#an itch you continue to be unable to scratch

[sugoi-writes]

Hi, i have a proposition for you...

Alastor catching himself bleating whenever reader touches him 👀

(i just find it so adorable when he squeaks like a little fawn when Rosie pulls him in that one scene and the theory that he does that only when he's happy and with a person he feels comfortable with)

Gdhdhd I had discovered this a while back, and the idea THRILLS me. To no fucking end! I hope this is okay and worth the wait! (Two Fics in one week? HUH?)

No warnings for this one! Just cute cute fluff (I'm doing my best! ;w; gdhdhdhd)

A Bleating Heart - Alastor x GN! Reader

You were reading your book in Alastor's armchair, taking in the heat that radiated from the mint green flames of the fireplace. When you heard a groan to your rear, you paused. You looked behind you, only to see Alastor tossing and turning onto his side. You couldn't help your frown, watching as Alastor's brows furrowed. The Radio Demon was frustrated, his cheek smashed into his pillow aggressively. 

"...everything alright, dear?" You ask softly, recalling that he was 'laying down' to get rid of his headache. Though you knew that Alastor wasn't one for sleep, you kept quiet and content all the same. But when he shook his head, pointing directly to it, you understood perfectly. 

" 'Antlers still bothering you, huh...? Headache?" 

Alastor hummed lowly, turning over and laying face down into his bed. While he was muffled by a pillow, you could barely make out what he said:

" I loathe shedding... It hasn't even begun, and-- oh, they itch-- to no end..." 

"And I assume that doesn't help your headache either?" 

Alastor grumbled, unable to be upset at your gentle pestering. You doted on him like his mother, a quality he would never admit to loving about you," ...Not a lick, dear..." 

You innocently stand from the armchair, walking over to Alastor's bedside," Would... Would it helped if you laid your head in my lap?" 

Alastor raises his head up slightly, eyes narrowed," I hardly see how that could help in this predicament..." You sigh, gently rolling Alastor over onto his back before sitting in the space he used to occupy. Begrudgingly, he did not stop you, but his eyes followed you cautiously. 

"Just trust me... Okay?" 

Alastor's expression soured. Trust is a hard-earned thing to receive from him. The Radio Demon, in all his glory, was slow to make acquaintances, and slower to give out trust. But, he relented, allowing you to sit beside him comfortably. When you patted your lap expectantly, Alastor complied. Due to his antlers, he awkwardly laid sideways on his bed, knees rising and coming together as his head finally met your lap. Thankfully, you would not be disemboweled by his accursed antlers tonight. 

When you smiled down to him, Alastor simply closed his eyes, unable to look your way without feeling embarrassed. This was well outside of his comfort zone. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable while his body did everything to antagonize him. He felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, despite your plush thighs cradling his head.

However, when he felt your hand brush against his hair, scratching gently, his throat ran dry. All nerves and stiffeness became lesser; like the rest of his senses, they became dulled. 

The touch was... Foreign, soft... But not unwelcome. It was soothing, even. When you continued to touch, your hands working in subtle circles against his scalp, he couldn't help the quiet, pleased hum that left him. 

" 'Feels good, my buck?" 

Alastor cracked one eye open, his smile wavering,"...please don't make me say it out loud," Alastor said quietly, a chuckle rising in his throat. You shrugged, not minding his shyness. 

"Hmm, it would be so much cuter if you did, though~" 

When your hand moved to an antler, scratching gently at the base, a full-body tremor ran through his neck down to his hooves. His knees knocked together, a quiet, animalistic noise tumbling out of him. You blink a few times, surprised by the noise, and decided to repeat the action. When a meek, content bleat hit your ears, your eyes nearly doubled in size. You were beaming down at Alastor, a large, giddy inhale expanding your chest. Your heart throbbed at the subconscious gesture. 

Meanwhile, Alastor's eyes were slammed shut, much tighter than before. His heart was racing with anxiety, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. 

Why. Why now, of all times, could he not keep his pathetic little ticks at bay? Of course he found comfort in your company, but-- 

...Maybe he should have used his words, after all. 

"Alastor, was that...?" 

"If you value your life, you will never speak of this again." 

You throw your free hand up defensively, a coy smile on your face," Oh sure, sure... Of course. Whatever you say, Alastor." When a second hand joined the other, lightly scratching at the base of his other antler, that small, high pitched bleat bounced right out of him. 

"Mmm... Yes... Yes, not a word, mon ange... Not a single word... but this-- this is fine for now..." 

You chuckle, increasing the pressure you applied as Alastor melted into your touch. 

"If you continue to be this adorable, I would never speak again, if it meant you stayed like this forever~" Alastor's hands folded together, laying on his chest. Soon enough his knees fell apart, creating a wide 'v'. He looks to you with both eyes as his brow twitches. 

"And what fun would that be? I rather enjoy our conversations, cher." You nearly snorted, surprised that Alastor didn't realize you were joking. 

You laugh, your shoulders shaking with an effort to be quiet as Alastor's legs finally gave out, hanging lazily off of the bed. When your hands moved higher up his antlers, you noticed his legs swinging back and forth idly. You wondered if he noticed, or if this was yet another subconscious action. 

" Fine, fine... I promise to keep talking~ but only if I get to keep spoiling you like this." 

Alastor feels his heart squeeze at the notion, a warmth spreading across his cheeks and ears. He refused to confirm or deny your request with words, instead shimmying his shoulders to sink further into your lap. An open-mouthed sigh was your only response as you lightly dragged your nails across one of his points, his hands untangling from one another. His body almost felt like liquefied, completely and utterly relaxed, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on his bed. And for once, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it while in someone else's presence. 

He felt safe... Immensely so. But he would never profess to that to you so soon. 

For now, he was content with you playing with his hair, scratching his irritable antlers while he listened to you speak. Quite frankly, it wouldn't take long for Alastor's mind to shut down, his body losing the fight to slumber. When you noticed his breathing toggle to a steady, silent repetition, you resigned yourself to being a pillow. If you were honest, you would sooner die again than move from that spot. You would only permit that once Alastor woke up again, head clear and eyes soft... You wondered how he would look waking up, the adorable thought alone making you feel a surge of glee.

You didn't mind the sensation of pins and needles settling in your legs, knowing that this was a rare moment. Why interrupt something so fleeting? So precious?

You couldn't help but watch as Alastor laid in your lap, unmoving and completely slack. You decided you wouldn't tell him about how he lost his smile while he slept. In the rarest of moments, his lips were agape, formed into a flat, horizontal line. You'd tuck that secret into the back of your mind for safe keeping... A fond memory you'd hang on to for the rest of your afterlife. (A secret almost as precious as his quiet snores, which started when you played with his hair again.) You almost squeaked when Alastor bleated again, much softer than when he was awake. Yes, it would be best if you never mentioned it... Alastor would die from sheer embarrassment alone, you think.

You let out a tired yawn, your mind wandering. Honestly? If you were really, truly in Hell... Well, this was a pretty splendid way to spend it, wasn't it? Why seek forgiveness and redemption, when your entire world was in your lap? And with that thought in mind, you decided to get some sleep, your head resting against the cool wood of Alastor's headboard. 

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Okay, continuing the idea from this post... (Basically, that the witchers from each school can shift into the animal that their school is named after, but also get some comical/cute traits of that animal.)

The mages didn't intend to create shapeshifters originally, they were mostly just fooling around and seeing what would happen. (With real children, yes they are horrible people.) But then someone found a combination of chaos and genetics that allowed a subject to shapeshift into an animal under certain circumstances. So they went "hey, what else can we do with this?" and on the testing went.

Eventually they thought to send their new experiments up against actual monsters and realized that they had the potential for a magnificent warrior...or minion. Same thing.

Over time, they realized some drawbacks:

The new creatures - dubbed "witchers" and further divided by which creature they could shift into - would first shift into a baby of their species. Not terribly useful.

As the witcher grew in age and chaos ability, so did their animal form...and never seemed to STOP growing. (There was a long argument over whether this was beneficial or not.)

When terribly wounded, the witcher would often change into their animal form, seeming unable to control the change until they healed most of their wounds.

Shifted witchers required both food and magical energy to sustain themselves and their abilities. This made them ferocious against chaos-fueled monsters, as they could absorb the chaos from those they killed, but proved a weakness if they absorbed less chaos than they needed to heal the wounds they had taken.

The full moon, which raised the ambient level of chaos in the world, would force a shift unless the witcher had impeccable control. Even then, it was so-so.

Once shifted, the animal instincts easily overpowered the witcher's conscious mind - at least until they had long practice in controlling themselves. Young cats got the zoomies and old ones took long naps. Wolves played. Vipers sunned themselves. Bears foraged for food or - if it was cold - hibernated.

The mages attempted creating a female bear ONCE. It proved to be their downfall - mama bears do not suffer threats to their cubs.

Now please imagine:

Teeny tiny wolf cubs chasing each other around the training grounds, biting each other's tails and tripping over their new paws.

Master trainers scruffing them and carrying them in an elbow or over a shoulder, while the tiny puppy tail wagged uncontrollably. Teaching them what their new bodies could do, with the teacher the size of a wagon and the students not yet knee high.

Puppies trying to scratch an itch and slowly tipping over.

Adult witchers shifting and cuddling with the students, carrying several on their back.

Ivar, oldest and most powerful of the vipers, is as large as a barn and can hold his entire school in his coiled form - and can swallow most monsters whole.

Vesemir is the size of a shed, and Geralt (twice grassed) and Eskel (incredible chaos) are not much smaller. Lambert is a perfectly normal size, thank you very much...he just looks tiny next to them.

Clothing, armor, and weapons which are crafted from the remains of chaos-fueled monsters (ie, they are inherently magical) CAN shapeshift with the witcher. Mundane items (cotton or wool, iron and plain steel) cannot. They lose more knives that way...

Young witchers learning how to harvest, process, and use various monster bits so they don't shift, shift back, and end up naked or in ruined clothing. (Yes, even the THREAD used to sew the clothing together must come from monsters. It's a pain.)

An old witcher taking the time to relax in their shifted form in the woods and being mistaken for a monster, so a nearby town hires a SECOND witcher to hunt them...bonus points if the second witcher is a friend or lover of the first, who came looking for them. Just walking into a clearing going "really? You know that town is going crazy over a huge monster that's moved in, and here I find you lying around."

(It's Ivar and Keldar. Ivar just laughs. "I ate the only monster last week, while I waited for you." And then he snatches Keldar up and wraps him in his coils.)

@everything-but-the-not-natural I know you were excited about this AU!

[weskie]

What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, amab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else.  Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it.  Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day.  Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges.  He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch.  Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away.  He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it.  You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down.  When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?”  You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he?  He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you?  Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair.  Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs.  “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly. 

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke.  The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap.  He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss.  Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains.  He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck.  You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head.  Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring.  Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it.  He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need.  “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing.  “Just relax.  Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come.  It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips.  Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs.  Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up.  He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him. 

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.  

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly.  His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you.  His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another.  He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate? 

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock.  He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes.  He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him.  Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his.  You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you. 

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away.  “Again, huh?”  You breathe.  

Again… yes. 

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons.  Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another.  You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him.  It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him.  He may not have his full strength yet, but this?  This more than makes up for it.  One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied.  Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him.  You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!”  You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs.  Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him.  The tip of it swipes your clit, making you buck and whine.  “Al!”

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him.  These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now?  Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache.  It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be.  The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your pretty little pussy.

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs.  He didn’t even have to lift a finger…  There’s so many things he could do with you.  He could lift you, surely, to his face.  Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you between your sopping folds.  Or he could lower you onto his cock right now.  Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing.  He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless.  Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your cunt.  You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your slit.

“I-I thought– mm!”  You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”  

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones part your drenched pussy lips.  You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches.  All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this.  He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!”  Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind.  Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance.  “O-Oh my god!”  You mewl, head falling back.  “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once.  Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him…  Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment.  His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.  

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches.  “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words.  Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.  

But he does know why, deep down.  Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth.  You deserve this.  You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you.  For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything. 

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your cunt down your ass and onto the bed.  It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress.  But he doesn’t care.  Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly.  He can practically hear it hitting the depths of your cunt, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure.  And oh… you deserve it.  You deserve all that he can possibly give you.  You were there for everything.  The good, the bad, the horrifying…  Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.  

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself.   You come undone so beautifully.  He has to grasp his cock and squeeze the base damn near to the point of harming himself just to keep from blowing his load right then and there.  Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock… 

Even then, it’s like he can feel it.  The sensation is dull, but it is there.  Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your cunt– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him.  You belong to him.  You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur.  “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release.  You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear.  It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.  

“O-One more for me.”  Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze.  He will not miss a second of this.  “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.”  He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more.  As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.  

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make.  It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your cunt.  Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change.  “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands.  As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your cunt while the others force you down onto his cock.  “Oh, god!”  He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.  

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white.  There’s nothing.  Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth.  Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe.  It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him.  You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs.  It’s all he can think to say.  Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually.  But, for now, this much is due.  “For… having lost control.”  It isn’t even an exaggeration.  At some point, all thought went out the door.  There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress. 

He needs to become better at that.  

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow.  “You’re full of surprises…”  There’s a hint of amusement in your voice.  That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him.  “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more.  For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat.  You feel like home.  What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

[theemporium]

❤️ 27 quinn Hughes

(Have a great day love)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

27. “Why don’t we use some of your toys?”

series masterlist

.

Long distance relationships came with their trials and tribulations. 

There were a series of factors you had to take into consideration that you had never given a second thought in past relationships. Beyond your personal schedules, you had to consider the time difference between Michigan and Vancouver. And whilst you were aware three hours wasn’t the worst difference in the world, it had a horrible habit of being a pest. 

Quinn was usually asleep by the time you woke up. You were in classes when he woke up. He was in practice by the time you got home. You were usually fighting the urge to fall asleep after a long day by the time he got out of training and meetings. 

It was annoying.

But one of the worst parts was the physical touch—or, the lack thereof. 

There were days you wanted nothing more than to come home and curl into his arms. There were days you were watching his games and wishing you could be there after the final buzzer, whether it’s to celebrate or sulk together. There were days you just wanted to be able to kiss him instead of wistfully thinking about it when you were on facetime with him. 

And, there were days where you just really wanted to fuck your boyfriend. 

But it wasn’t always possible and whilst the late night phone calls with Quinn moaning and panting and groaning in your ear as he told you everything he wanted to do to you were hot, it didn’t always scratch the itch. Sometimes, it wasn’t enough to get yourself off. 

Quinn knew that. Quinn understood that better than anyone else. So really, there was no other person less likely to judge you from taking it a step further, for buying a few toys to try and spice things up when you were in bed alone.

Yet, it didn’t stop your face from burning in embarrassment when Quinn reached into your bedside drawer, slightly preoccupied with your tongue in his mouth and your hand wrapped around his cock that it took his brain a few seconds to realise wasn’t feeling the foil wrapper of a condom in his hand. 

“Oh baby, you didn’t tell me I had some competition.” 

You let out a groan, your hands covering your face as Quinn pulled the toy out of your drawer. “Kill me now. Put me out of my misery.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” he teased, sounding far too amused with the situation. He inspected the toy curiously, pressing a small button on the side and watching it buzz to life. He almost snorted at the way you whined in embarrassment as the noise echoed through your bedroom. “Should I be worried I’m being shown up?” 

“Stop being mean,” you grumbled behind your hands. 

“I thought you liked it when I was mean,” Quinn shot back, turning the toy off and dropping it somewhere on the bed as he reached for your hands to pull them away from your face. “Hey, it’s not embarrassing, you know that?” 

“You weren’t meant to see them,” you murmured, still unable to meet his eyes. 

“Oh, them? There’s more?” Quinn mused, his fingers lightly tracing shapes along your wrist. “Why don’t we use some of your toys?”

Your gaze snapped up, lips parted in shock. “What?” 

“Do they make you feel good?” Quinn asked. 

You nodded, somewhat speechless. 

“Then, good. We have the same goal,” he replied, his lips twitching upwards when you let out a surprised snort of laughter. “Plus,” Quinn continued as he leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your ear. “I want you to show me exactly how you use them.” 

You gulped a little. “Quinn—”

“C’mon, baby,” he taunted, his voice a little rougher as he lightly nipped the sensitive spot below your ear. “Show me how you make yourself come. Tell me exactly what you think about when you have that toy between your legs, pretending it’s me.”

.

[hauntedhokage]

Day 17: Back Scratches

Sylus/F!MC

word count: 504

“You’re always so deep in thought, even at the crane machines,” you murmur, your fingers gently dragging along Sylus’s broad back as you sit beside him. He’s laying face down on his bed, indulging in a moment of peace and quiet while you were visiting the N109 zone. These were rare, since usually he was pulling you into situations while you were pressing every button he had as retaliation. “What do you think about out there?”

“Why does it matter, kitten? I’ve always got a hand on you anyway.”

“I’m not asking about how alert you are or any desire to look out for me while we’re out together and I’m sure you know that.” 

Your eyes catch one of his arms reaching for his back, likely in an attempt to scratch that has you swatting his hand away so you could do it yourself. Your nails would feel better anyway, and would actually scratch whatever itch he had without him attempting to dislocate his shoulder in his attempt to take care of it. 

“Feel good?”

“Could you keep going? Your fingers feel nice.”

That much you knew, he loved when your nails dug into your back and shoulders during more sinful moments. A light back scratch was softer compared to that, but you enjoyed giving him these little moments of non-sexual intimacy that lowered his guard just enough. He had enough to deal with, and he might act like it was easy to do what he did you knew it wore him down on occasion. 

“Gonna talk to me if I do?” 

“Sweetie,” he sighs, skin tensing when you dug your nails in a bit deeper as they rake down his spine.  “You can be a bit of a pest, y’know that?”

“You’re into it and you know that.”

“That’s what you think, kitten.”

“Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t trust me.” 

Your nails continue to scratch along his back anyway, and you smile at the soft groan that leaves him at the sensation. His muscles relax under your touch, and you hear him lightly humming a song that sounded familiar but you’re unable to pin it down exactly. This was the Sylus that you adored, the vulnerable man who let himself relax in your presence. 

“I suppose I’ll satisfy you, sweetie.” He starts, picking up his head just a bit ago look at you properly. “When we’re together and I’m deep in thought, it’s because I’m thinking of you.”

“Not business?”

“I like to appreciate our time together. We don’t get much these days.” 

That was a fair point, and you still your hands in favor of laying yourself on his body to wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss to his cheek has him humming, his cheek rising against yours when you press your face to his. 

“When can I expect another crack in your mask?” You ask as your fingers scratch at his scalp gently. 

“Likely when you scratch my back next. Or how about a nice massage, sweetie?”

[kana-daydreams]

ms. delinquent || sakura | humour | 0.8k

°*:･ᰔeveryone, but sakura, knows you're a girl.

tags: cross-dresser!f!reader. tall!f!reader. gender stereotyping. mild swearing.

wbrk masterlist

The soles of your well-worn black sneakers skid back to a screeching stop; your gakuran, coloured the same and thrown casually over your shoulders, billowing behind you like a cape against rushing wind.  

Further to your left, a chorus of male voices erupts. They bellow your name in exuberant cheer when you manage to dodge, with practised ease, the strong arm that intentionally hurtles a fist towards your face; while others egg on your split-tone haired opponent and junior who continues to throw punch after punch at you across the courtyard of your school— the infamous Furin High. 

“Going soft, already? Don't tell me yer thinkin' about backing out.” Sakura teases with a wide grin when you gather some distance between you both. “Thought you were the second-years’ Top Dog?!” he adds, his predatory grin growing further before he starts sprinting in your direction, lunging at you with a raised fist.

Just like you, Sakura was determined. Determined to find out who was the strongest between you two.

Determined to be the strongest.

He’d posed the challenge of a duel after he witnessed yesterday with his own eyes, you practically eliminate an entire squadron of guys twice your size without a single scratch marking your surprisingly flawless skin. And kept on pestering you the entire day like a petulant child that didn’t get their way, until they did.

Well...it wasn't as if you weren't itching for a fight with the emotionally reactive teen who’d defeated Shishitoren’s second-in-command.

So why not indulge him?

You scoff. "Who said anything about backing out?” Your body twists to the side, evading his punch and you slip behind him, your hand catching a hold of both his wrists. You pin them firmly against his back, then lean down slightly, lips inches away from his right ear. “Huh? Kitty cat.” You drawl and Sakura’s body involuntarily shudders at your warm breath, ticklish against his ear.

Your lips curve into an amused smile as you watch the tip of his ear colour a deep red, before he forces himself free from your grasp.

“D-Don't call me that, y-you creep?!” He springs back, arms up and fingers curled into fists, in defence. 

“Aww, but you're such an easy tease.” You coo, clutching your stomach, unable to stifle your fits of laughter. “It’s cute.”

Sakura growls at your words. “Ain’t nothin’ cute about me! If anyone’s cute, it’s you, pretty boy!” 

His words catch you off-guard, your lips forming a small ‘O’, heat warming at your cheeks. You peer down, bashful from his 'compliment'.  “You think…” You squirm, voice soft almost timid as you raise a shy gaze to look across at him. “You think, I’m cu—” A sudden force barrels into your stomach and you feel as if all the air has been knocked out your lungs.

Your face scrunches and a grunt falls from your frowning lips when you notice the smug look on Sakura's—your assailant—face, your body falling backwards from the force.

“Heh, that’s what you—”

“You asshole!”

Sakura feels a tight grip pull on his shirt, his blue and yellow eyes drawing wide. 

“If I fall—you fall!”

 And he does— directly on top of you.

His head lies buried against your stomach, his nose catching a muted floral scent, both your limbs tangled together.  

Sakura groans and his hands attempt to find purchase to pull himself up. But when they do, they cup something soft…squishy? And definitely not solid ground. 

Your breath hitches. Sakura freezes. Everything and everyone stills—silence.

Sakura feels a shock ripple through his body, and the hairs on his skin standing tall like soldiers. 

He lurches…? Scurries back, seemingly teleporting as far as he can away from you, and points a finger, wiggling it aggressively in your direction. "W-why is t-there a lump of f-fat on your chest?!"

You push yourself up on your elbows, before sitting fully upright. "Why do you think, dumbass?" You mumble, heat fanning lightly across your face.

And when it clicks—your floral scent, your plush chest masked by an oversized white shirt, and the softness of your body underneath him— Sakura’s ready to combust from all the heat burning underneath his skin.

He looks up at you. He looks down back at his deflowered hand and then up at you again, his lips refusing to cease their relentless quiver. “Y-You’re a g-girl?” He swallows thickly, the feeling of the full mound of your boob he'd attempted to use as leverage, still tingling in the palm of his hand.

You confirm his question with a single nod.

"I just...my hand was...it touched—"

"My breast?"

Sakura sucks in a breath, his face growing impossibly more red. He then clears his throat in a futile attempt to collect himself. “...But how? Are you sure you're a woman?" He arches a brow. "T-There must be a mistake. You've always seemed so...so rough. Way to aggressive and so mas—”

Sakura never gets to finish his sentence when his mismatched eyes cross, and he doubles over in pain from the powerful punch that meets him square in the stomach.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[eccentricwritingbaby]

i miss you, i love you

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary - danny gets back from the mexican gp and realizes just how badly he missed his wife and kids. that all leads to many questions about his future.

masterlist

quick author’s note! the kids are named because that's just easier for me but i do apologize if that’s annoying :/ oldest is joey (10) middle is austin (7) and youngest is delaney (4). 

-

the sun poured in through the curtains that were left just a bit too wide open last night, causing you to blink heavily and finally open your eyes.

the best part of your wake up was the lovely tattooed arm that lay across your stomach and the man whom it belonged to warm and comforting pressed up right against your back. daniel had arrived home only a day prior from the mexico gp; therefore, having him there in the morning made your smile grow so much wider as you stretched and began to wake up.

the sun was entirely still too bright for your fresh eyes, causing you to roll over and into the warmth of your husband. he caught on quick, wrapping his arm tightly around your back, tucking you into him further. 

“g’morning, love,” his voice scratches out into a mumble.

“morning, baby,” you mumble back to him.

daniel’s face tugs a small smile as he relishes being home with his family. as much as he loved the adrenaline pump in racing, the fans, the tracks, the travels and so on, he continuously is bogged down due to his family being unable to travel with him. his wandering thoughts are abruptly stopped as he feels his lovely wife begin her trail of morning kisses spread over his chest, neck, and now his graciously awaiting lips.

“mmh i missed this,” he hummed into the kiss you gave him. you smiled up at him while whispering a quick ‘so did i, baby’ against his lips.

you both had been together for so long and yet your spark was shining and sparkling bright as ever. daniel had joked before that it was because you both simply just lived in your own bubble, therefore there were no ‘exterior forces’ to get in the way. but everyone knew by just the way you looked at each other that you two were just in love, therefore your prosperity was inevitable.

you both were just simply enjoying each others presence and basking in the loving exchanges of kisses and cuddles the morning brought, “d’ya reckon the rascals are up?” daniel questions in between your light make out session.

him saying that led you to reach over his body towards his nightstand and tap his phone in order to check the time, “8 am? on a day off school? no way joey or austin would even be able to open their eyes at this time,” you joked about your two older boys. as you both laughed about your sons and their aggressive hostility towards mornings, the sweet little footsteps were beginning to draw near. daniel quickly shushed you when noticing the little outline of feet shadows peeking from underneath the crack of the door.

“princess? are you spying on mommy and daddy?” daniel called out towards said feet. you both then heard the loud echoing of giggles produced by your youngest as your husband made his way to the door. he quickly opened it and scooped her into his arms yelling out a ‘gotcha!’ making her giggle even louder.

you proceeded to get out of bed and head over to where your youngest was now reaching out for you, “hi lovebug, how did you sleep?” you ask her while taking her from your husband's arms and into your own.

“vewy good, mommy,” you and your husband smile at her little mispronunciation and continue to move out of your room and down the stairs. your daughter continues to cuddle into your arms before daniel is itching to get her back.

you always joked that he had separation anxiety from the children due to his persistence to be with them 24/7 whenever he was home. of course, you held sympathy for his situation and let him steal the kids whenever he could. the older two were beginning to be too ‘old’ and ‘cool’ to be with their dad as often but his precious youngest was still attached to his hip. she reached right out for him as he got her out of your grasp.

“miss me, laney?” he asks the young girl.

“of couwse, daddy!” she giggles out and he continues to kiss her all over her face.

“alright, alright both of you children, i need some breakfast orders,” you say with a chuckle as you squeeze behind the both of them in order to get behind your kitchen counter. 

on your way daniel gives you a playful swat to the bum, “oi, darling i can fix breakfast just give me a minute,” 

“don’t even think about it, dan,” you give him a small smile and drop your voice closer to a whisper so only your husband can hear your next line, “the kids have missed you way more than they care to admit, just spend all your time with them i can handle this stuff,”

daniel looks down at you and gives you a fast kiss before hearing another couple pairs of footsteps bellowing down the stairs and into the kitchen. “hello boys,” you smile as your two older sons approach their family. 

“hi momma, hi dad,” austin says through a yawn. austin - ever the mommas boy - then shuffles right over to you and begins to lean into you for a hug. you wrap your arms around him and gesture for joey to join as well to which he does.

daniel stands with his babygirl in his arms and admires the view of his wife and sons. he basks in the feeling of being home with his family, as he attempts to suppress the emotion in his gut of guilt in needing to leave again soon for the next race.

it was a struggle every time he had to leave, he wanted to head back to the days when the children were so young that you and him would bring them everywhere. his family was still together with him, although now it just felt lonely. he debated bringing them with, to hell with school, fuck an education - actually, well, no. they have to go to school, but still maybe a year off they would enjoy, its only middle school? he makes a quick mental note to bring it up later - there was no way he'd last the season without you and your kids by his side.

when he brings himself back to reality, delaney is wiggling out of his arms as the boys are helping you mix up some pancakes. you then let the boys help delaney mix all of the batter as you take a moment to drink in your husband's emotional state. throughout your many years of knowing him and loving him, you were always able to read him like a book.

sauntering over towards daniel, you slowly step in front of him, hands landing gently on his waist in order to bring his focus onto you, “what’s going on in that head of yours, handsome?”

“i really miss you guys when i’m away,” he sighs.

“we miss you too,” you push on gently. daniel rubs one hand over his face as his other leans over your shoulder and around your neck, pulling you closer.

“i’m just still debating if i made the right decision to get back into all of this, i mean lawson is doing really well maybe i should just-” 

“hey, hey, hey - none of that,” you interrupt, “dan we talked about all of this when you accepted the seat. you wanted to do this, you want to do this. racing is your life, if you have an opportunity to do it, you’re taking it and loving it,” 

“i know but i can’t help but feel like it would be so much better here with you and the kids,” he replies while his arm begins to slowly rub gentle circles on your shoulder.

you give his nose a small peck before sighing,”the kids and i have been talking briefly about homeschooling,” with that daniel’s eyes light up and a smile breaks out on his face, “baby don’t tease me,” he laughs. 

you softly turn around to your lively group of children before yelling out, “who here agreed they missed dad and wanted to homeschool for his season?” the kids all swiftly pick their heads up with crazed smiles and began a chorus of ‘i did!’ ‘me! me! me!’ ‘yes meee!’ while you just laughed and daniel stood with a tight grip on you and a beginning line of tears in his waterline.

he quickly shook off his emotions, picking you up and spinning you around while continuing to yell about bags being packed and calling the school to get his kids the hell outta there and with him to brazil. the house began to turn to chaos as all the kids were running around chanting and cheering about no school while daniel made his way over to you.

“now, mister, you know this cannot be a permanent thing. i really want to value some normalcy in our kids lives and education is very important along with their social health-” but your rant was quickly cut off by dan’s searing lips on yours.

“thank you,” he whispered. “always,” you whisper back, “y’know, i missed following you around too,” you giggled into the whisper.

“god, i love you. I love all of you guys so much,” daniel says back.

“trust me honey, we know,” you reassure him. and you did know, all of you. 

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eleven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey, eleven is here!! I can't actually believe it, thank you for all the love on this series! Means a whole lot. Glad to know some of you are enjoying it, love seeing the reactions too:) This update is another long one but we're getting closer to things finally falling into place!

Just a note for this part though, I haven't been to Detroit, nor the place mentioned in this particular chapter so pls don't come for me if anythings wrong! I tried not to go into too much detail and focus on a couple of pictures I found, but lemme know if anything really jumps out.

Also, we finally a Marshall POV, so hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Masterlist

Marshall’s POV

It was maddening. 

The way this woman had gone and switched up his entire life whilst somehow managing to keep everything looking the exact same. As though nothing but her presence had been added, and like nothing had really changed. 

At least not to the unaided eye. 

His mind had been in a tailspin from the second he’d first seen her though, that much he knew. The video of her had knocked him sideways, thrown him so completely out of whack that he couldn’t quite tell if he’d been righted ever since. But it had taken a while for that realisation to set in. 

It had dawned, obviously. He was nothing if not fucking perceptive. His brain wired so oddly that it had him realising shit before most people. But more importantly, it had his constant stream of self-awareness shooting through the roof. 

That in itself was an itch he never could quite scratch, had pissed him off a whole lot growing up too– especially the way he had. It’d gone and really messed with his head in actuality and so the older he’d gotten the more he had started to use all sorts of crap to just find a simple way to tune it out. To dull the constant tick-tick-ticking of his brain. To cope with the never ending thoughts. 

But then he’d gotten sober, hadn't he? And he’d been forced to fucking feel again. To psychoanalyse the years he’d lost, the pain he’d caused. 

It hadn’t been pretty, and yet, he was still standing. Still moving as he attempted to continue putting that same amount of effort into everything else that had been thrown at him ever since.

Her though–

Marshall’s tongue rolled out between his lips thoughtlessly, eyes caught on the studio wall ahead. She was something he hadn’t never prepared for. 

He kept finding himself telling her these– things. Inane shit, like how he preferred running to the gym and candy over fucking chocolate. But then it shifted and he found himself letting slip about the kind of crap that he hardly even let himself linger too long on. Like, Ayla. 

That girl was his world. Stood there right there alongside Z, but he knew he’d messed her up almost as bad as both her parents had. When he hadn’t been able to get his fucking shit together, when she’d be forced to see him at his worst, his lowest. Unable to do nothing but watch. ‘Cause she’d just been a kid then. And he knew that sentiment all too well, had lived through it too. He hadn’t never wanted his own kids to have to go through that, to see the struggle, to experience it and feel that same pain. 

It was the sort of pain that was truly unlike any other and he’d lived too long to not know that by now.

But he’d changed since then and he’d done it all for her. He hadn’t looked back neither, no matter how hard it had gotten, how much he had wanted to quit. ‘Cause he hadn’t wanted his girls to see him that way no longer. To have them stand by and have them do nothing but watch. To have to prepare them for the worst. To have them lose him too. All because he hadn’t been able to just pick them over the one thing he’d abused most. 

Elia. She hadn’t asked. Hadn’t even attempted to worm her way into his head and prod him for all these secrets he held like he was just some piñata and they were the candy inside waiting to spew out. No, he’d given them all to her. Freely. Almost without question. And that there was what scared him most. What fucked him up and messed with his head.

‘Cause that was where he’d gone wrong before, the first dozen times around. Trusting these women with their pretty smiles that hid their deceitful tongues and sugar coated their lies.

It was then that his mind flashed back to late nights years ago that he thought he’d long lost, to blonde hair and smudged lipstick. To some other girl’s bed, her dark eyes and keys to motel rooms. To Vegas and then Nevada, California and New York.

It was with those thoughts that he felt himself frown and raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, wondering why he let himself get so caught up in the past, why he was now allowing himself to think about her the same way he had them. 

They were friends. 

She was here to work.

But that grating voice was in the back of his head again, questioning his fucking questions. His motives. Prodding at his every decision. It knew that he was full of shit. And he knew it too. Didn’t mean he had to like it though. Or admit it.

He scraped his tongue between his front teeth and revelled for a moment in the slight sting which followed, the tiny bumps that arose soon after. Then he huffed. 

She was a question in her own right. That was exactly what she was. He couldn't quite tell what that meant for him though as he found himself picking up his pen for the umpteenth time that night. All he knew was that this shit he’d written was as close to a fucking love song as he would ever fucking get, and he couldn’t stop picturing her the further and further the page got to being completely covered.

What he did know for certain, something he was evidently sure of, was that he was completely and utterly fucked. And it was all down to her.

––––––––––––––––

A knock startled me from the mindless state I’d fallen into whilst sat at the mirror, desk scattered with brushes and makeup alike, and so I only had a split second before the door to my room flew open, allowing a certain blonde to come sailing through, hair in disarray and socks mismatched. 

“Dad’s late!”

I blinked at the whirlwind that was Rosie before a laugh seemed to escape me, and I turned around in the chair just in time to watch the girl faceplant my freshly made sheets. “What do you mean?” I asked her, pushing myself to my feet and wincing at the noise my knees made– I would say that getting old sucked but my knees had been my biggest hater since before my early twenties hit. 

Rosie heaved a dramatic sigh as she manoeuvred around so that she could prop herself up on her elbows and meet my eye, none the wiser to my inner thoughts. “I went downstairs and he wasn’t there, right? But he’s always up and in the kitchen by now, guy drinks too much coffee if you ask me.” She explained, shaking her head at that last part whilst I rounded the bed to peer down at her with a bemused expression, hip pressing against the bedpost, “Anyway, I waited, figuring that he was just, I don’t know, peeing or something. But then I realised I was slowly starving and so I went to look for him.” 

My brows rose at the theatrics as well as the look she’d taken on, but did little to hide my mirthful smirk, “So I’m guessing you found him then?”

“Yup.” She replied with a pop, smiling sweetly, “He’s late.”

“Right.” I snorted, settling my hands on my hips, “That mean he’s up at least?”

The question earned me a somewhat evil grin, one that was far too prideful and full of amusement that it couldn’t have meant anything else. I shook my head at her antics but was unable to help the light chuckle that bubbled up my throat, the sound only seemed to fuel the chaotic energy she’d bounded in with. 

“Can we do something cool with my hair today?” Rosie wondered as she pushed upwards and bounced ever so slightly into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. I was reminded then quite hastily of the conversation Marshall and I had shared the night before when she peered up at me with such an unfiltered expression of excitement. 

I didn’t dare let her down.

So I’d allowed the mini madam to drag me back over to the dressing table I’d just been using and procure me with an array of hair bands, clips, bows, and brushes that she’d brought in with her but left by the door. She ended up talking throughout the whole process, happy to let me work whilst she let slip about the candy bar she’d found to stave herself over with before she’d gone in search of her Dad– something which made complete sense now, given her mood. Afterwards, she then decided that it was an ample time to ask me a thousand and one questions, most of which I tried to answer as best as I could. 

Marshall eventually found the pair of us, still bleary eyed from where he’d been woken only a short while earlier but hair damp enough to note that he’d hurried through his usual morning routine, that and the fact that he’d come in smelling exceptionally pleasant. 

He paused in the door that had since been left open, his stare caught on my languid movements whilst I finished winding the remaining plait I’d started into one of the two space buns which sat atop of his daughter’s head. 

Rosie had yet to notice him, still rambling away so I shot the man an amused smile.

“Heard you had a lie in.” I found myself commenting once I’d snapped the last hair band into place, just in time too, because it was not a second later that Rosie’s head went jolting in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re up!” She exclaimed, exuding her elation in the grin she gave him. 

Full of fondness, Em still let out a scoff as his arms rose to cross over the expanse of his chest, a mindless action that brought me to note the form fitting tee he’d decided on that morning, a total contrast to the large hoodies I was so used to seeing him in. I couldn’t lie to myself about the way my attention caught on his forearms upon seeing it, the tattoos there, the few freckles, the vein that ran down the outer side and across his hand–

My head snapped left when a squeal sounded, dragging my traitorous eyes away from the man and instead to his daughter, who was now beaming in the mirror. My smile wasn’t forced upon witnessing her reaction, even with the freight train full of thoughts that was now rumbling its way around inside my head, and so I wasn’t all too ungrateful for the distraction of the brilliant grin she gifted me with before she was in my arms and hugging me in thanks.

“I love it,” She forced out in one giant breath, before tacking on, “Ana’s going to be so jealous!”

My gaze trailed its way back over to Em, who was looking pensive by the door, he smiled when his eyes flickered up to meet my own. “Looks real good, baby.” He murmured to her, the acknowledgement garnering an even brighter reaction from Rosie, who’s head turned to him at the sound of his voice.

“You like it?” She asked in that way that only daughters could, her eyes full of hope and all puppy-like.

Marshall’s mouth ticked upwards at the sight and he blinked slowly before answering the girl, “You look beautiful.”

Rosie was more than grateful for that answer, not just because it was a nice thing to hear, especially when trying something new, but because it was her Dad who had been the one to say it. She bolted across the room to fall into his side, only ducking away again when one of his hands threatened to come up and settle on the back of her head.

“Watch the hair!”

I laughed brightly at the squeak whilst she ducked under his arm to escape, levelling him with a narrow-eyed glare from the hallway, shaking her head at him. Marshall expelled a long sigh and raised his hands in a show of apology, but Rosie appeared exasperated by him all the same. She still smiled though before she shot off back down the stairs, calling out the reminder of breakfast to him.

Marshall pivoted in his stance, his tired eyes sweeping away from the hall to find me putting away all the few hair bobbles that I hadn’t needed. “I’m raisin’ a prima donna.”

Snorting at the analysis he’d since come to, I shot him a sly smile, “Hear it runs in families.”

I was met by a roll of his eyes, but the smirk he wore was evident. “I own it.” He acknowledged with not an ounce of embarrassment. 

So I dragged out a low hum whilst closing the dresser’s only drawer before I turned to him once again and made my way over. The pair of us exited the room together, Marshall shutting the door behind me before he ran a hand over the top of his head and gestured for us to start down the stairs.

It was as we reached the bottom that he chose to speak up, clearing his throat before he did, “Thanks by the way, for you know. Doin’ her hair and stuff for her. I know you said you would but, she ain’t the only one who appreciates it. You know?”

Glancing his way, my smile couldn’t be helped, not with how unsure and awkward he then looked. A total contrast to the ego he’d radiated not a minute earlier. It wasn’t something I was too used to seeing on Marshall and so it humoured me to no end. 

“I know.” I answered, choosing not to comment on his antsy-ness or the way tense shoulders then slumped a tad, “One less thing to fret about, right? Seein’ as you were snoozing whilst the rest of us were up and prepping for the day.”

Marshall didn’t appear to mind the slight ribbing, or at least I thought so until hip-checked me in the hallway whilst we were wandering after Rosie, the hit just hard enough to have me bumping into the nearby wall. My jaw dropped at the unexpected reaction but was still somehow delighted to hear his laugh trail back to me, watching the way his face lit up as he looked back at me from over his shoulder. 

“You were sayin’?” He mocked around a smug smile.

My glare was counterproductive, seeing as I was huffing out a faint laugh whilst simultaneously trying to right myself before I hurried to catch up to him, only managing to do so a second after he’d swept into the kitchen.

“Hey, seeing as it’s Friday tomorrow, can we take El out again?” Came Rosie’s voice, the sound of it drawing my attention over to where she was now pouring a bowl of cereal. Her eyes were stuck on the task at hand but they flickered up to where Em was standing by the fridge whilst she waited for an answer.

Marshall’s own gaze wandered over to me for a split second, roaming over my face before his attention jumped to the milk he had grasped. “Up to her, Z.”

And that, my friends, was an exuberant yes in the jam-packed book that cited Marshall’s lexicon.

“What d’you have in mind?” I wondered as I made my way past the girl to fill up the kettle that had since settled into its very own spot on the kitchen side.

“Some food, a movie maybe?” Z delicately suggested, eyes jumping over to Marshall again, the man slid the milk carton he held into her hand, before they moved to meet mine. 

Shrugging softly, I smiled at the idea, reminded of days I’d spent in the cinema near the old flat we’d lived in, the same one I’d snuck into countless times as a kid and then had taken Danny and Lottie to whenever home had gotten too much to handle. “Sounds good to me, your Dad has the last say though.” I quickly reminded her after seeing the way her face had lit up.

“Can we, Dad?” Rosie asked excitedly, her voice full of elated anticipation, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for the final yes.

Em exhaled, his blue eyes trailing between Z and I, allowing me to notice how the morning sun caused them to appear almost transparent in the light of the kitchen. But it was all for show, because it was too obvious what his answer was going to be. 

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

Hiding my triumphant grin, I turned back to the whistling kettle and filled two mugs, not even second guessing the action.

…

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Heya bug, msg me when you get out of school, wanna hear about your day! xX

…

Even with Marshall waking up late and Rosie’s evident sugar rush, the school run hadn’t been as chaotic as I’d expected it to be. We managed to make it there in time, in fact we had just a minute to spare which Rosie used to lean over the centre console wedged between the two front seats so that she could give Marshall and I a goodbye.

“See you guys after school.” She grinned whilst letting her Dad wrap an arm awkwardly around her shoulders so that he could press a kiss to her temple. She withdrew a tad from him afterwards, his hand shucking her chin in a gesture that was all too familiar, and then turned to mimic the previous action on me, a quick peck to my left cheek before she was falling back into the rear seat and opening the passenger side door. 

The action startled me enough that I could only watch her grin grow from where she then settled on the pavement outside, waving the two of us goodbye through the window before she bolted up the school steps.

I watched on, dazed but filled with a heavy warmth as she disappeared from view.

It was when I’d finally managed to drag my eyes away from the stone stairs that Marshall broke the quiet that had filled the car with an exaggerated “Ooohh.” 

There was a shit-eating grin plastered over the lower half of his face, the biggest he’d ever given me and it only added to the mix of emotions I was experiencing. “How’s that feel? You done levelled up!” He prompted, clapping his hands as a laugh expelled from him, thoroughly amused by my stunned reaction.

I blinked, but then found myself chuckling along with him, smiling widely as I attempted a little bow, only made awkward by the strap of my seatbelt. Em enjoyed it all the same though, especially when I replied to his dramatics with some of my own, “No, no! You’ve gotta take a picture real quick, this feels like a monumental moment.” Half joking, half serious.

He was quick with his phone anyway, pulling it out and flicking to the camera app so fast that it surprised me, what with being so used to his common annoyance with all things technology. He was still grinning away as he raised the phone a little higher and it took me a second to realise he was filming me instead of taking the picture I’d asked for.

“How you feel?” Marshall asked, his voice still buoyant, the smile he wore evident in it. It just melted me further, in truth. To know how happy his daughter's action had made not just me, but him too. 

“Loved.” I smiled back at him, eyes squinting with the strength of it as I peered into the lens.

“Someone alert the media!” Em crowed, the sound thoughtless and open, before he was leaning in over the console, wanting to get a close up of the cheek in question. I was blinded by the smile he still wore, catching glimpses of it behind his phone and arm, “You ever gone wash that shit again?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me in return before I closed my eyes and flicked my hair over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare! This has to top my night at the Grammys.” I overemphasised for the sake of the camera, glancing back at Marshall a second later so that we could both share another grin, him lowering the camera ever so slightly so that he could spin it back ‘round on him.

“Well, you heard it here first, folks. Tune in later to see if Z will up the ante!” He cheesed, putting on a voice that had me giggling harder before he was pausing the video and peering back at me with a sincere grin. 

“You one lucky girl, I swear.” He mentioned to me in a murmur, shaking his head whilst I dragged my own phone out of my coat pocket, raising it to capture my own version of the moment. “What you doin’?” He questioned me once he spotted it, but I had already pulled up Snapchat to zoom in and capture a quick photo. 

Em watched on as my thumbs typed away, writing a quick ‘Never washing this cheek again #Priorities’ over the top of the picture before saving it to my camera roll. It was just as I went to click off the app completely that he stopped me.

“You not gone post that?”

I turned to him with a look of bewilderment, eyes wide and eyebrows practically touching my hairline. “Are you crazy? That’ll spark all sorts of rumours.”

He just snorted, then levelled me with a simple shrug, cheek lolling against the headrest. “Fuck ‘em.”

It took me a moment to realise that he was being deadly serious. 

In reply to the silence he’d been met with, Marshall merely quirked a brow at me, almost as if he was challenging it. Daring me to follow through.

I stared at him for a long second before I let my thumb hover over the ‘Send to’ button, giving him the time needed to take it back. But he didn’t.

Thinking it over, I figured the most people could come up with ammo like this was that I’d likely been kissed or was just messing around with a friend about something, which wasn’t all that unusual for me, in truth. I had taken to posting all of the weird shit I saw when I was out every once in a while, as well as the odd picture with Lottie or a friend. So I didn’t think people would put too much thought into it.

Besides, I’d never been the type to back down from a challenge, so I added it to my story as quick as I could and then clicked the phone off entirely.

I tried to bite back the strength of my grin when I looked back over at him, but it truly was hard going, what with the way Em had given up on hiding his own. Still, I watched on as he put the car into gear and relaxed further into my seat as we pulled away from the curb, trying not to pay mind to the excitement which fluttered in my stomach.

“So where we headed?” I wondered after a minute or so, the radio playing low, Marshall nodding his head along to it.

He turned to spare me a glance, smirking now. “Tour of Detroit, baby.”

My brow furrowed on its own accord, thoroughly confused, and Marshall must have been able to read my mind because he let go of a breathy chuckle before he explained further.

“Gotta show you the whole city whilst you're here, right? I mean, you seen where I grew up, but there’s a whole lot more. Figure you’d appreciate it.”

Eyes wide, I felt my mouth drop open a tad and a flash of panic shoot through me. “You’re serious? We’ll get spotted quicker than a priest in a playground!”

My words were met by a short snort before Marshall shook his head, deigning not to touch upon that particular phrasing. “Came prepared.”

“Oh really?” I challenged. 

His mouth quirked to one side, deepening the dimple which sat adjacent to it. My eyes latched onto the small detail and before I knew it we were pulling off into a lot a couple of blocks away from Rosie’s school. 

Once the car had come to a stop, Em was quick to hop out so that he could make his way to the boot. He pulled something or other out, before he closed it once more and jogged back around to the driver's side door. He slipped inside with ease, carrying an array of items in his arms. I noted that he really had come prepared.

In his lap sat three hats and a hoodie. I guessed that he wanted to give me my pick of the lot and I wasn’t let down in the assumption, he handed me the hoodie first, one that felt as luxurious as it looked, and I peered down at it cautiously, but didn’t fight putting it on. 

“Don’t tell me how much this hoodie costs because if I ruin it, then that’s on you.” I told him bluntly as I peeled my coat off and pulled my head through the hoods opening. He snorted in retort and it was only when I’d rolled my hands through the sleeves that he reached out to drag the strings of the jumper into place, smiling at me in a way that made my mouth go dry. 

“Live a little.” Were the words he settled on before his attention shifted back down to the three hats he held, my eyes scanned over them.

“As much as I think the beanie suits you, you’ve gotta go with a cap to cover up all this.” I told him honestly, waving my hand over the expanse of his money-maker before I reached out to take the red and blue beanie. 

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” Em asked and I realised a second too late how teasing his tone had been.

“You know, the cap will help–”

“No, no, no, you know I was talkin’ ‘bout the beanie.” He reaffirmed, smile sly as he turned to use it on me.

I blinked, thinking back on what I’d said before it hit me. I felt myself flush a tad, but did my best to brush the comment off like it was nothing, “You look good in a beanie, is all. Most people do.”

Marshall blew out another laugh, it almost seemed to fill the car, even more so as he leaned an arm against the centre console to lessen the space between us. “This your way of sayin’ you’re hot on me then?”

I scowled, reaching out to press my palm against the side of his cheek so that I could push his smirking face away. “You wish.”

He snorted, eyeing the way I pulled down the car’s interior mirror so that I could fit the beanie to my head. When I turned back towards him, I was surprised to catch him already staring. He didn’t look perturbed by it though, no, he simply smirked, “Beanie suits you, too.”

Thankfully, he left it at that, picking up one of the remaining caps and placing it on his own head before he tossed the last of the three into the back. It was as he resettled in his seat that I found myself moving to fix the cap’s brim, tugging it a millimetre or so lower and centring it so that the Lion’s logo faced frontwards. 

My breath caught when I finally registered what I’d done so mindlessly, but Marshall didn’t appear to have minded it, watching me as I withdrew, his eyes caught on mine for a long second before he finally broke the moment, “Thanks.”

I cleared my throat and forced my gaze into looking out the front window, only nodding in answer. He started up the car again and it was as we set off that I struggled to find a new topic to break the quiet with. 

It wasn’t awkward, this quiet. Just prolonged, filled with an energy I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I didn’t know if Marshall even felt it but as soon as I spoke, I was grateful to feel it ebb. “You know, I love American cars.”

A line formed in the skin between Em’s brows when he chanced a quick look at me, “How come?” He wondered and it was with his words that I felt the rest of my body relax once more into the comfort of his leather seats.

Still, I shrugged lightly, gaze wandering over the car’s interior before it shifted out over the long stretch of road we’d since pulled onto, eyes jumping between the other vehicles that surrounded us. “Just bigger, used to dream about driving one of those old Fords when I were a kid.” I explained, thinking back to the ones I’d seen on the tele. “You know, they used to drive them in those older films, back in the 80’s and stuff.”

“What, like a Bronco?”

“No– well actually, those would be sick as well.” I mentioned, thinking about it before I gently shook my head, “But you know, one of those old four by fours? The big ones you see a lot of country boys driving.”

Em’s smile twitched in good humour when he shot me a knowing look, “Ah, so she’s inta dem country boys.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated by the accent he’d slathered on but laughing still. “No, you idiot. I just like the trucks!” But then I had to pause and actually think about it, “Now you mention it though, those country boys weren’t all that bad to look at either.”

Marshall snorted, then hummed, “You know, I’m originally from cow country. Midwest way.”

Pensive, I let my gaze roam back towards him. “I figured you’d always lived here.”

He just shook his head, looking in his mirror before he switched lanes, “Moved when I was a kid, but was born in Missouri if you can believe that shit.”

I was unable to help my smile, oddly surprised to know that small fact about him. I shifted slightly in my seat to look him over better, almost as though now that I knew of the detail I’d actually be able to see it in him. 

“I don’t know much about it.” I admitted once nothing about him really changed or jumped out at me, “Is it like farmy?”

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes again, though I could tell that it was in fond amusement rather than anything else. “It’s like any state, idiot. There’s cities, but yeah some fields too.”

Humming, I tried to picture him in some place like that. As much as Em fit into the life and soul that clung to Detroit and its streets, I could easily see him settling into a quaint house out by a bayou, miles away from any prying eyes and noise. 

“What’s the hum for?” He wondered, eyes trying to analyse the sound by the tells my face gave away.

I shot him a smile, “Nothing.”

He didn’t believe me, not for a second, but let it go seeing as we had pulled into a parking lot. I sat up further to look around, trying to spot a clue as to where we were at, my eyes widened when I found it. 

Belle Isle Aquarium.

I honestly attempted to not look too excited by the sudden prospect, but I’m not sure I managed it all that well. There was a time, when I’d still been little enough to not know any better, that I thought I could grow up to be a deep-sea diver, so fascinated by the ocean and its entirety. At break time, I would read all the books the school’s library had to offer on the sea and its many creatures, overwhelmed by the fact that it was so large and deep that we had only ever really touched the surface, that there was still so much there left to discover. 

I didn’t ever really mention it nowadays, but there were still nights where I fell asleep watching the odd documentary on the ocean, about the sharks that lived there or the reefs that hid beneath the water. I wondered briefly if Marshall knew, if I’d ever mentioned it in passing, but then brushed the thought away, figuring it to just be a coincidence.

The car rattled with the slight slam of the doors and it took me a second to figure out that I’d already stepped out to join Em by the curb. He was watching my reaction, it seemed, or waiting for it, I wasn’t quite sure, but all the same, I turned to him with a bright smile. “We’re going in?”

His smile was small but genuine, eyes hidden by the rim of his cap as he looked back over at the aquarium's entrance. Seeing the few people that were headed in and out, I figured he was probably scanning to see how we could slip inside unseen.

I sidled up beside him, watching too. “Do we have to get tickets?”

He shook his head, arm brushing against mine as he waved his phone in a gesture that told me he’d already planned ahead. I had to wrinkle my lips to keep from grinning too hard at the realisation. 

We stuck close together as we made our way inside, thankful for the lack of queue that allowed Em to flash a quick email to an older woman stood waiting at the entrance before we stepped inside. 

The first row of tanks we saw were illuminated all around us and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting we’d walked into they soon set intently on the glowing water held within them. There was a flurry of movement throughout and I was quick to step on closer, tracking the many fish that swam by, some brightly coloured, others almost mimicking the colour of the tanks floor.

I didn’t recognize all of the specific kinds I could see but I didn’t dare deny that they were all beautiful. It was almost mesmerising the way they all swam together and then apart, their actions thoughtless, simple. 

A little way down I spotted a group of kids, no older than about six or seven, and found myself relating to the way they pressed their little faces up against the glass, like they were waiting to sink through it and live amongst the marine life, to revel in that same simplicity. 

I felt Marshall slide into the space beside me and looked up to capture the way his eyes traced the zooming fish, before they soon settled on me. “Good idea?”

I blew out a breath, smiling. “The best.”

I gave up on trying to hide my excitement with that, reaching out to press my fingers to the glass, revelling in the few fish that came up to inspect the intrusion, mouths twitching ever so before they were darting off again. I laughed quietly to myself and then let my feet lead me further through the room.

I jumped from tank to tank, dragging Marshall along with me, not thinking as I grabbed his hand and pointed out all of the things that captured my attention. When we finally stopped by a wall full of guppies, I rattled off a fact without even noticing, eyes so caught on the tails that passed us by.

“So if they don’t have vocal chords, how do they make noises?” Em questioned me, his face screwed up in a confused grimace.

“They use low-pitched sounds to convey messages to each other, like rattling their bones or gnashing their teeth. They also use their bodies, vibrate their muscles against their swim bladder to mate or be territorial.” I answered him, eyes caught on the rapid array of colours. 

“The fuck’s a swim bladder?” 

His muttered question caught me by surprise and all I could do was laugh as I pulled him away from the crowd that had looked over at the unexpected sound. We ended up over by the blobfishes after that, something Em actually seemed engrossed by and the surrounding groups tried to avoid. 

“What about these fuckers?” He queried, leaning over to get a better look at the plaque that housed a picture of what most people believed a blobfish to look like. 

“They’re strange, it’s the pressure of the deep sea that provides them with their structural support.” I told him, bending down to join him in his stance before I peered into the tank. “They have little amounts of muscle and their bones are quite soft so that they’re able to live in high pressure conditions. When they’re brought to the surface though, they decompress. That’s why they look so different.”

“I relate, man.” Marshall mentioned to the nearest fish which clung to the tank’s floor. It made me giggle, though I couldn’t deny his words, Em seemed to thrive in high pressure scenarios much like the blobfish.

The further we walked, trailing through the large glass greenhouses the aquarium had to offer, taking in their shrubbery and vast amounts of evergreen, the more and more I wished that I lived in Detroit, knowing that if I did, I’d be here almost every weekend. It was beyond beautiful, made even more so by the blue sky above and the water which surrounded us.

Out of all the creatures the place had to offer, Em quite liked looking at the seahorses and made a show of rattling off the facts the aquarium offered in a mocking manner that made me realise how obnoxious I must’ve been.

“Sorry.” I offered sheepishly, chuckling in an attempt to hide the self-consciousness which had crept in, “I get carried away sometimes, but just tell me to shut up and you know I will.”

He practically froze at that, caught mid motion, but his stare was still stuck on me. My eyes flickered back and forth between his own and so when he finally exhaled I was witness to the way he quickly shook his head in retort, startling me slightly when he decided to drape an arm over my shoulders and tug me into his side. 

I did my best to turn my attention to the tank full of seahorses, even as he pressed chin to the side of my head and murmured into my hair, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I nodded to let him know I’d heard, but didn’t trust myself to answer, anxious about how it might sound. Cursing myself for not realising that he’d only been teasing, not mocking.

“Mean it.” He emphasised, and I could feel the gravel of his voice just by my ear, the grate of it erupting goosebumps down the side of my neck. “I like how much you like fish.”

Scoffing around a light chuckle, I swatted his lower stomach in retaliation, glad to be back on common ground. “I find them interesting, you dick.”

He hummed thoughtfully and I held my breath as the sound vibrated down my spine, “Tell me more.” 

I did narrow my eyes at the demand, peering up at him to see if he was teasing again, but no. Marshall appeared as sincere in his ask as he had been with everything else this week. I licked at my lower lip, then turned back towards the tank, my voice soft as I regaled another fact off the top of my head. 

“They’re really bad swimmers, slowest kinds of fish, too. They have to use their tails to hold onto things so that the current doesn’t sweep them away, but they’re also the only fish that can swim upright.” I rambled, the weight of his arm on my shoulders allowing me to slump a little further into his side, the earlier anxiety melting away. “Seahorses don’t chew either, or have stomachs. They just disintegrate their food by sucking it in really forcefully.”

“Sounds like an ex I had.” Em quipped with a vague huff, before he turned more curious, “How’d they eat then? Gotta eat to shit, no?”

Shaking my head in exasperated amusement, I told him about their inefficient digestive systems and how much they have to eat a day to stay healthy. “They’re also monogamous.” I mentioned, tilting my head to the side to watch as a couple of seahorses floated closer.

“I see. These players ain’t fuckin’ round, know they only gotta worry about one psycho baby momma.” Marshall said and I felt him dip his head in a show of appreciation.

I had to snort at his stupidity, “You never heard that it’s the males that get pregnant?”

Marshall actually pulled away at that, hand coming to rest on the small of my back whilst his eyes blinked back at me, now wide enough that I could properly see them beneath the brim of his cap. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

With a teasing smile, I reached out to pat at his stomach, “Bet you’d look so good, Marsh. Imagine the pregnancy shoot we could have for you! Paint your belly the colours of the Detroit Lions and everything!”

He slapped my hand away with a tut and slight shake of his head, but he was grinning even as I struggled to stop my laughter. 

It was as we walked away from the seahorses that Marshall ended up looping his arm over my shoulders once more, leading us through another brick archway in my favourite shade of green. We didn’t have to travel far before my feet rooted themselves to the ground, forcing Em into a halt too.

It was only when he glanced over to see the roundness my eyes had taken on that he caught on and chuckled.

Honestly though, it felt as though my lungs had forgotten how to function at the sight I'd been met with. “Those are sharks.”

“Astute assumption there, Darwin.”

“Sharks, Marshall.” I felt the need to reiterate, somehow managing to drag my eyes away from the extraordinary view to spare him a dazed glance. 

Only, I was taken back by the smile he adorned, it was one I’d yet to see. All goofy and childlike, as though he was truly enjoying himself and not thinking about anything else. But he wasn’t watching the sharks, nor the tank. No, his full focus seemed to be honed in on me.

He laughed, only strengthening that smile he wore, and the sight did something to my heart.

“What kind are they?” He asked me, continuing to chuckle quietly as he led us over to a corner of the glass that was free, most of the other observers crowding around the middle in hopes to lure one of the animals closer.

“Maybe a tigershark?” I offered, the two of us subconsciously stepping closer to watch as one of the smaller sharks swam close enough to flash us his underbelly. “Yeah, that definitely was.” I breathed out, blinking when I spotted Marshall’s face in the reflection, the way he was watching the water with a certain amount of reverence. 

“Damn.” He muttered when it swam past us again, tilting his head up to see past the brim of his hat. I watched him for a long moment then, the way the tank lit up his eyes, deepened them too, whilst lengthening his already long lashes. “I know a couple things about sharks, you know.” He offered and didn’t seem all that surprised when he looked over to see me already watching him, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed. 

“Yeah?” I whispered, prompting him on.

“They don’t have bones, right?” He started and at my nod, he smiled and continued, eyes flickering back and forth between the tank and me, “They’re made up of cartilage. Helps them to stay afloat ‘cause it's lighter than bone.”

I hummed in acknowledgement, grinning as one of the sharks swam over the rocky ground by my hand. Em reached out and put his fingers to the glass, breathing in sharply when the shark knocked its side against it.

“What else?” I asked softly, already so invested in hearing what he had to say.

“Their teeth,” He began, stare caught on the same shark that seemed to be circling its way back around, “They come in rows, so when one gets loosened or breaks they jus’ get rid of it and the one from the row behind moves forward.” He told me, pulling me in closer so that we could both press our palms to the glass, “Know that our teeth are actually a lot stronger than theirs too, ‘cause theirs don’t have no roots, they’re jus’ constantly sheddin’ them.”

“I didn’t know that.” I admitted gently, before I was chuckling at the same shark that nudged against the glass, right over the tops of our hands, “Wow.” 

“Yeah, wow.” I heard Marshall breathe in response, the pair of us utterly taken by the creatures.

…

In truth, we were both still in an odd sort of trance even as we wandered back out of the aquarium, only having decided to leave after a few people had started to glance over at us, murmurs starting.

I didn’t mind it all that much, having been grateful for the time we’d managed to lose track of inside, but Em had been quiet as we’d exited, having kept his head down the whole way out. 

By the time we got outside, the sun had just passed its midway mark in the sky and my stomach grumbled lightly. It was that which seemed to knock Marshall out of his solemn trance and he smirked as we approached the car again. 

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him off over the hood as I climbed in, earning myself a chuckle before he followed after me.

“Where you wanna eat?” Marshall quizzed as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car up, “Figured we might be able to get somethin’ here, but then people started takin’ notice.” His face fell into an odd sort of grimace at the reminder, but I waved it off, looking over at the aquarium one last time as we pulled out of the parking space. 

“It’s fine, I’m just really glad we got to go. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a while.” I told him honestly, letting go of another breath just thinking about it. 

It had been unlike anything else I’d seen. In truth, I didn’t think anyone had taken me anywhere so incredible. Sure, I had travelled the globe and seen the sea for myself, but it was completely different getting to just wander around beneath it all, to be able to look and just linger. 

Ultimately, the visit had meant a lot to me, I just wasn’t sure if Em had come to that same conclusion yet. 

“Yeah, me neither.” He said after a moment and I was taken back by the quick smile he gifted me with it. Before I had a chance to question it though, as well as everything else the trip had thrown at me, Em was handing me his phone.

My brow pinched when I glanced down at it, but still, I took it from his hand, figuring he’d ask me to grab his charger for him or something. “Look through the pictures, see which ones you like.” He said instead, catching me off guard.

“Uh, okay.” I replied, not having expected that but I guessed he must have managed to snap a couple photos of the sea life whilst I hadn’t been looking.

I turned the phone on and before I could even ask, Marshall was already rattling his passcode off to me, something I didn’t trust most with. I nodded anyway and quickly typed it in, smiling at the wallpaper which greeted me, a picture of him with Ayla and Z, before I then moved to click into his camera roll. 

There were enough photos of the aquarium, it seemed, for them to have covered the first few visible rows of his library and so I pressed on the last one and decided to scroll through.

Only, my earlier surprise grew larger and larger the further I swiped through them all. I’d been right in assuming that Marshall had captured quite a few shots of the fishes as well as a couple other creatures, but a majority of them were of me. Me standing by the jellyfish tanks. Me under one of the greenhouse domes, just the right amount of sunlight beaming in from above to make me appear almost angelic. Me grinning at a school of clownfish, nose practically touching the glass. Me stood over one of the open enclosures, marvelling at the stingray swimming beneath the surface.

There were dozens. Including one of me stood amongst the sharks with a slack jaw. That one made me chuckle, even as embarrassed as I felt, but then I swiped onto the next photo and my breath caught in the back of my throat.

It was of Rosie and I, the two of us sprawled out on the sofa, my hand in her hair, hers wrapped loosely around my ankle. It had so obviously been taken the night before when we’d all been watching that film and I was eager to take in every detail I could. 

I swiped again, intrigued now, and smiled at the following picture I was met with. 

Marshall caught my eye first, he was holding up the camera with one hand and was wearing that Kangol hat of his, chin titled ever so slightly towards the lens. His eyes were shadowed by the cap but the sun was still just high enough in the sky to have casted a warm glow over the rest of his skin. 

My gaze flickered over to it setting in the background, colouring the typical blue a blazing orange, but it was there that I also spotted Rosie and I stood by the roundabout. Her smile was big enough that it stood out even from a distance, but the camera only really picked up my side profile as I spun her around.

I guessed that he must have taken it that first day I arrived, when Rosie had talked us all into going to the park. I wondered if he’d let me have a copy.

Daring to swipe once more I didn’t expect to find what came next.

It was from outside the diner. The same one we’d visited days ago now, where Marcie worked and where Em and I had fought over the bill. The very same diner he’d admitted to being somewhat of a tradition for him and Rosie, a tradition he’d let me in on from the get-go.

He was obviously stood outside in the lot, the shop’s sign flickering in the top corner, but if you peered through the closed door you could once again see Rosie and I, and without thought a smile sprung to my lips, remembering the exact moment Marshall had snapped this picture because it was taken just as Rosie and I finished our pinky promise. You could see it so clearly, the smiles we both bared, the tangle of our hands, how I’d leaned in to level with her.

It actually stunned me to be quite honest. The fact that he’d managed to capture that very moment. How he’d also hidden his little selfie of the three of us at the park. And again last night, prompting me to wonder where he’d found the moment to sneak a photo without Rosie or me realising it. That, as well as the dozens of pictures he’d taken at the aquarium. 

I’d had my picture taken too many times to count. I couldn’t lie about that. It was one of the many consequences of fame. But never had I ever had a person do what Marshall had done, he’d made me feel like a main focus instead of just a topic, whilst somehow also managing to make me feel included, cared for, lov–

I paused that singular thought and reeled back.

Danny had gone through a phase of taking photos as a kid, but he’d been more invested in nature, the surroundings that he didn’t have to answer back to. Whenever he’d taken pictures of us, it had always been as a family and so it wasn’t too hard to spot all the wrongs there. The booze in the background, the joint in Mum’s mouth, our thin frames. I’d never been too fond of them.

Lottie on the other hand, now she was a part of this generation that lived and thrived off of selfies, so whatever photos there were of the two of us, it was usually always of her looking perfect by the lens and me a seeming little dazed in the background, having just been told to pose and given no time to understand what was going on.

These photos though. They made me feel seen.

They made me feel– just a whole lot.

“Any good ones?” Marshall’s voice cut into my thoughts. My head snapped over to him just in time to catch his gaze before it trailed back over to the road. My eyes lingered on him for a second too long and as a return for all those pictures he’d gotten of me, I raised the phone and snapped a secret photo of him. The afternoon sun was rolling in from the distance and it perfectly illuminated the side of his face. 

I blew out a long breath and smiled over at him. “Yeah,” I said somewhat breathlessly, “They’re perfect.”

[ily-tomura]

“It’s not easy to talk about, but…”

Autistic!Tomura Shigaraki, QPR, GN!Reader, Discussions of Pain

The whole time you’ve known him, you’d never describe Tomura as someone who really complains. He’ll frustratedly talk about games levels that he’s stuck on or how hot it is, any little thing that doesn’t really matter, but if something is really, genuinely bothering him, he keeps it to himself.

It’s really hard for him to talk about the things that bother him, especially if the kind of help he needs is something he’d have to talk to a stranger about. You understand that he’s had a rough time with professionals, so you’ve never pushed him on it.

You were getting started on breakfast when he says he wants to talk to you sometime about something important. “It doesn’t have to be now, or even today, but just…. Sometime. Is that okay?” He’s clearly very nervous bringing it up, and you can tell it’s important to him. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but that’s not unusual for him.

It ends up being almost a week later when Tomura approaches you again to finally sit down and talk. He fidgets with his phone, likely with notes of what he wants to say. He takes a deep breath before he starts.

“It’s not easy to talk about, but I don’t want to be in pain anymore… I just don’t know how not to be…”

You sit quietly, just listening to him talk for the longest time. He’s done a lot of reading and tried to figure out what’s been happening to his skin his whole life on his own but he just can’t do it. He’s tried soothing creams, numbing creams, anti-inflammatory gels, everything, anything, but they just makes it hurt more or make it hurt differently. He’s tired. Tired of waking up in the middle of the night unable to stop scratching. He tried wearing gloves to bed, he’s tried trimming his fingernails super short, he’s tried anything he could think of. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t causing open scratches all over his body all the time.

“It’s hard to take care of a body that burns and bleeds when you’re just trying to clean and care for it.” Tomura says, kneading the bottom hem of his hoodie with his hands.

There are the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes as he’s clearly frustrated and embarrassed at not being able to solve it on his own.

Eventually he gets quiet, and lays back. He takes a breath, before continuing. “I don’t even know if it’s a real itch at this point. I’ve thought about it being some kind of nervous tic, or compulsive behavior, maybe a mix of a few things, I’m just….”

The tears roll down the side of his face, but he wipes them on his hoodie sleeve.

“… I don’t want everything to hurt anymore.”

You ask if you can give him a hug, and he says yes. He sits up so you can wrap you arms around him for a moment. That seems to help soothe him, if only a bit.

It’s definitely a long road ahead, but you tell him that you can help advocate for him and be there to support him if he wants to find someone to talk to about these kinds of problems. He looks nervous at that, but you assure him that you can start as small as he needs to. He visibly relaxes, laying back down. He looks up at you, and pats for you to lie down next to him.

You lie back with him, just sitting there in silence for a little while. You know it’s not a lot, but just having you in his corner seems to make his whole disposition a little more hopeful.

[dawn-moths]

Tomura x Reader

word count: 1,300+

(You tend to Tomura’s dry, cracked hands and itchy skin while the two of you watch a movie.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! just a lil sfw drabble in honor of tomura’s birthday. also reader has a technology/hacking quirk. enjoy!

The light from the television cast the room in a pale glow, muted colors shifting from blue to green and back to blue again as the scene of the movie oscillated between the perspective of the two main characters— the protagonist and antagonist about to come to a head.

Tomura was enraptured, unable to tear his unblinking gaze from the screen as the tense music began to pick up speed, the cuts between the two opposing sides getting faster and faster until they met on the same ground, the final fight about to build to a crescendo.

You, however, were currently focused on something much more important than a dramatic psychological thriller you’d already seen a million times.

Because, being carefully massaged between your soft little hands was one of Tomura’s big, rough palms, the skin cracked and flaking with irritation.

“Tomu…” you murmured, sort of with a concerned, sympathetic coo. “I told you… you don’t need to wait until they’re this bad to come to me. I can do it nightly, I don’t mind.”

All he gave in response was a simple hum and a barely detectable nod. You felt his hand tense slightly in yours as the fight took a turn and the villain got the upper hand. You knew that’s who he was rooting for, though, unfortunately, very few films ended with the bad guys winning in the end.

You continued to work the first layer of lotion into one of his hands, then reached over to grab the other from his lap, giving it the same treatment. It was a thin, lightweight hand cream that, for you, normally did the trick. In the colder months, maybe you would have to reapply it two or three times a day, at most, but for Tomura, you’d gathered every lotion, cream, and salve within your moisturizing arsenal to treat him with.

All it took was one look at his hands to know it was going to be a lengthy process.

“Just tell me if any of it starts to burn or sting,” you instructed him, finishing with his left hand and retaking up the right one where, just as you’d thought, the first layer of lotion had already soaked all the way in and left his hand still feeling dry, albeit slightly less rough. “And if you notice any unusual redness by tomorrow you need to—”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He appreciated your help, truly he did, but he wasn’t used to having someone fuss over him like this. The care you offered was still a foreign thing to him.

He remedied the harsher edges of his voice then by looking over and giving a small grin, chapped lips beseeching of your attention as well. Lightly squeezing your hand in his, he said, “I’ll let you know.”

That seemed to placate you, for the time being at least, and you resumed your work tending to his hands.

“You better…” you muttered with a crooked grin.

Now moving onto the second layer, you flipped open the cap of a thicker, slightly stronger eczema cream. It would help lock the moisture in better than the surface layer that you’d just finished applying. It was your favorite for whenever you, yourself, encountered any stubborn dry patches on your own skin. A few days of this stuff and your ailment would disappear. You figured it would take a few weeks to have even half the effect on Tomura, though, it wasn’t so much the appearance of his skin that concerned you. It was more so how the constant itching sensation affected him.

It was painful, you could tell. It showed in the way he flinched and hissed and scratched himself raw, carving new scars over old ones. It hurt you to watch him hurting, so whatever you could do to help him feel more comfortable in his own skin, you were more than willing to try.

“Ah, man…” you heard Tomura grumble, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “They always let the heroes win. So predicable…”

He turned his attention away from the movie— there was only about ten minutes left now anyway— and instead decided to focus more on you now.

“What’s this one do?” He half-mockingly, half-curiosity inquired, plucking up step three of your six step lotion lineup for the night. He narrowed his eyes as he read the packaging, smirk widening as he asked with a bit of a chuckle, “And what the fuck is colloidal oatmeal?”

You swiped it from his grasp, motioning for him to give you back his hand.

“It helps your skin!” was all you could offer in defense. And then, before he could tease you any further, you said, “Now stop stalling and sit still.”

To humor you, Tomura complied, though the way his entire body relaxed the more you lulled him with the soothing circles you massaged into his hand spoke to just how much he’d needed this. Craved it. He never asked for it himself, but whenever you told him to sit down and let you tend to him, he never tried to argue.

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to do some research,” you eventually admitted, “and I think I might’ve found a few products that could really give you some relief in the long term. They’re pricey but…”

“Well,” Tomura shrugged. “That’s what shoplifting was invented for.”

At that, you gave a gentle chuckle. “Well, some of these things are prescription only…” You shot him a coy glance. “Which is why I’ve also been researching how to commit prescription fraud.”

“Ah,” he replied, perking with sarcasm. “Glad to see your robbery skills are leveling up.”

You let out another laugh, opened the cap to the next ointment. “Forging medical documents might be the boss battle,” you joked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, something in his expression softening then. “But if anyone can beat it, it’s gonna be you.”

You felt yourself warming to his praise. You were his favorite little hacker, after all, your quirk allowing you to enter into any kind of technology— the internet included— and navigate through it as if it were a physical space, your consciousness traveling into the coding and giving you the ability to alter things, to fidget with and rearrange the contents like they were items on a shelf or paintings on a wall.

By now, you were nearing the end of your moisturizing process, a pile of previous lotions, potions, oils, and hand creams collecting on your side of the couch.

“How does it feel?” you asked him. He hadn’t complained about any discomfort, but you still wanted to make sure.

“Mm, pretty good, I think,” he answered. Though, what he really liked most about these exchanges wasn’t necessarily the effect it had on his skin, but rather getting to have your full attention, privately, away from the other members of the League.

He liked how meticulously you tended to his hands, making sure to get every inch from fingertips to wrists.

He liked how you touched him with such gentle care, dare it be compared to love.

“Good,” you smiled, interlocking your fingers with his as soon as you were done. After these sessions, your palms were even softer than they'd been at the start.

You snuggled against his shoulder, resting your head against it even though it was a bit boney. His hand grasped yours just a little tighter, a silent plea for you to stay here, like this, with him, for just a while longer.

“Thank you…” Tomura eventually muttered, sounding halfway to dozing off. You were starting to drift too, so you almost missed it. But once it registered to you you grinned, softly nuzzling against him.

“Anytime,” you murmured.

Anytime.

[nsfwrpg]

Thaiphoon

KISS OF LIFE's Natty x Male Reader

Quickie, Unedited

You step out of the makeshift dressing room that they made for your girlfriend and in no time you're blinded by the flashing lights that go off. She is currently in the middle of a photoshoot for her "debut" teasers. She already debuted solo, but after that contract ended she signed with a different agency and now the plans are set in stone for her "debut" this time in a girl group.

You see her posing as if she's a natural, giving the camera quite a show that only you have ever seen her do when she's working. She's been through a lot this past year alone, so seeing her work again just brings a smile to your face as she's back doing the job she loves. Though you loved the long hiatus she had and spent almost every day with you, you felt that she had to go for this opportunity once it was offered to her.

Here you are, watching on the side while your beautiful girlfriend is hard at work pleasing all the photo directors and making sure everything goes smoothly. One pose that she does however, makes you move around your legs and adjust your raging member. The top she had on already was showing parts of her cleavage, but in this pose from your viewing angle, it was showing more of it and your salivary glands were an indication of how much you were enjoying the view.

It seems like the camera didn't have the same angle you had, as you see the pictures the photographer takes and only a small amount of her cleavage gets shown in them. It didn't help that the top also accentuated her bust and made it harder for you to calm down your raging member.

She catches your gaze at her, and in return she flashes a smile at you. She lowers her gaze at you and from her body language it looks like a light bulb went off in her head.

She returns her focus to the task at hand though, and brings her gaze back to the photographer and continues her work. Everything goes by smoothly and in no time they take a break and everyone separates in different directions.

Unable to find your girlfriend, you head into the makeshift dressing room that was made for her. As soon as you open the door, an arm pulls you into the room and loudly slams the door. A pair of lips suddenly attacks yours and from the familar feeling of said lips, you realize that your girlfriend was waiting for you and for the right time to charge right at you.

She guides one of your hands directly to her bust and in no time you give the worship her tits deserved. Especially after that small moment that happened during the photoshoot. You couldn't stop thinking about them after that and now you finally scratch the itch that's been bothering you.

You take over and release from Natty's lips and reverse the roles as you push her against the door and carry her up. She immediately gets the idea as she wraps her legs around your waist and you continue another heated liplock. As your tongue swirls around hers and reasserts your dominance to her, your hands aren't idle.

Your hands quickly move up to her tight fitting shirt that caused all this trouble in the first place. Rapidly they make their way under her shirt and suddenly you're met with warmth as you place your hands right at her underboob. Natty lets out a moan and you feel the vibration of the sound as you both just keep on sloppily making out.

Once your palms make contact with her supple flesh, she lets out a louder moan. From that action alone, you can just feel the stronger vibration so you painfully decide to remove your lips from hers. You continue to rub your palms all over her flesh and every time your palms rub over her quickly hardening nipples, she lets out a whiny moan and it's almost like music to your ears.

Your thumbs make their way on their own accord as they immediately target her nipples. Once the pads of your thumbs run over her nipples her moans begin to increase in volume. Your index finger joins the party as you begin teasing, tweaking and pinching her nipples. With the way you tweak and pinch her nipples, it seems like you're adjusting her volume based on your actions. Doing certain tweaks and pinches allow for different ypes of moans and many different volumes that reveal whatever you do, she enjoys every little second of it.

When you reluctantly remove your hands from her mounds and from the warmth of inside her shirt, she lets out an exasperated breath. "Hnghh, babe why did you stoppp. Ughhh."

You don't respond with words, but your actions definitely spoke louder than any sentence you can muster in the moment. In a flash, your hands pull down the shoulder straps that were weakily holding her shirt up. As her bare breasts are presented to you, you don't waste a moment as your lips cling onto one of her peaks and Natty has to stifle a moan while your warm lips make first contact.

Goosebumps form all over Natty's skin as you continue worshipping your favourite body part of hers. Just from the constant sucking and flicking at her hardened nubs, turns her on even more than usual and she throws her head back into the door behind her. The thud her head made sounded loud from your position but when she reacts like that, why should you stop what you're doing?

Every time she tries to voice her satisfaction to you, it gets caught in her throat as you always seem to find the right timing when changing your actions. So instead she decides to voice her opinion by bringing her hand up from her neck, places it on the back of your head and plays with your hair.

After you've had your fill worshipping her well endowed tits, you pull your head back from them and you tilt your head up and see your girlfriend dazed and drunk in lust. Rapidly, you lift her legs so they're resting on your shoulders and you split her in half as you push her legs towards her own shoulders. Quickly, you maneuver your way to her belt, unbuckle it then unbutton and unzip her pants.

As she feels you begin to undress her bottom half, she quietly whispers out, "We have to be quick babe, I don't know how long the break is going to be." Understanding her drift, you don't fully pull her pants off, but you pull it down enough to give you access to her clothed pussy, only being covered by a black thong and drenched in her arousal after your titplay.

You move her thong to the side and your eyes are greeted with her dripping pussy, just asking to be fucked. Not wanting to waste any time, you follow suit by only slightly undressing your own bottom half and pulling out your cock and rest it just beside her pussy lips. She shivers as she feels your manhood so close to her sex, and her facial expression just shows how desperate she is for you to enter her.

You notice her desperation as you quickly aim your cock at her slit and teasily rub your cock along it, hearing whines and quiet moans to your own personal pleasure. For the sake of your own girlfriend's sanity you decide to give into her desires as you slowly push into her slick entrance. Even though she is as slick as you expected, she feels extremely tight as you slide your cock into her sex. You slowly thrust and slide in, trying to get her used to your size on first thrust.

When you fully bury your shaft to the hilt, you look into her eyes and surprisingly she has never changed her facial expression. She's still drunk in lust, and even though she is being stretched out for the first time in a while, she makes sure it doesn't seem like it.

However when you begin to pull out, you feel her walls tighten even more, causing you to let out an unexpected moan hopefully not loud enough that others were able to hear. You continue thrusting slowly into her, establishing a slow rhythm even though you both knew the small amount of time you guys potentially had.

You continue your lovemaking onto your girlfriend as you hear her stifling her moans and quietly whining every time to fill her to the hilt. You always loved these moments with her. While you loved fucking her brains out, the intimacy of slow and passionate lovemaking with Natty was always a pleasurable and enjoyable experience for both of you.

When her quiet whines and moans began to increase in volume, you rapidly reacted and muffled them with your own lips as you continue the passionate makeout you both initiated which started the whole string of events. You increase your pace just a smidge, and that alone causes her inner walls to tighten even more.

As you feel this happening, you change your angle the best you can and start aiming for her g-spot, chasing for both of your orgasms to hit at just the right time. After a few thrusts aiming and hitting it, while feeling both the loud vibration of your girlfriend's moans against your lips and the slick rushing down her walls, you know you hit the right spot. In no time, she reaches her orgasm thanks to you and a huge rush of slick runs around your shaft and leaks onto the floor beneath the two of you.

Once you realize the chain of events that just happened, you increase your pace and speedily reach your own orgasm just when her fluttering walls were finishing their strong and suffocating hold on you.

You let out a muffled grunt as you get pushed over the orgasmic edge, and the dam breaks loose and floods Natty's pussy sucking every drop from your balls. Lazily you continue thrusting into her until you empty everything inside her, constantly fucking your load until you were satisfied.

*knock knock knock* "Natty-nim! The break will be done in 5 minutes!"

You look at each other in shock, but know what needs to be done.

A/N: Well why don't you look at that? I'm back? Nah, I just wanted to get something out for my birthday, so sorry for quality on this fic if it isn't up to par with my other ones. Anyways, I guess happy birthday to me. Thanks to everyone for sticking by the blog even though I haven't posted in a while. Hope you enjoyed the fic, I'll see you guys around <3

[sleepingdeath-light]

grelle sutcliffe smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; grelle sutcliffe

outline ; “smut hcs for grelle”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, switch!grelle sutcliffe, role play, size kink, lingerie kink, marking kink, blood play, knife play, praise kink, body writing, dumbification, overstimulation

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

though she usually defaults to the role of a bratty (and, naturally, terribly dramatic) submissive, grelle is a switch and is more than capable of being her partner’s domme if they want/need her to be for whatever reason — e.g. being inexperienced and needing guidance, being a complete submissive and unable to take on a dominant role regardless of mood, or being another switch that’s been sent into sub-space for one reason or another

an actress at her heart, grelle has a massive thing for role play and can get remarkably theatric about it if you let her — full scripts, handmade costumes, designated roles, a plot that leaves you on the edge of your seat until the end, the whole nine yards really — but if you’re more in the mood for something more simplistic and straight to the point (e.g. you convincing her not to reap your soul through ‘unorthodox’ means, or something about university and wanting a better grade) she’ll still oblige you and thoroughly enjoy herself every step of the way… even if she does initially huff and puff and complain about the lack of drama and wit involved in her ‘role’

she generally prefers to bottom and is an absolute size queen that’s eager to take the biggest thing you’ve got — and let it be known that she will bitch and moan and brat out if you try and stick to anything smaller for foreplay or a quickie (so, for example, finger fucking her before she leaves for work in the morning will get her off in the moment, sure, but it will also leave her frustrated and snappy all day as she can’t wait to get home to you and that something bigger she’s anticipating being stuffed with later on)

she’s extremely vocal in the bedroom, talking and teasing and goading until she’s too far gone to speak and even then continuing to make her feelings known through moans and groans and sighs that send new waves of heat straight to your core — naturally she’s much more flirty and coherent during foreplay, when she’s still able to think about more than just how good she feels, but it’s easy enough to shut her up completely just by kissing her or by sending her into sub-space early on (which can be done through rougher play like hair pulling and scratching combined with vocal praise, like calling her your ‘good girl’ for example)

a guarenteed way to get grelle hot under the collar and itching to drag you off somewhere private is to take advantage of her kinks for lingerie and marking you up — so if you go to kiss her goodbye before her workday begins while wearing some sort of (preferably red) lingerie that shows off all of the pretty marks she left behind on your body then it’s either going to be a very long farewell or she’s just going to end up skipping work all together that day (or at least until william catches on and comes to drag her back to dispatch)

her marking kink is very mutual and if she happens to notice any marks you left behind after a night of passion, she’s going to get a bit red in the face and adjust her outfit as much as she can to show them off (bonus points if the mark happens to be a lipstick stain or a hickey on her throat or jawline)

her role as a reaper and her past as a serial killer alongside madam red have given her an unparalleled confidence and competence when it comes to using any sort of knife or blade in the bedroom — this means that she’s up for pretty much anything whether that’s just cutting to draw blood for the sake of it (which is another thing she enjoys, whether that blood happens to be on you, on her, on you both, or whatever), or one of you cutting the other in order to leave a visible mark and claim on them

she absolutely lives for your praise and if you ever want her to be on her best behaviour for you then the quickest way to go about it is to whisper sweet nothings into her ear as you play with her hair, alternating between showering her with compliments and lamenting about how you wish she’d be ‘good’ for you because only ‘good girls’ get rewards and you want nothing more than to spend the night buried between her thighs… — in short, flattery gets you everywhere when it comes to grelle

if you ever proposed body writing to her, grelle would definitely be up for giving it a go, covering your body in little notes that range from long-winded love letters so sweet that they’d make anyone swoon to claims of ownership, to little messages about what she loves to do to you — so, for example, you’re equally as likely to wake up the next day and find a cursive ‘my darling <3’ written over your heart or on your stomach as you are to find something like ‘mine’ scrawled desperately onto your ass or just above your sex at the apex of your thighs (also surrounded by little hearts)

on the rare occasion where she’s in the mood to top she enjoys fucking you until you’re too far gone and cock drunk to do anything other than be her moaning messy little play thing until she’s had her fill of you — bonus points if you start sobbing through your orgasms from overstimulation and, for an afab partner, if you squirt when she’s pleasuring you

she has both an exhibitionist and a voyeuristic streak so she has no qualms with putting on a show for you or with watching you get off for her — for similar reasons, in a more modern setting she’d probably be down for exchanging nudes with you or just having phone sex with you in general

when having sex, grelle usually prefers to bottom for you in missionary or to ride you/your strap in either the cowgirl or the reverse cowgirl position (if she’s feeling particularly dominant) — when topping she usually sticks to the same positions, but she will occasionally branch out into the mating press if she’s really in the moment and wants to absolutely ruin you

[weskie]

What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x amab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, afab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else.  Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

 Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it.  Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day.  Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges.  He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch.  Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away.  He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it.  You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down.  When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?”  You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he?  He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you?  Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair.  Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs.  “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly. 

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke.  The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap.  He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss.  Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains.  He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck.  You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head.  Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring.  Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it.  He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need.  “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing.  “Just relax.  Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come.  It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips.  Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs.  Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up.  He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him. 

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.  

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly.  His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you.  His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another.  He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate? 

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock.  He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes.  He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him.  Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his.  You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you. 

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away.  “Again, huh?”  You breathe.  

Again… yes. 

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons.  Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another.  You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him.  It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him.  He may not have his full strength yet, but this?  This more than makes up for it.  One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied.  Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him.  You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!”  You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs.  Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him. The tip of it ghosts over the length of your cock, making you buck and whine.  “Al!” 

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him.  These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now?  Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache.  It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be.  The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your twitching shaft. 

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs.  He didn’t even have to lift a finger…  There’s so many things he could do with you.  He could lift you, surely, to his face.  Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you from base to tip and wrap his lips around the head of you, suckling away at your dribbles of arousal.   Or he could lower you onto his cock right now.  Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing.  He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless.  Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your hole.  You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your opening.

“I-I thought– mm!”  You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”  

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones find their way to your rear, baring your hole to him.  You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches.  All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this.  He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!”  Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind.  Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance.  “O-Oh my god!”  You mewl, head falling back.  “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once.  Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him…  Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment.  His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.  

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches.  “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words.  Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.  

But he does know why, deep down.  Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth.  You deserve this.  You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you.  For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything. 

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your ass onto the bed.  It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress.  But he doesn’t care.  Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly.  He can practically hear it hitting the depths of you, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure.  And oh… you deserve it.  You deserve all that he can possibly give you.  You were there for everything.  The good, the bad, the horrifying…  Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.  

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself.   You come undone so beautifully, cock spurting your release onto his chest.  He has to grasp himself and squeeze the base damn near to the point of pain just to keep from blowing his load right then and there.  Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock… 

Even then, it’s like he can feel it.  The sensation is dull, but it is there.  Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your walls– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him.  You belong to him.  You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur.  “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release.  You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear.  It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.  

“O-One more for me.”  Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze.  He will not miss a second of this.  “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.”  He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more.  As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.  

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make.  It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your hole.  Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change.  “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands.  As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your ass while the others force you down onto his cock.  “Oh, god!”  He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.  

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white.  There’s nothing.  Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth.  Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe.  It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him.  You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs.  It’s all he can think to say.  Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually.  But, for now, this much is due.  “For… having lost control.”  It isn’t even an exaggeration.  At some point, all thought went out the door.  There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress. 

He needs to become better at that.  

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow.  “You’re full of surprises…”  There’s a hint of amusement in your voice.  That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him.  “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more.  For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat.  You feel like home.  What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

[atoriid]

A Glimpse Of What Was

-one shot- (series??)

summary: Visions of the past seemed to haunt you more than usual today…

incl.: angst, murder, death, canon divergence, established relationship, fem reader, heian era Sukuna, son Itadori, pseudo-adopted son Megumi

pairing/s: Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru (yes I’m keeping those two together fuck death!)

warning/s: angst, nsfw talks but just a sprinkle, blood (well…Jujutsu Kaisen is a whole warning in on of itself so…proceed with caution)

note: I’m. Going. To. Have. A. Happy. Ending. No. Matter. What. Gege. Says. So! This one shot is inspired by this flash fic [ ever imagine having children with me? ] Can be read as a standalone but check it out still! Also, part two is in the works! Hurrah!

☆masterlist☆ Part 1 - 2

Everything felt wrong.

From the moment you opened your eyes in the morning til after you've wrapped up your class with the second years, everything just did not feel right…

You could not pinpoint the cause, like an itch beneath your skin that you were unable to scratch. And to your misfortune, your unease showed just enough for your co-teacher, Gojo Satoru, to notice.

“You look like you just touched chewed gum, L/n~chan.” His infamous giggle, like a menace melody, rang through the faculty room.

A heavy sigh left your mouth as you continued to type the report you have neglected to work on from your previous mission. “It's…nothing, Gojo.”

“Eh~.” Poke, poke, his freakishly long fingers mercilessly assaulted your cheek. “But you look so miserable~.”

Having no energy to entertain this massive cat, you begrudgingly tried to ignore him.

A few seconds later, the office door opened, revealing Gojo's better half, Geto Suguru. Well, better half was an overestimate. Geto Suguru was a whole other menace but at least he's more tolerable than his partner.

“Toru? Shouldn't you be with Megumi right now?” You raised an eyebrow; Gojo had told you Megumi was back in his dorm.

“Gojo…did you give Megumi your task…again?”

“Maybe~,” he shamelessly replied as he spun around in his office chair.

“You're supposed to retrieve a special-grade cursed object, Toru!” Geto scolded, forcing the chair to halt so he could face him.

“He'll be fine, baby~.” Geto facepalmed.

“A gentle reminder you willingly proposed to this pain in the ass,” you said before taking a sip of your poison for the evening.

Geto's face scrunched, a look of deep regret painted on his face, while Gojo's jaw dropped, seemingly offended by this. “Hey! That's mean.”

“Don't worry, babe, I still love you.” Geto kissed his cheek before pulling this noodle of a man to his feet, and you gagged at the display of affection.

“Really? Right in front of me?” Gojo stuck out his tongue as he clung onto Geto’s arm, who was clearly amused by your misery.

“You're the one who refuses to see people, L/n-san,” referencing the countless attempts they made to set you up with someone they know.

“Mhm~ you're gonna get old and alone, L/n~chan~.”

An irk mark appeared on your forehead. “I swear, Gojo, if you stay here any longer, you won't have a full head of hair.”

“Eik!” Gojo pathetically jumped onto Geto, reflexively wrapping his arms around his neck as Geto held him up like he weighed nothing.

Geto chuckled, “I'm taking this pain in the ass away now.”

You rolled your eyes, dismissively waving your hand. “Just go, you two.”

“We'll see you tomorrow, then, L/n-san. Don't stay here for too long.”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah, I'll try not to.” Once the duo was out of the room, you caught a bit of their conversation.

[ Gojo: Let’s get Kukifuku before picking up Megumi~]

Though you can't see it, you just know Geto was shaking his head but would ultimately give into Gojo's whims.

You were right because the next thing you knew Geto was agreeing.

Just as their voices faded away, a sharp pain shot through your head, before disappearing just as abruptly as its appearance. You shrugged it off before continuing your work.

:

After a few, the initial ache came back again with a cruel vengeance as the pain crawled into every crevice of your brain. You started to feel nauseous, your vision began to blur, and not long after, everything turned black.

You woke up from your little nap, nestled onto your husband's lap, wrapped around one of his strong arms. You looked up, your sleepy eyes catching a blurry image of your handsome husband. A dopey grin stretched onto your face as he fussed over the small bundle of joy in his other arm.

Once he noticed you were awake, he turned his head to face you, pinching your cheek with one of his free hands. “Look kid, your mother is finally awake.”

Your smile widened even more as you heard the melodious gurgles of your little baby. You sat up to lean over and reach your hand to hold onto his small, gloved ones.

“Sorry, baby, Mommy was just feeling a little tired~.” Your husband's warm hands rested on the small of your back and onto your shoulder. Your baby started to playfully punch the air, happily kicking his chubby feet.

“Hm~ yeah, go reprimand your mother.” You playfully glared at your husband.

“Ryo! Just so we're clear, this is all your fault.” He just gave you a look.

“Woman, are you on about?”

“Oh, I don't know…fucking me to oblivion just this morning? Hm?!” You accused him, leaning closer until your nose was almost touching.

Sukuna deadpanned, “Say that to me again but do remember you're the one who begged me not to stop.”

Heat crawled up to your cheeks. “I- uh sp-ugh…s besides the point…”

He quirked up an eyebrow, “Hm…yes, sure…whatever you say, wife.”

Before you could say anything more, your little boy made a few noises before spiraling into a crying session.

“Oh no, Yuuji baby~.” You reached out to hold him in your arms, rocking him a bit before realizing he must be hungry. “Hungry, are we now?”

You bolted awake, the migraine gone, but the ringing of your phone might as well have brought it back. You looked at the caller ID; it was Megumi.

Without a second thought you answered it. “Gumi?”

[“L/n-sensei, uh, there was a situation.”]

You heard a big crash in the background.

“Are you in danger or hurt, Megumi?” Worry filled you; you swore if Gojo and Geto let this kid get hurt while in their watch-

[“Danger, no.”]

You let out a sigh of relief.

[“Hurt…yes.”]

“I-what? I thought it was a simple pick-up?”

You heard him sigh, [“It was supposed to be, but it spiraled out of control.”]

“Oh dear…do I need to go there?”

[“No, but are you still in Jujutsu Tech?”]

“Yes, why?” You heard him choke out his words, and you found it adorable, really adorable.

[“C-can you patch me up when we get back?”]

You fought the urge to coo, “Of course! I'll wait for you at the gate.”

[“Thank you, sensei.”]

You chuckled, “No problem~ oh, and please be a dear and say to Gojo and Geto they're dead once I see them.”

[“I will, oh, we'll be heading back in a bit.”]

“Okay then, I'll see you soon.” He ended the call, and you stretched a bit before preparing the first aid kit for your injured student.

:

You stood near the entrance of the tech when a cold chill ran up your spine as you made out the figures of Gojo, Geto, Megumi, and a pink-haired boy slumped onto Gojo's shoulders.

Sulfur filled your lungs, your eyes fought to stay wide open as you fought tooth and nail from your captors and the special chains they caught you with.

You let out a strangled scream; to your right was your husband struggling to fight his way towards you. Tears of pure rage streamed down your face as you witnessed the grueling sight. Your husband’s arms and legs were wrapped with red-hot chains as several sorcerers tried to subdue his rampage.

And as if this sight was not enough, your world slowed when you heard your precious little boy's scream.

Your head snapped to the direction. Your boy, your Yuuji, was being held like some animal by some disgusting sorcerer.

“YUUJI!” He was supposed to have run far from here already; why is he here?!

This split-second distraction was a grave mistake as the sorcerers took this chance to finally pin you down.

A guttural sound came out of you as they began to gag you and put more chains to keep you from moving. You were breaking your skin, your bones even as you feraly tried to break the chains.

Your husband seemed to also have seen what was happening as his rampage seemed to amp up. You could see your Yuuji trying to get out of the man's hold, kicking, punching, and screaming to let go. Your baby was calling your name and your husband's. Your heart broke again and again as you heard his broken voice crying for you.

“Kill the child.” Some fly dared to order. The man holding your baby pinned him down while another was holding up a blade ready to swing.

NO

NO

NO

MY BABY

YUUJI MY BABY

LET GO

You gave everything you've got to loosen the chains, dislocating your arm in the process just to give you even a small opening to brutally pry yourself out of the hold. You ignored the searing pain everywhere in your body as you made your way to your crying child.

What you failed to notice was a sorcerer behind you; she took a stance and without hesitation swung the blade right on your back.

You stumbled forward, a gut-wrenching feeling coursing through your veins; you did not even feel the blade because right in front of you, the sorcerer plunged his sword into your Yuuji's chest.

He mercilessly stabbed thrice, “Stop it, soldier!” The woman behind you shouted, and the man hesitated before giving up, muttering curses before stepping away.

You pathetically crawled your way to your baby, blood dragging and pooling around both of you as you took your boy into your weak arms.

“M-mom-mommy…” His weak voice choked out.

“I-I'm so sorry, my baby…” Your shaky vision caught his tearful eyes. You tried your best to hold his bloody body nearer to you.

“I l-love you, my Y-yuuji.” You choked out as you felt his weak heart give out.

A lone tear started to fall from your eye. Not a second later, like a dam had been forced open, tears freely flowed from your eyes. Emotions of unknown origins weighed heavily on your heart as the face of the pink-haired boy came into view.

“Oh dear gods…my Yuuji.”

☆masterlist☆

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 23: Gentle Touch

Human Resistance Masterlist

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tw: restraints, brainwashing, drugging, involuntary surgery, drug withdrawal

Zach awoke from his fitful sleep with his heart pounding and his hair and pillow soaked in sweat. Every part of him felt wrong, wrong, wrong, like there was an itch inside of him that couldn't be scratched, like he wanted to burst from his own skin, like he was being tormented by a swarm of invisible insects, like he couldn't bear a second longer. He listlessly thrashed against his restraints, barely able to budge an inch, his hands encased in thick mitts. The IV in his elbow stung, and he was seized with an irrational urge to somehow pull it out with his teeth, when his mind was assaulted once more.

You have been reported lost. You must report to your nearest superior. You will comply.

His body went rigid and stiff as the irresistible command overwhelmed his mind, derailing any of his own thoughts and filling him with the urge to obey. The collar fused to his spine didn't care that he was restrained and unable to escape. It continued to flood him with commands at regular intervals, making it impossible to rest. Between that and the withdrawals from the drug cocktail he'd been on, he was being driven out of his mind.

You are docile. You are obedient. You will comply. You will report to your nearest superior.

He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't. He was a bad pet. They'd already cut the tracking devices out of him, so his superior couldn't find him easily.

Or maybe his superior wouldn't even try to find him, because he was a bad pet, always thinking bad thoughts. Maybe they didn't really forgive him for his actions in the human resistance. Maybe this was somehow his punishment.

He thrashed harder against his restraints, unable to keep the tears from flowing down his face. Pathetic. The commands were fading out again, and he tried to clutch onto them, letting them echo through his mind, his only connection to home.

"Zach!" One of the doctors rushed in and pushed him back down onto the bed. "Zach, please calm down."

"I need to comply!" he yelled. "I need to report to my nearest superior!"

"I know, I know. It's okay, Zach," she said in a way that was probably meant to be soothing. "I know it's hard. Can you please just relax for a moment? I have something important to tell you."

Zach took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself. Pointlessly straining wouldn't bring him any closer to compliance, he knew.

"We're going to be performing the surgery to take that collar off and get the chip out of your head," she said. "That should quiet those commands in your head, make things easier on you. Okay?"

It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in, as Zach's eyes widened in panic.

The mind control collars fused to their humans' spines, and the surgery to remove them had a high risk of complications. One small mistake, and the patient could end up paralyzed from the neck down, a death sentence in the apocalyptic remains of humanity -- or they could simply die on the operating table.

But these thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by the realization that he was about to lose his last connection to his superiors.

"No!" he howled. "No, you can't! I don't consent to this! I have to report -- I have to comply --"

"Mary, prep him," the doctor said, and Zach noticed the other doctor standing near the foot of his bed, who pulled a syringe from her pocket.

"Get away from me!" he said, struggling against the restraints so hard they cut into his skin.

The doctor pushed his head back down onto the pillow and shoved an earbud into his ear. A soft and familiar sound was coming through them, and Zach's struggles stopped in an instant so that he could better hear. The noise was garbled, but it sounded so much like his superiors, soothing and praising him.

There was a gentle touch on his cheek, and Zach looked up at the doctor. He knew that the sound wasn't real, but he couldn't stop himself from relaxing, wanting the comfort of his superiors so badly. He could almost imagine that the doctor's hand was a tentacle, and that he was gazing up into his superior's eye, watching the beautiful colors swirl and soothe.

"It's okay, Zach," she said. "You're just going to go off to sleep now, all right?"

Zach nodded slowly. He hadn't slept since he'd been taken by the human resistance. He knew he shouldn't sleep, but it sounded nice.

An uncomfortable burning sensation in his elbow broke him out of his momentary calm, and he looked up just in time to see a milky fluid disappearing into his arm. He screamed and resumed his fight, angry at being caught off guard, hoping to somehow stave off the drug even as his arm and shoulder began to burn.

The doctor pushed him down onto the bed with all her strength. "Zach, it's okay! You're just going to go to sleep. Just go to sleep, okay?"

He couldn't go to sleep. He couldn't let them take off his collar. He had to fight this, he had to escape, he had to comply. He had to be stronger than the drug.

Even as he thought that, the room began to spin and tilt around him, and he collapsed back onto the bed. His vision blurred and there was a strange taste at the back of his throat. The doctor was saying something to him, but she sounded so far away.

He really, really wanted to close his eyes.

And then --

Human Resistance Masterlist

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[thesilversun]

Dihua exchange fic: Fragments of our Past

Writen for @flashbulb-memory as part of the the Dihua exchange.

Bulb, I hope this was the kind of thing that you wanted.

Title: Fragments of our Past

Pairing: Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua

Rating: Mature (brief nsfw in Di Feisheng's memory fragments)

Warnings: No AO3 archive warning apply

Word count: 5984

Additional tags on AO3: Temporary Amnesia, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, regaining lost memories, previous relationship together, working on getting back together.

Summary:

After returning to the Lotus Tower following the events at Mountains Red, Di Feisheng finds himself feeling more and more unsettled by what happened there. The women held there, how they were people who wouldn’t be missed. The cruel master with guards controlled and beholden to him even if they did not wish to do his bidding. Even Murong Yao, how he’d come to take vengeance, how he’d wanted it to be over, rather than to take power and continue the cycle of oppression. They all play into memories that he no longer has access to, yet still manage set his nerves on edge.

Unable to rest, a late night practice with his sword brings with it a brief flash of the past - a shared, intimate past with Li Lianhua.

Read here or on AO3

They leave Mountains Red, the women freed and able to return to their homes if that is their wish, while they return to the Lotus Tower.

For all it is over and done with, Di Feisheng finds himself feeling more and more unsettled by what happened there. The women’s captivity, how they were people who wouldn’t be missed. The cruel master, with guards controlled and beholden to him even if they did not wish to do his bidding. Even Murong Yao, how he’d come to take vengeance, how he’d wanted it to be over, rather than to take power and continue the cycle of oppression.

His head aches it with it all, a low level background discomfort that refuses to fully fade no matter what he does to try to ease it. Memories that he no longer has access to, somehow still setting his nerves on edge. While old scars itch and ache with phantom pain, his body recalling old hurts, even when his mind does not.

Despite this there have been no new memories forthcoming, but he can feel their presence bubbling just beneath the surface. Either they will rise and become known, or they will sink back into the depths. He has no way of knowing or forcing either eventuality.

So, for all he is weary, aching with the need for rest, Di Feisheng knows he won’t manage it. Not yet, maybe not at all tonight. All he will do is grow more and more frustrated at his inability to remember or to sleep. Eventually, his restlessness will wake Fang Duobing, who will be tired and tetchy from being woken up in the middle of the night. As much fun as squabbling with him usually is, he doubts that either of them are in the mood for it. As for Li Lianhua, he definitely wouldn’t be happy if he was woken up by raised voices and breaking furniture.

If he can’t sleep then maybe he can burn off some of the restless energy boiling in his veins.

Taking his sword, Di Feisheng leaps easily down from the upper part of the Lotus Tower. There’s no sense using the stairs and potentially waking Li Lianhua. He can let them sleep, even he cannot.

Perhaps if he tires himself out then maybe he’ll be able to get an hour or two before he’s woken by the sunrise and the sound of the forest coming alive around them.

The moon is bright as he steps out into the wooded clearing, the dry autumn leaves murmur softly above him in the breeze. It’s peaceful, yet sitting in such nocturnal calm isn’t what he has in mind.

Removing his sword from its covering, Di Feisheng traces his fingertips over the embossed metal of the scabbard and hilt. It’s well looked after, although there are small nicks and scratches on it, showing how it’s been used.

It’s not just decorative piece, carried only for show. It’s a weapon first and foremost. It’s a weapon, it has been used to kill and it’s his. He knows this much with absolute certainty.

He might not remember who he is, not beyond the few fragments he’s recalled for himself, the violently unsettling dreams that disturb his rest and the half truths that Li Lianhua has provided, but his body knows this.

It is as natural to him breathing. Each move flowing effortlessly one into the next, there is no need for thought: His muscles remembering what his mind does not. It isn’t an elegant style, at least not compared to others, but it’s powerful, exacting and demanding in its own way.

He feels alive like this. Power surging through him, the sword an extension of him and his will. It’s freedom and the strength to stay that way. It's the ability to make his own way in the world, unhindered by others.

Turning fast, Di Feisheng brings his sword round in an arc, energy rippling out from it, fierce as a winter storm. Branches bend and sways above him, autumn leaves showering down, as the silver moonlight catches his blade.

Dazzlingly bright, its reflection catches his eyes. Images of another autumn night, the moon full and golden over city rooftops, flood his mind and vision.

A young man in red and white, dances in the moonlight. Sword and ribbon and body all moving in complete harmony. The youth doesn’t look like Li Lianhua, even allowing for the passage of years, but he knows with absolute certainty that he is. Younger by at least ten years, he’s moves with a grace and power that makes something seize in his chest even now.

Another night and another roof top, they fight hard and reckless, blades sliding against each other, sparks dropping like the stars in the sky. A kiss across the crossed blades, as hard, as forceful, as the fight itself. Lips and teeth and heat.

They whirl away from each other, the vision of the past fleeing with them.

Images swirl, faster and faster, the pain and pressure in his head increasing. Dropping his sword, Di Feisheng staggers, clutching at his head. There is no relief to be found. The bright, stabbing bursts of pain are accompanied by flickering arcs of light.

Another time, a bright summer day in the bamboo forest, all heat and humidity beneath the greenery. Leaves showering down, light, whirling steps as Li Lianhua runs across the thin, swaying stems, free and unstrained like the breeze himself.

The image shifts again. Clothes hanging open, trousers pushed down to his knees, Li Lianhua clings to the towering bamboo, white knuckled, shaking, mouth open as he cries out in pleasure. Kneeling on the ground in front of him, Di Feisheng can remember the weight and heat of his cock in his mouth, the bitter salt rush over his tongue.

Caught in the rising tide of memories, barely aware of anything around him, Di Feisheng staggers then falls to his knees.

The memories aren’t yet done with him.

Another day, an inn, the golden afternoon light streaming in through the window, food left untouched on the table beside books and documents, while the are on the bed.

Naked apart from a red ribbon tied over his eyes, Li Lianhua gasps and moans, love bites littering his neck and chest, nipples dark and hard from where they’ve been mercilessly pinched and teased. Legs over A-Fei's shoulders, he arches into the punishingly hard thrushes, with no concerns for how sore he’ll be afterwards.

There is no sound to this vision of the past, but he can tell that the shape of the words that falls begging from Li Lianhua’ lips isn’t his name as it is now. Anymore than the name on his own tongue isn’t Lianhua.

Xiangyi.

In the memory Li Lianhua comes, his cries becoming more and more ragged and desperate as Di Feisheng chases his own pleasure.

That memory however, is denied him, as the pain in his head flares sharply. All encompassing, there is nothing he is aware of apart from its presence, everything else spiralling away.

Laying on the ground, his head aching fiercely, Di Feisheng slowly opens his eyes. The moonlit woodland blurs around him, dizziness and nausea building until he is forced to close them once more.

Trying to relieve it by feeding energy into it won’t help. Rather it will intensify the pain in his head, while the hidden things still beat at the edge of his consciousness, refusing to reveal themselves.

If he could regain his memories in this way, no matter the pain in doing so, Di Feisheng knows that he would. But it doesn’t work like that. He knows this because he has already tried. Because he has had to deal with how it had left him feeling feverish and sick, with a splitting headache for hours afterwards.

There’s movement close to him and Di Feisheng forces himself to open his eyes, although he doesn’t feel able to do more, even to defend himself. Which is a terrifying thought. But passing out or throwing up on them aren’t viable methods of attack.

A muted blur of colour approaches, the vicious pain in his head blurring his vision, and preventing him from seeing who is it. Finally, when they are almost close enough to touch they are clear enough for him to tell that it is Li Lianhua.

“Really, A-Fei, sleeping on the ground?” Li Lianhua sounds somewhere between amused and concerned. “Xiaobao doesn’t snore that badly, does he?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I-” Di Feisheng stops with a groan. Light still shimmers inside his head, a brilliant arc as if the sun had caught his corner of his eye. It brightens and the pain flares with it, an all consuming fire inside his skull. His vision distorts further, the ground beneath him feeling like it's falling away. Which is both impressive and utterly disconcerting as he is already lying down.

“A-Fei?”

Di Feisheng can’t reply as he feels cold, careful fingers pressed to his wrist. Trying to think enough to put even a few words together sends sharp bursts of pain searing behind his eyes.

“You’re not hurt,” Li Lianhua says, although it feels more like he’s talking to himself than offering reassurance. “Are you starting to remember?”

Still unable to voice an answer, Di Feisheng risks nodding. The smallest movement he can manage without it driving either the pain, dizziness or nausea to even higher levels. All the same he can feel a cold sweat beading on his forehead and down his spine.

“Now you know why I didn’t want to hit you with too much information all at once.” Li Lianhua pats his hand, before pulling away. “It shouldn’t last more than a few hours.”

Hours of feeling like this, of being all but defenceless, isn’t what Di Feisheng wants to hear. Yet what can he do but endure it? He tries to stay as still as possible, hoping that it will bring him some relief.

Unfortunately, laying there until it passes doesn’t seem to be something that’s going to be permitted, as Li Lianhua says, “Lets get you back to bed. You can’t sleep out here.”

Then, before he can say anything to dissuade him, Li Lianhua puts an arm around him and pulls him to his feet.

Bright bursts of light and pain fill Di Feisheng’s mind like fireworks have been let off inside his skull. With a groan, he sways, clinging to Li Lianhua’s arm for balance. Even with that assistance he’s far from certain that he’s going to remain on his feet or if he is even going to cling on to consciousness at all.

“A-Fei?” There is concern rather than teasing in his voice now. “I’ve got you.”

He has and it should be terrifying to be so weak and defenceless in front of anyone. Why he thinks it should be, Di Feisheng doesn’t know. Feelings and fears born of events and memories he no longer has access to still plague him.

It should be frighting to be so helpless, but he’s safe. With Li Lianhua, despite his lies, he knows he is safe.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

“No.” It hurts to talk, but he forces the word out all the same. Although any kind of movement feels somewhere between wildly inadvisable and outright impossible, he knows he has to try. Maybe he’ll regret it in moment if he ends up face first in the leaves, but the idea of giving up this last little bit of control is too much.

Li Lianhua gives his hand another small pat. “We’ll take it slow.”

Holding onto him for support, eyes still closed as it is the only relief he can find, Di Feisheng allows himself to be walked slowly and carefully back to the Lotus Tower.

Li Lianhua doesn’t ask any further questions about what he has remembered or even how he’s feeling. Nor does he try to make him negotiate the steps up to the bedroom upstairs that he’s suppose to share with Fang Duobing. Instead he guides him to his own bed. It’s probably only due to practicality, but it feels right all the same.

“Lay down.” Li Lianhua keeps a hand cradled against he back of Di Feisheng’s head as he guides him down onto the pillow. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Not that there is anything that he can do if he’s not.

He is wondering if passing out now that he’s safely indoors is an option, when a cool, damp cloth is laid on his forehead. Then deft fingers remove metal hair piece and pin that holds it in place, so nothing presses on his aching head.

It offers a small amount of relief for which he feels pathetically grateful. He wishes that Li Lianhua would stay there beside him, would keep his cool, careful fingers against his aching head. Even if it doesn‘t provide relief it is comforting all the same.

He won’t ask for it. He won’t beg. He’ll never do that again. Not for anyone.

A flicker of something too vague to be called a memory comes to him. Begging didn’t work anyway. It only meant more pain.

He can’t chase this thought, won’t hunt down this echo of something left behind by a past that he both needs to know, yet is hesitant to fully recall. Something holds him back, tells him to let it pass, at least for now.

The world narrows to nothing but the throbbing in his head, and the surging waves of nausea and vertigo that accompany it. How long he drifts like this, Di Feisheng doesn’t know, but finally he feels the thin mattress dip and the wood frame creak as Li Lianhua sits of the edge of the bed beside him.

A moment later a bowl is held to his lips, as Li Lianhua says, “Drink. It’ll help.”

The smell of whatever questionable medicine he has made is enough to turn Di Feisheng’s stomach. The taste, if possible, is even worse. It’s a struggle to drink it, but he does. He can endure the acrid, bitterness of it, if it will make the unrelenting pain in his head go away.

All the same, as he feels a second bowl pressed to his lips, he refuses, unable to stomach anymore. “No more.”

“It’s not medicine. It’s to take the taste away.”

It could be a lie, but he trusts that he won’t hurt him. It’s warm and faintly sweet, just water with a little honey melted into it. He drinks it gratefully, glad to be rid of the lingering bitterness of the medicine.

Li Lianhua leaves for a moment, then replaces the cool cloth on his forehead, fingers lingering a little too long to be purely practical as he brushes back his hair.

The night drifts on, and the pain and dizziness begin to fade, a gradual ebbing, likely a retreating tide. Finally, Di Feisheng risks opening his eyes. His head still aches, but the pulsing light is gone, and the pain has dropped to a dull throbbing rather than something agonisingly sharp.

He remains still at first, just breathing and looking around now that the light no longer hurts his eyes.

A single lantern, dim and shuttered, hangs above the table, creating only a small pool of light over Li Lianhua. Sitting at the table, a pot of tea to his side, he looks almost asleep. Eyes are closed, his head resting against this hand, where it is propping him up.

Li Lianhua has been far kinder and more patient than Di Feisheng had expected he would be, than he’d expected anyone to be with him. He has no expectation of kindness or care. Yet why wouldn’t he be? Li Lianhua understood pain and weakness better than most. With the poison slowly taking his life, how could he not?

He watches him, the dim gold of the lamplight seem to make him glow. He had been in love with him once. Maybe he still is. That brief glimpse of the power that Li Lianhua once had, one to rival his own. They had been perfect for each other in every way. What had gone wrong? Why has Li Lianhua not been honest about it?

Di Feisheng frowns, something tickling at the edge of his consciousness, yet refusing to let itself become known. He doesn’t want to force it. Not when his head has only just stopped feeling like it’s being split open.

Perhaps now he knows a little of his past he can get Li Lianhua reveal more of what they had been to each other. It’s late, possibly not the best time to talk, but there feels like there is an urgency to it, that if he leaves it until morning all he will get is excuses.

It has to be now, he decides, in case those few precious memories he’s regained start to fade.

Wary, less the pain and dizziness return, Di Feisheng sits up slowly and carefully. They don’t, but the movement makes Li Lianhua turn to look at him.

Half asleep, Li Lianhua blinks, barely stifling a yawn, as he says, “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

It’s a reasonable question, but it catches him by surprise all the same. Di Feisheng doesn’t think he’s someone who was used to being cared for or even kept safe. Did he only ever have this with Li Lianhua? Is this why they’d had such an intimate relationship? Perhaps soon he will have answers to this. “Better.”

“You’ve regained your memories,” Li Lianhua says, as if he is stating a fact rather than asking a question.

“Some. Yes.” He could be honest with him, tell him that it is only a very few fragments, but Li Lianhua has told enough lies and half truths that Di Feisheng feels entitled to do the same. He could do. He could make him guess what he knows, getting him to reveal more by pretending to already be aware of it. It’s appealing. It makes him wonder if he was once the kind of person that lied easily to others. He doesn’t think so. Not without reason at least. All the same he wants to try it. He watches Li Lianhua for a moment, making sure he has his full attention before saying, “Were you ever going to tell me we were lovers?”

“What? We weren’t-”

Not giving him a chance to deny it, Di Feisheng interrupts. “We were. On the roof top. In the bamboo grove. At the inn. Shall I continue?”

There is a look close to panic in Li Lianhua’s eyes as he rapidly tries to think of a way of refuting it.

“Nothing to say?” Di Feisheng asks, feeling a little smug at being able to play Li Lianhua for once. “Surely you remember. A red ribbon around your eyes. You were so loud.”

“A few times ten years ago. It was never serious.” Li Lianhua turns away, pretending to busy himself with rearranging items on a shelf, buying himself some time to think. “Why would you even remember it? What useless memories to get back. I’d almost forgotten all about it.”

Di Feisheng doesn’t need to have all his memories to know that he is being evasive, nor a better light source to have seen the way his cheeks had turned pink. So it must have meant something to him. Was this denial an attempt to make the fact he’d not managed to heal him, to save him, easier to deal with? It was a stupid plan if it was. As if any way of losing him wouldn’t feel like his heart has been ripped in two.

Or had it ended badly between them?

Or maybe to Li Lianhua it really hadn’t meant much.

No, the last of these feels more like a lie than anything else. He’s seen the look Li Lianhua gets in his eyes when he thinks he can’t see him watching him. The gentle, caring touches when he knew that he was in pain. He’s seen the blush just now. The feelings are definitely there, but for whatever reason he wants to keep them hidden.

He might want that, but there had been two of them in the relationship, and Di Feisheng wants the truth. Even if they cannot regain what they once had, he wants to know what those days had meant to them.

“You say that. Yet even when I can remember nothing else, I remember you.” Getting up from the bed, Di Feisheng follows him to where Li Lianhua has retreated to fuss over potted plants instead of facing him. “Even when I know nothing about you, even when all you’ve done is lie to me, I know I want you to live.” He stops just short of touching him. “That I want you.”

“A-Fei, we-“ Li Lianhua stops, catching himself before he says more. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re so clingy already. Why would I want to make that worse?”

The dismissiveness of it hurts. He’s been expecting it, but it doesn’t lessen its sting. “You mean I was in love with you, but you didn’t feel the same?”

“What?” There is genuine surprising in his voice now. “No, you weren’t.”

The memories of Li Lianhua gasping and clinging to him, caught in the throws of pleasure, crying out his name, burn. For all Li Lianhua might think that there was nothing there, Di Feisheng cannot believe it. He might not have his memories but the feelings, possessive, protective, besotted, don’t feel like lies to him. “You think that? That I can’t love anyone? Was I so cruel to you?”

“So many questions, A-Fei. It’s much too late for such things.” Li Lianhua turns away, avoiding looking at him again. “Go to sleep.”

“So you’ll talk about in the morning?” There is nothing Di Feisheng can do stop the hurt bleeding into the anger in voice. “Am I suppose to believe that?”

“You can believe what you want.”

It’s a risk, maybe it doesn’t mean anything or maybe it will anger him. Regardless, Di Feisheng can’t think of a better idea. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I didn’t love Li Lianhua, but there was no Li Lianhua back then, was there?” He pauses a moment, seeing Li Lianhua’s shoulders tense, then he drops the rest. “The was only Li Xiangyi, who cried out my name as I took him.”

There is a thud as the water dipper that Li Lianhua had picked up falls to the floor.

So that was true as well. As horrible as the headache had been, Di Feisheng finds that he can now place it in the category of worth it. “Aren’t you going to say something? Deny it or tell another lie?”

“What would be the point?” Li Lianhua sounding weary rather than angry that this part of their past known to them both once more. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

“I know what I felt.” What I still feel.

“It didn’t…” There is no conviction in Li Lianhua’s voice at all.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything. Even if I was nothing to you. I know what I felt.”

“It wasn’t that. We…” Li Lianhua stops and sighs, the weight of those memories pressing down on him. He steadies himself, hands flat against the table top, eyes down cast. “Let it stay in the past, A-Fei. Neither of us are who we were.”

“Does that matter?”

He still doesn’t look up. “How could it not?”

Although Li Lianhua has refused to admit to any feelings for him, his actions speak far louder than any of his half hearted denials. There is one way this makes sense, albeit of an awful kind, that hurts more than it helps. “You’re lying to protect me.”

Weary, seemingly resigned to his fate, Li Lianhua’s shoulders droop, what little fight he had left in his vanishing. “What good would the truth be to you now?”

He has a point. What good would there have been in telling him that yes, once they’d been in love, but then something had happened, and now Li Lianhua was going to die. He was going to die because he hadn’t been strong enough or fast enough to save him.

Despite this, he still thinks that it isn’t a good point, because as horrible as that truth might be, Di Feisheng is certain he would rather know. Even if it only to make the most of every moment left to them.

“I’m going to remember it all in the end,” Di Feisheng says, walking up behind him, until they touch. “Were you hoping you’d be gone by then? That you wouldn’t have to face it? or me?”

When Li Lianhua doesn’t answer or move away, he puts his arms around him, holding him close, not willing to let him run out on answering. “You’re not a coward or a fool, regardless of what you pretend to be. Is self sacrifice so appealing to you? Do want to be thought of as a hero?”

There is an unsteady edge to his voice as Li Lianhua finally replies, “You’ve told me that before.”

“That you’re a fool?”

“That I want to be hero,” he says quietly, caught in memories of his own. “That it’s my greatest weakness.”

“Was I wrong?” Di Feisheng pauses, then adds, “Am I wrong now?”

Li Lianhua doesn’t answer. Instead he seems to sag, exhaustion finally getting the better of him.

Holding him close, Di Feisheng turns him in his arms until he is facing him. “I don’t know when I said that to you or why, but I don’t think I was wrong either.”

He strokes his hand along Li Lianhua’s jaw, as he’d done in his memories. Relief and even hope blossoms as he leans into it, rather than pulls away.

“Heroes get hurt. They pointlessly throw themself into danger for others who don’t appreciate it or deserve it. I don’t think I wanted that for you back then. For you to be hurt or used. I know I don’t want it for you now.”

Li Lianhua leans into his touch, eyes closing.

Di Feisheng can feel how cold he is, how exhaustion is truly taking hold. Heading out into the night to find him, helping him back inside, brewing medicine for him and then waiting up to see if it worked rather than resting, has cost him.

He holds him tighter. It feels good, right. He needs to keep him like this, needs him in arms. “Come to bed.”

“It’s my bed.” There is a soft huff of annoyance, as Li Lianhua adds, “I don’t need an invitation.”

“So I do?” Part of Di Feisheng wants to take this chance to kiss him, to see if he can shake loose something more than lies and half truths from him. Yet they aren’t quite at that point yet. He can wait for that.

Being able to rest can’t wait though. Now the pain in his head is almost gone exhaustion if fast taking its place. It’s unsurprising really. He’s slept poorly every night that he can remember since first waking up here, and pain is wearying by itself.

“Do you want me to go up and disturb Fang Duobing?” Di Feisheng says, although he has little intention of doing it. “Should I let him know that you were called-”

“Don’t you dare.”

There is something close to real fear or worry in his voice. Which is… interesting. “So he doesn’t know your other name. Why?”

“He doesn’t need to.”

It is possible that what he has said it truth. Di Feisheng has no idea about why Li Lianhua is called that now rather than Li Xiangyi. It's also equally possible that it's very important and he lying through his teeth about it. “He’ll find out eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t right now,” he snaps back. “So, don’t tell him.”

There’s nothing to be gained by arguing about it, so Di Feisheng replies, “I won’t, but I won’t do anything to stop him finding out either.”

He expects that to earn him another rebuke, but instead there is a soft laugh from Li Lianhua, as he shakes his head. “Still the same A-Fei, no matter what.” The laugh and smile fade, weariness that’s more than just physical creeping back in. “Don’t tell him.”

“I told you I won’t.” He strokes Li Lianhua’s cheek, a brush of fingertip, moving away a stray hair. “So I get to sleep here tonight?”

“Just sleep.”

“What else would we be doing?” Di Feisheng says with an innocence that they both know is fake. All the same, doing anything more strenuous than resting doesn’t seem wise. Yet if it was something Li Lianhua wanted, Di Feisheng knows that he wouldn’t say no.

They get ready for bed quickly, the night already cold and late. Lying down beside each other, their shoulders touch, the bed too small for them not to.

“All the times we were in bed together, we never just slept.” Li Lianhua says softly into the dark. “There was always some other matter to attend to. Something more urgent to deal with.”

“We were young.” Laying a hand on Li Lianhua, Di Feisheng starts to draw him closer. “We thought we had forever.”

There is no reply or resistance from Li Lianhua, only a shaky little sigh. An admission at last that this is a lot for him.

It’s probably too cruel to say such a thing to a dying man, and Di Feisheng finds that he regrets saying it. All the same he doesn’t apologise for it, there’s nothing to be gained by it.

“No more thinking and no more talking,” Li Lianhua says, prodding him, a finger against his ribs. “It’s late and I need my sleep. So either stop talking or go wake up Xiaobao and bother him.”

“I thought you told me not to.”

“I told you not to tell him about that, not that you can never speak to him.” Li Lianhua pushes half-heartedly at the arm Di Feisheng has around him. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” Di Feisheng replies, not loosening the arm around him. There is something rather endearing about how sleepy and grumpy he is at the same time. “You’re cold. I’m not. It’s practical.”

Li Lianhua makes an indignant noise, but doesn’t try to move away. Then, after a moment or two, he settles more comfortably into his arms, sinking into the offered warmth.

It doesn’t take long for Di Feisheng to feel Li Lianhua drift off to sleep, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. He watches him sleep, a faint outline in the fading lamplight. The barely remembered past overlayed onto the uncertain present.

He knows it won’t be easy to get Li Lianhua to admit whether he was in love with him back then, any more than it will be make him admit what is between them now. Perhaps Li Lianhua had even believed that there had been no feelings involved. Di Feisheng knows his own heart, and he won’t leave him in any doubt this time.

There are two things that Di Feisheng knows with absolute certainty are the truth, and they both concern Li Lianhua. The first is that he wants him to live. The second is that he is in love with him.

He will find out who he was and who Li Xiangyi was, he will find out what was done to him and why. He will find a way to save him, to bring him back to being an equal in all things. He will help the barely hidden embers of fondness still in him burst in flames of passion once more. He wants to make him shake with pleasure again, to hear him, to feel him.

What had happened between them that they had broken apart? Why had they been separated for so many years? Had they been? He only has Li Lianhua’s dubiously honest words that they had been apart for years.

Despite the warm covers and Di Feisheng laying by his side, his arm draped across him, Li Lianhua starts to shiver in his sleep, the poison in him leaving him cold and aching in even when he tries to rest.

Rolling onto his side, Di Feisheng pulls him closer, spooning against his back, so they are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. There is a practical element to sharing body heat like this, and he does hope the warmth of being held close will help ease the painful cold in him. There is a sense of satisfaction too, that he can do this, that he is allowed to do this, that whatever happened between them in the past Li Lianhua still trusts him. More than anything though, it feels right to hold him, like he is meant to fit into his arms.

Perhaps it’s too sentimental and it’s certainly not something that he’d ever say out loud, but Li Lianhua is the only part of his past that Di Feisheng can remember with fondness or joy. The memories he has of him, as fleeting as they are, are ones he wants keep forever. They are proof that at least some of his past had been happy. That it hadn’t all been the vicious, terrible things that have come to him in nightmares, ones where he is a child, his hands red with blood of the boys he’s killed, their screams ringing in his ears.

A shudder runs through him, and Di Feisheng presses his face in to Li Lianhua’s hair, letting their closeness soothe his tired, ragged nerves.

Whether the man in his arms is called Li Lianhua or Li Xiangyi, or even another name that’s not yet know, it doesn’t matter to him. How can it when it doesn’t truly know his own?

Why would names matter at all? he tells himself. As no matter whatever they call themselves or however long they’ve been parted they have found their way back to each other. He can’t say if he has ever truly believed in fate, he’s not sure he does even now, but it feels like they are meant to be together.

Let me have this. A silent plea to whatever kind deity might listen to the words in his heart, even though he cannot yet speak them aloud, even if he never can. If I can have nothing else, even if I can never remember another thing about who I was for the rest of my life, let him live and let us have this.

Outside, autumn rain clouds have hidden the moon, the soft patter of it falling on the roof and trees fills the night air. While warm and dry, they lay together, held close in bed.

Di Feisheng lets his breathing match Li Lianhua’s, slow and steady in sleep. For once he feels truly at peace. He’s lived this long and so has Li Lianhua. He’ll find a way to keep him safe and to save him.

Finally, on the edge of sleep, he presses his lips to Li Lianhua cheek. A far chaster kiss than those in his memories, it’s a reassurance that all is well, and a promise too, of a future he wants them to share.

Li Lianhua murmurs something in his sleep, contented rather than annoyed. Beneath the covers, his hand seeks out Di Feisheng’s, holding it tight, like he’s never going to let go.

In the dark and quiet of the room, only their breathing and the gentle fall out rain disturb the silence, Di Feisheng finally sleeps. Tomorrow can take care of itself, for tonight at least he has everything that he wants right here in his arms.