him.  "Um Tony, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah, I guess.  Do you want to set the table while I finish the meatballs?" he smiled, moving effortlessly from one task to the next.

Getting up, you joined him in the kitchen and went about removing the necessary plates and cutlery before placing them where they were needed.  Retrieving the wine glasses proved a more difficult task however when you discovered you were unable to reach the cabinet overhead which housed them.

"Here, allow me darling."  Thinking that Tony was coming to your rescue, you let out a squeal when he placed his hands on your waist and easily lifted you up to reach them.  "How about we leave these two down for the duration of our time here?" he suggested as he lowered you gently back on your feet.

"Would make more sense I suppose.  Though since I'm no longer allowed wine, does it matter what I drink out of?" you mused as you stepped aside to allow him to continue the meal prep and carried the glasses to the table.

Eventually walking after you, Tony allowed you to set down the glasses before taking your hand in his.  "Okay, so the meatballs are in the oven, ready to go and V.I.R.G.I.L. can now take over while we get cleaned up.  Shall we N/Y?"  Reluctantly following him to the master bedroom, you hoped that the incentive of dinner would be enough to keep his hands off you.

Thankfully it seemed your worries were unfounded however when Tony simply ushered you into the shower and proceeded to gently wash every inch of you.  Then stepping out and wrapping a luxurious towel around each of you, the shocks continued when he opened the double doors to the closet and led you inside.  "I'd like you to make an effort for dinner, but honestly if you don't feel like it, I understand.  Just have a look around and see if something catches your eye."  With that he walked to the other side, picked out a complete suit and returned to the bedroom, leaving you alone.

Moving along what you assumed was your half of the walk-in, it still surprised you that you could be shocked by the discovery that all the clothing here were in your size.  Kitted out like a well stocked department store, albeit a high-end one, you planned on something casual until your fingers skimmed over a light grey silk dress.  Taking it down and looking it over, you told yourself you could never pull it off, but placed it in front of you before the mirrored wall all the same.  Hearing Tony inform you that you had about twenty minutes, you threw caution to the wind, found the matching shoes along with a dusky pink set of lingerie and dressed in record time.

Walking out into the bedroom, Tony turned around at the sound of your presence and the look he shot you, turned you on and made you uncomfortable in equal measure.  "My god darling, I thought you were beautiful that night in the restaurant, but now you're a vision.  That is most definitely your color."  Dropping your eyes towards the floor as he came over to stand beside you, Tony kissed your cheek and looked at his watch before raising your chin to face him.  "Ready to go eat, my love?"

"Actually yes.  I am kinda hungry." you answered while trying unsuccessfully to maneuver out of his tender hold.

"Don't do that Y/N.  Don't hide from me . . . or the world." he requested, as he took your hand and led you back to the dining table.  Pulling out your chair, you quickly sat and enjoyed the wonderful aroma permeating around the place while Tony got to work plating up the meal.  Placing it on the table along with water for both of you, you noticed, he too sat down as you tucked into the most delicious spaghetti and meatballs you could ever remember eating.

Having enjoyed the meal in companionable silence, Tony rose from the table but refused to let you help as he cleared up.  "Thank you Tony, that was amazing.  But if you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to cook?"

Laughing at the question, he turned around to face you as he finished off his water.  "Y/N, despite what everyone thinks, I don't actually have a bunch of servants who do everything for me.  I'm quite capable of looking after myself and those I care about."

Not missing this little remark, you turned back towards the table and tried to get your thoughts and feelings in order while Tony finished up what he was doing.  You were however afforded a bit more time when his phone rang and the conversation indicated that Steve was on the other end.  Suspicious as to why Stave was asking questions about a woman he had probably only glimpsed once outside the office, Tony stuck to the 'employee being treated on the company health plan' script before finishing up the conversation.  Looking your way while realizing that Steve might not be as gullible or loyal as he thought, he knew now more than ever that he needed to make you his.

                  *************

Putting away his phone and walking over to join you at the table, his heart broke a little when you pulled your hand back before he had a chance to take hold of it.  Sighing deeply as he thought how best to approach the situation between you, he decided for now he would try to avoid bringing up the fact that you had attempted to kill him not once, but twice.

Taking his seat, you looked up to see him press something on his wristwatch before he lifted his head to look at you.  "I've disabled the shock feature on your nanoparticles.  Now, if you promise not to try anything, perhaps we can discuss our future without any extra fear on your part.  How about you tell me simply why you fear being with me."

Thinking through your situation, coupled with what little you knew about Iron-Man, the Avengers and the slew of enemies lurking around every corner, you checked Tony's demeanor before standing up, moving over to the couch and getting comfortable.  Sighing as he sat down next to you, but acknowledging that you seemed to be thinking, he reluctantly kept his mouth shut until you were ready to finally talk.  Setting aside everything that had happened and could still happen, as well as all the feelings threatening to swallow you whole, you instead set your analytical mind to the task before you.

Thinking back on why you first rejected his advances, you accepted that both his loose morals and your own views on love and relationships was reason enough to steer clear of the egotistical playboy.  Added to that his life as an Avenger and the deck was clearly never in his favor.  However, a small part of you had to admit that being easy on the eyes, coupled with his oh so numerous skillful body parts, meant that falling for him wouldn't be the hardest task in the world.  It was simply a matter of how much you wanted it.  Then of course there was the monumental task of getting away from him if you so chose.

After two unsuccessful attempts, you wondered if you even had it in you to finish him off, but you knew as long as he still had breath in him, you would never be free of the iron avenger.  That just left you relying on your mob friendship and you had to wonder if they really stood a chance against the world famous heroes.  Feeling the exhaustion of everything that had happened, along with the weight of what was to come, you looked towards Tony to see him watching you apprehensively as the minutes you deliberated ticked by.  Finally accepting that when you played ball he tended to give you the benefit of the doubt and so you could only hope that given enough time you could use that to your advantage, while dealing with whatever consequences said timeframe created.

Catching his knee bouncing with irritation, you figured it was probably time to let your inner musings out.  Turning to him, you quickly reiterated your earlier statement about being his flavor of the month and lifting your hand to shush his evident interruption, continued to confess your fears about his superhero lifestyle.

Taking your hands in his, he reaffirmed that everything about you, from your cheeky, defiant attitude to the dangerous streak you kept directed towards him, was more than enough to keep him faithful.  He also promised that if you remained by his side, given enough time and trust, he would be only too happy to hand over the nanoparticle armor he designed for you the first night you slept under this roof.

Letting his words sink in and making a silent wish that you survived long enough to take possession of the promised armor, you kept your expression neutral as you launched yourself across the couch and crashed your lips against his.  Feeling his goatee tickle your chin as your tongues wrestled with each other, you pulled back slightly when your lungs cried out for air.

"Am I to take that as offer accepted, darling?" Tony asked, as he pulled your body closer against his strong frame, a glorious smile evident on his face.

"Take it as I'm willing to give this a try and see how things go." you replied and in the next instance, Tony's skillful hands had unzipped your dress and dropped it off your shoulders.

Moaning at the lacy pink material, because there was no way it could be called a bra, barely concealing your gorgeous tits, he looked up at you with lust-filled eyes and his next words took you completely by surprise.  "Tell me I can make love to you darling.  Please." he begged and as you realized this was the first time he had asked your permission, it finally hit you just how much power you might actually hold over him.

Feeling the now usual, yet powerful, tingling sensation deep in your core, the shocks continued coming as you nodded your head and allowed Tony to have his way with you.  Leaning forward to kiss your lips, his tongue snaked out to dance with yours but didn't linger before moving down to place soft wet trails along your neck.  Giving yourself over to the tune he was pulling from your body, a deep groan left your throat as Tony's mouth latched onto part of your exposed breast and he bit down just enough to send shockwaves rushing south towards your aching sex.  Writhing against him as he then ran his tongue across the area to soothe the sting, affording the same treatment to the other breast had you cursing his level of self control as you silently wished for him to fuck you senseless.

As it was, you refused to give voice to this particular desire, and instead simply reached out, grabbed hold of his hair and brought his sinfully skillful mouth back to yours.  Kissing him with both a passion and hunger you never knew you possessed, your body emitted a squeal as he rose from the couch with you secured in his powerful arms and walked you back in the direction of the master bedroom.  Losing your dress somewhere along the way as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, you looked at him in complete frustration as he dropped your now almost naked form on the bed while he stood before you, fully clothed.

Looking down on you as your eyes pleaded with him to join you in a state of undress, his eyes tightened as they roamed over your heaving form while his gaze focused with pin-point accuracy on your heels.  Leaning forward, his hands took hold of your right leg and removed the shoe before moving to the left.  Kicking your legs out in pure frustration, Tony couldn't help laughing at the pout that now settled on your features.

Stepping closer still while removing his jacket, his lips found yours again before resting his head against your forehead.  "Don't pout Y/N, good things come to all in time." and with that he moved back and winked at you before slowly and teasingly unbuttoning his white dress shirt.  Licking your lips as more and more flesh appeared before you, you still couldn't figure out why this man wanted to be yours.  Tossing the shirt across the room while removing his shoes, your thoughts were pulled back to the present as his weight between your legs caused the bed to dip and your eyes to lock with his.

"Want to unwrap your package, darling?" he smirked and even you couldn't stifle the laugh that erupted past your lips as you joined him on your knees.  Reaching forwards, your trembling fingers closed on his belt only to be stalled when his hands rested over yours.  "Take your time Y/N, neither one of us is going anywhere."

Licking your lips while looking up at him, you nodded, before unbuckling his belt, undoing the button and deftly slipping down the zipper.  Placing your fingers along the waistband, you pushed his pants down to his knees as his hand reached forward, cupped your chin and kissed you passionately while your hands found their way into his boxers.  Placing them firmly over his ass, his breath hitched against your mouth as you squeezed hard.  "Fuck me darling, you're too good at that." he panted, and even you had to admit the praise was kind of intoxicating.

Continuing to knead and pinch the firm flesh, you deftly maneuvered one hand around the front and taking hold of his warm, semi-hard cock, you coaxed the most delicious sounds from the world's most eligible bachelor as your hand worked him up and down.  Then somehow managing to use one hand to nudge down his boxers, you marveled at your hand wrapped around his shaft as creamy precum made it's home against your palm.

Moving your hand down to massage his sac as your head bent forward, Tony's knees began to shake while your tongue started to lick the vein on the underside of his cock.  Finally gaining control of his facilities, he caught hold of you and tossed you on your back before moving forward between your legs.  Looking down at you through hooded eyes, he smacked your thigh playfully before placing a soft kiss against your panties.  Then rising from the bed, he fully divested himself of his clothes, before smirking over at you saying, "You've had your fun darling.  Now it's my turn."  

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

[secretobsessionstuff]

i’ve missed madix and riley a bunch lately!! so maybe when you’ve got the time (and inspiration ) would you write something for them? maybe with the phrase “hey, you passed out. don’t sit up yet, just relax.” (or something along the lines of rhat) for them? i hope you are staying well & healthy, and happy new year!!!

Sorry it took me so long to get to this prompt. Anyway enjoy this fic that is in no way inspired by my life. 

“I know you’re nervous, but you have to eat something,” Madix said to Riley as they drove into the student parking lot.

It was early, around 8 o’clock in the morning, and neither of them had had breakfast yet. There was a coffee shop inside the building that Madix hoped would have his favourite donut. Next to him in the passenger seat, Riley wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs for the millionth time. Riley was certainly not hoping to eat a donut because his stomach was already queasy from the nerves. It was the master’s thesis presentation day, and he dreaded what was to come. A full day of watching presentations was not appealing, especially since he was the second to last person. Riley wished that he could have been earlier and just get it over with, but instead he had to sit through other people presenting their research.

When Riley didn’t respond – too focused on wiping the sweat on his pants – Madix carried on. “There’s still a while before we all meet in the lecture hall. At least get something to drink.”

So that’s what Riley did. He carefully sipped his tea (coffee would simply make his hands shake more) while Madix ate a decent breakfast. He munched on his donut, forever worried about his boyfriend who looked around nervously. Madix reached his hands across the table to grab onto Riley’s. “It’s going to be fine. It’ll be less than an hour and then you’re done!”

“Forty-five minutes is so long.” That is an ungodly amount of time for one person to talk continuously. Riley thought back to his undergrad thesis that was only 10 minutes and even that was terrifying! He did not want to ramble in front of a whole room for an hour.

“And the whole thing is fantastic,” Madix insisted. “You practiced for me a billion times and it always sounded great.”

“I wish it could just be you in the room.”

“Then just look at me the whole time.”

Riley let out a nervous laugh. He supposed looking at Madix for an hour straight didn’t sound too bad. “Okay yeah, yeah. It’ll be fine. It’s fine.” 

Madix raised Riley’s hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “It’ll be more than fine.” Then he pushed a donut towards his boyfriend who was looking far too pale that morning. “Now eat something goddammit.”

Later when that donut and tea were sitting uneasily in Riley’s stomach, they all found themselves in the lecture hall. Riley tapped on the table in front of him, waiting for the presentations to begin. The first half of the day wasn’t terrible. The presentations were interesting enough that Riley could forget about his own. Well, his taping fingers and bouncing legs never really forgot about what was to come, but the panic didn’t start until his time slot got nearer. By the time the lunch break came around, Riley’s stress was rising higher. Of course, he completely ignored eating again because the ache in his belly was more than a little stress stomach-ache.

His time slot was next. Every inch of his skin was on fire except for his hands that were cold and clammy. From beneath the table, he felt Madix put his hand over his bouncing leg.

Madix leaned over so that he could whisper. “Please breathe, you’re as white as a ghost.”

Riley wished that he could be a ghost and disappear. Instead, he settled for a trip to the bathroom. Maybe he could flush himself down the toilet. “I’ll be back.”

As Riley stood up from his chair, he needed to catch himself on the desk in front of him. He reached his sweaty palms out to save him from falling forward as the edges of his vision got dark. Whoa, his head felt funny. And God, his stomach felt worse. As if he were drunk, he swayed out of the door. Madix didn’t follow him but that was okay because he needed a moment to himself.

Riley felt like he was dreaming as he walked down the hallway. Once in the bathroom, he braced himself on the sink and tried to take deep breaths. Sometimes he swears that his eyes have dimmers, and in that moment, he thought for sure that someone was dimming the lights behind his eyes.

The darkness didn’t spread luckily, but the nausea was certainly spreading through his body. Oh fuck, he really did not want to be sick just minutes before his presentation. He also didn’t want to risk presenting with a vomit-stained shirt, so he knelt to the floor in one of the stalls.

The still water in the toilet taunted the choppy seas in his own belly. Actually, he wondered how his stomach could have been anything more than a dried-up wasteland. The only thing he ate or drank that day was a donut and a tea. Still, his stomach was mad and didn’t like the stress that ran through his veins.

A harsh gag came up Riley’s throat, but it was dry. Oh God, oh no! He couldn’t believe this was about to happen. His stomach spasmed again but still nothing came up. His chest burned. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to be here. Another gag grated up his throat.

Meanwhile, Madix was getting more concerned with how long Riley had been gone for. The current student was wrapping up his presentation, and then there would only be the question period before it was Riley’s turn. That’s it. Madix left to find his boyfriend.

Madix opened the bathroom door just in time to hear a strangled noise come from one of the stalls. He could see Riley kneeling on the floor. Riley moaned miserably after letting out that choked gag. Madix swore under his breath and mumbled, “Oh deer…”

He stood behind Riley who left the stall door open. He watched as Riley’s shoulders quaked with each empty heave. “Well shit, Ry.”

Riley was too focused on the roiling of his gut to be surprised by Madix’s sudden appearance. He sniffled as snot ran from his nose. “Ugh – I’m sorry.” He coughed which triggered another rough retch. “I can’t. I – hic.”

“Alright, alright.” Madix got to the floor next to Riley and put his hand on the boy’s trembling back. He needed to calm him down before anything worse happened. “Remember to breathe.”

Instead of breathing, Riley decided to make thing worse for him. “Is it my turn yet?”

“I’m not sure…” Madix bit his lip in worry. “How about you focus on calming down before worrying about that.”

Riley really wanted to get up. His time had run out and no one would care that his stomach was in knots. “I have to get back.” A belch burst from his mouth that left saliva dripping from his lips. He wiped it away. He made a move to get up, but a heavy hand stayed on his back. “I haven’t actually puked yet.”

Madix clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s because there’s barely anything in your stomach, baby.” He hated the fact that he could feel the tension in Riley’s muscles. He hated the way Riley’s legs shook as he tried to get up. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I have to do this.”

Madix stayed quiet, unsure how to respond. He had no clue what time it was, but he guessed that the lecture hall would be waiting for the next student. Madix sighed and backed up with his hands in the air. “…If you say so.”  

Riley sniffled and stood up with legs that trembled as bad a newborn deer. Once he became upright, those lights behind his eyes flickered for a moment. That dream-like sensation returned and he couldn’t tell which way was up. There came another flicker of his vision before the lights died out completely.

“Riley!” Madix shouted as his boyfriend went limp. The boy’s legs buckled awkwardly, and some unconscious part of Riley’s brain made a last-ditch effort to catch himself before blacking out. His arms came reaching out towards Madix.

“Ah okay, I got you. I got you.” Madix caught Riley before he could fall to the ground. They became a tangle of arms, and Madix wasn’t prepared to untangle the mess. He heard Riley mumbled something in his semi-conscious state, but it was all gibberish. “Shh, You’re okay.” It was good that he only really blacked out for a second.

“Ugh…Madix.” Riley’s eyelids fluttered opened, but soon closed again. There was no way for him to hold his own weight. His head rolled forward onto Madix’s chest as he was being carefully lowered to the ground.

Madix gently sat Riley up against the wall. They were no longer in the stall because Madix had stumbled backwards to catch his boyfriend. He clumsily brought them both to the floor just as Riley’s eyes began to regain clarity. Madix put his hand on Riley’s pale cheek and slightly rubbed his thumb across his dry skin.

“What happened?” Riley mumbled. He squinted in the florescent light of the bathroom and moaned in pain. Everything hurt. His mouth was dry, and the nausea was as persistent as ever. In his disoriented state, the only thing he knew for certain was that his belly was being stirred up. The thumping of his heartbeat was a ticking clock telling him that he was still screwing up. He put his hands on the ground, about to stand, but then he saw Madix’s sweet face.

“Hey, you passed out,” Madix said softly. “Don’t get up yet. Just relax.” He gave Riley’s shoulder a squeeze. His boyfriend really did look awful with dark sunken eyes and a grimace of pain.

Riley groaned and wrapped his arms around his torso. He wanted to say something to Madix, probably sorry or thank you, but the only thing that came out was a wet gag. He followed it with a weak heave, the first one to not be dry. A small amount of pale vomit spilled past his lips and landed on his shirt.

Madix cooed, feeling terrible that his boyfriend had to deal with this. “You’re alright, baby. Let it happen.”

Riley let out a shallow burp that brought with it a thin string of bile and frothy saliva. A hiccupped seized his chest and forced his shoulders forward as another small gush of sick dripped down his chin. Riley wanted to cry but his eyes were too dry. “Ugh, what am I going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Madix said as he ran a paper towel under cold water. He came back with the wet paper and gently wiped Riley’s face. “You’re going to sit here until you feel ready to get up – until you won’t pass out when you try to stand – and then we’ll talk to someone about rescheduling. We’ll see about getting you a more private presentation.”

Riley moaned. “I don’t like any of this.”

“I know you don’t,” Madix said. “I’ll help you fix this. There must be accommodations for mental health.”

That seemed like the best Riley could hope for. He accepted that there was no way he’d be able to go on today. It was irresponsible for him to push himself anymore, and Madix managed to convince him that he didn’t screw anything up. Things happen and most people are understanding.

“However,” Madix began with an intent look, “that doesn’t mean you can just not eat or drink. Like I said, you’re hurting yourself, and I don’t like seeing like this.”

“I know...I’m sorry.”

Madix gave his boyfriend a sad smile. “No need to apologize to me.”