#and he might be able to actually help her. hook her up to fluids and transform her room in the cabin into a little makeshift hospital room.

[janumun]

The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, ���What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[i-lovethatforme]

Do you have any thoughts/ theories for the next film? I'm already thinking about it as I actively avoid nwh 😭

me and you and most other people ignoring nwh as we should as we deserve! i have thoughts! super strength mj thoughts! i started writing all kinds of things before i stopped to get all my fix its out the way and ignore the plots these would need so subsequently abandoned - but I'll post some snippets from the worlds i would like. aka idc about anyone other than - spidey mj/ black cat mj /venom mj

you'll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night

“Fuck my absolute life,” she wheezes, her arms aching more from the length of time she’s been hanging here than the weight of her body. Ever since she found this suit in her bedroom while she packed to move to college, MJ has been working on advancing it. Trying to piece together why on earth she has it in the first place. She doesn’t remember cosplaying as Spider-Man but the suit looks real enough that she probably spent a lot of money on it. It’s also probably why she purged it from her memory. The web shooters work as well - but when she googled it she found that there were a number of web shooters that can actually function. She didn’t know they came with fluid that stuck to walls but it only helped her recreate the formula when she was bored one night during her first term at college. MJ isn’t sure how her occasionally making modifications to this suit she found ended up with her now hanging between two twelve story high buildings on a thin piece of webbing that she knows is going to disintegrate in the next thirty minutes. It probably has to do with her being followed home a few months ago and being furious because she was terrified. And she shouldn’t be terrified because she should be able to walk home in the dark by herself without the threat of attack. But she can’t. At least not in Boston. Maybe if she still lived in NYC. New York has Spider-Man and albeit the crime was still high, there was an air of comfort walking home knowing you might get saved by the masked hero. Here, she has no one. But she did have a suit. So she thought how hard could it possibly be to be Spider-Man? Noone knows anything about him other than the fact he can climb walls but now so can she with the claws she developed. And he can lift heavy things but now so can she with the hydraulic hinges she sewed to the suit. And he can swing between buildings and now - Well. MJ can’t do that yet. This is why she’s hanging way too high above an alley and she thinks she needs to make further modifications but she can’t do them right now because her shoulders are about to give up and she’ll slowly fall to the ground. Ugh. MJ has tried swinging her legs back and forth but she can’t get the spikes she adhered to the suit to hook into the brick properly. Another thing she would change if she wasn’t about to splatter against the floor. She thinks about the leftover lasagna in the fridge that’s going to go mouldy until someone realises she’s gone and ugggh she just put a load of washing in the dryer and some rando is going to get her underwear. She thinks about her mum and the way she’s going to be heartbroken. She thinks about Ned who would probably think she’s cool as fuck for this but won’t forgive her for dying on him before she told him about it. She thinks about the boy from the coffee shop because she’s always thinking about the boy from the coffee shop. She thinks about - “Hello?” “Holy fuck -” she jolts. Spider-Man peers down at her from the roof and though she can’t see his face, he sounds concerned. “Do you need some help?” “Nah, I like to hang here for fun,” she wheezes, thankful that she fixed the voice modulator so she sounds like she's smoked thirty a day since she was four. “Okay,” they laugh slightly and she thinks fuck them. “Can I help you anyway?”

kill me slowly with your kiss

"I don't get close to people," he whispers as his body pushes her against the wall. His mask is tucked beneath his nose and there's a part of her that knows his lips but if he doesn't want his identity revealed, as she doesn't, she'll avoid tugging on that thread.

"Because it's difficult, or because you don't want to?" she asks. She doesn't care because she'd have to want to get close to him to care and she's not sure that she does. Because her last three missions have failed because he's been right there.

"It doesn't matter," he replies, pressing his lips lightly to her jaw. And as he touches his tongue to her neck, following with a suck of his lips, she figures, no, it doesn't matter.

"My lips are up here, Spider," she says impatiently as he marks her. She wants to tug his face to hers by his hair but she doesn't want him to think she's trying to unmask him when really his suit is so tight there's nothing to grip onto.

He laughs lightly, his whole body shaking with the movement and it's a delightful sound, one she'll replay in about five minutes when he's paralysed from her tranquiliser and she can finally go and get the artwork while Kingpin is out of town.

"Someone's in a rush," he teases and she wants to throw him around, have him being the one pinned to the wall but he's stronger than her and she doesn't want him to figure that out so she lets him hold her there instead. His leg wedged between hers as his lips finally touch hers.

It's softer than she thought it would be, with the way he throws his punches and the way he screams at people - she never knew he could be this soft. But then his tongue is in her mouth, his hand pulling at the roots of her white wig and she feels the tingles all the way to the tips of her toes.

She knows him. She knows his tongue. She knows his hands and his breathy moans and she knows him.

She just doesn't know how.

assume you'll be comin' for blood

Her brain no longer thumps painfully, the pressure fading so it doesn't feel like her head is about to explode. Her eyes are no longer black and that's kinda annoying cause she looked cool as fuck.

A few days ago she thought she was dying, hallucinating as the black inky liquid seeped from her skin and crawled along the floor. She was planning on never leaving the house again, committed to sinking back to the bathroom floor and dying there.

But it's been anywhere between five seconds and four years and she feels better. Ish. she ate eight chocolate bars and she's been talking to the voice in her head. So she's probably insane but she's leaning into it.

Besides, the black liquid makes her strong and it can grab her a can of drink from the fridge without her moving from the couch. Sure, she did end up chewing the head of the pizza delivery guy and that wasn't the best but she and venom have come to an arrangement.

No more delivery guys, no more threatening Mr Delmar.

They're only after Peter Parker.

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Back In A Snap

Chapter 3: Can’t Move On

Summary: Reader tries to accept the reality that Loki is gone, but it’s proving to be too much.

“How she holding up, Dr. Banner?”

“Please, Sasha, call me Bruce. It’s touch and go right now. The baby still appears to be healthy, but _____ isn’t staying awake long enough to eat or drink so she’ll have to stay hooked up to the I.V.”

“Do you know how long the other Avengers will be gone?”

“Hard to say. I know Captain Marvel took Brunnhilde and Thor to some planets she suspects Thanos might be on so they could be back any minute thanks to Thor using the Bifrost. As for the others….. Cap, Nat, and Hawkeye are working with Scott to figure out how to use the quantum realm to their advantage.”

“And Tony?”

“He should have arrived at Wakanda an hour ago. Their tech is unmatched and Shuri and Tony’s minds combined will come up with a solution.”

“I hope so.”

“Dr. Banner?”

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Dr. Cho has arrived to the compound. Shall I direct her to the lab?”

“Yes, thanks!” Bruce looked considerable more relieved. “With Dr. Cho here we may be able to find a way to snap your friend out of her cocoon. And we can get an ultrasound on her and see which, uh, parent they’re leaning towards.”

Sasha laughed. “You were going to say species, weren’t you?”

Bruce tried to hide his smile. “Yeah, and while it’s scientifically correct we shouldn’t think of the child in that way.”

Sasha’s smile faded. “Is there a chance…. that they could be born with Loki’s skin?”

Bruce ran his hand over his mouth as he looked at you asleep in the bed. “I honestly don’t know. None of us, save Thor, has seen Loki’s true skin. But from what Thor has told us, if the child is born that way _____ won’t be able to breast feed them or even hold the child without them being wrapped in blankets. It’ll prove a difficult road for her.”

Dr. Cho walked into the lab followed by a few staff members dragging equipment behind them. “I came as soon as I could, Bruce. Where’s the emergency?” Bruce gestured towards you. “Uh, Bruce, you know I love helping you guys out but why are you guys taking care of a pregnant woman? Should she be at the hospital?”

“Sorry I didn’t explain everything over the phone, Helen, but I needed you here as quickly as possible. This is a very complicated pregnancy and the mother-to-be is suffering from a deep depression. She hasn’t eaten on her own or been awake longer than five minutes since she arrived here.”

“How complicated can it be? And do you know the source of her depression?

"Yeah, the answer is actually the same thing. The father of her child is Loki and he was killed.” Helen’s jaw dropped and as she recovered to voice her objections, Bruce beat her to it. “Don’t bother with the lecture, Helen. We already tried to tell Thor no and he threatened to bring this complex down on our heads. Look, we have no idea who the child will take after and ____ being too depressed to function isn’t helping the situation. Will you help us or are you going to head back to Korea?”

Helen looked over at your body. Your frame had started to shrink over the last three weeks due to lack of food intake and it made your pregnant stomach stick out more. Sighing, she turned back to Bruce. “Fine, I’ll help. But I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

“Join the club.”

“How far along is she?”

“Should be in her eighth month currently.” Sasha chimed in.

Helen glance over at your friend. “Who are you?”

“Her best friend. And for the record, I was strongly against her dating Loki.”

“At least one of you has common sense. Ok, let’s get her hooked up and see what we’re dealing with.”

Dr. Cho’s staff instantly jumped into action, drawing blood from your arm and getting the ultrasound machine hooked up. While one of her assistants was running tests on your blood, another took out a syringe with a long needle to extract fluid from your womb. Sasha grabbed a stool and tried to sit as close to you as possible as the newly arrived doctor and her staff ran circles around your bed looking for answers. Bruce did his best to try to rouse you.

“Hey, ____. We need you to wake up. Dr. Cho is here to help you with your baby.”

“No, Bruce. Please. Just let me be. I-I can’t do this. Not without him.” You voice came out softly, no energy behind it.

“You can’t give up, kid. Sasha needs you and Thor is looking forward to being an uncle. You still have family here.”

Tears began to leak out of your eyes. “But he’s gone!”

“I know, I know. But you need to be strong. For your child.”

“They’ll have his skin, I just know it. I’ll have a child that will look like the man I lost and I won’t be able to even touch them.”

Dr. Cho walked over to your side and smiled down at you. “Hi, ____. I’m Helen Cho and I’m here to help you with your baby. I know you’re going down a rough road right now, but we need you to stay strong. Neither you nor your baby will make it to the end of your pregnancy at this rate.”

You took a ragged breath. “Do what you need to save the child. Thor will be able to take care of them.”

Helen tried to keep her face neutral before pulling Bruce off to the side, Sasha close behind. “This is going to be really difficult, Bruce. Thor picked the worse possible time to tell her about Loki’s death. She’s pretty much losing the will to live.”

“What?!” Sasha exclaimed. “Can’t you fix it?!”

“It’s not that easy. Bruce already hooked her up to an IV and we will take whatever steps we can to ensure the life of the child, but if the body is unwilling to help us there is only so much we can stop. If she gets too far along, we’ll have to perform an emergency C-Section to at least save the child.”

“Will the child live?” Bruce looked from you to Helen.

“It’s unsure at this moment. If this child is part frost giant that could prove some difficult factors. We are unsure if the dietary needs are different, the growth rate, or even how we’ll hold the child if it’s like what Bruce is predicting. Thor may be able to help, but if Jötunheim still exists, the child might be better off there.”

Bruce and Sasha became uneasily quiet. Sasha went from being a reluctant ‘aunt’ to your child to now facing the fact she was going to lose both of you. As much as she had teased you about dating Loki, she had secretly looked forward to meeting your child. But Dr. Cho was right. How could they possibly know how to take care of that type of child?

Dr. Cho and her staff continued to work well into the night running tests on both you and your child as well as trying to keep you up for longer than a few minutes. It was under the pretense to find out about your pregnancy, but the truth was they needed you to want to live. To want to save you and your child.

Come morning, the entire team was exhausted and no closer to finding a solution. “Bruce, I don’t know what more we can do. We’re still awaiting the test results, but as of right now we can’t find anything abnormal about the child. And ____ hasn’t changed at all, despite all our prodding.”

“Did you find out anything about her pregnancy at least?”

Helen nodded. “It sounds like it was a pretty typical pregnancy. No unusual cravings or complications. If we can get her energy level up it could be a typical delivery.”

Bruce opened his mouth but was interrupted by the compound suddenly filling with confused chatter. He looked at Helen and before either could respond, Nick Fury burst through the lab door followed by Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.

“Wh- what….” Bruce trailed off.

“Looks like that crazy son-of-a-bitch Stark pulled it off.” Nick smirked. Then he caught sight of you. “So what the hell is going on here?”

Chapter 4

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 4

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1813

Rating:  E

Warnings: Blood and Serious Injures, talk of past miscarriage and red room fuckery.

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 4

“We could use a healer over here!”

Clint’s voice had come over comms, and you looked around the area trying to figure out where ‘here’ actually was.  You eventually spotted both him and Natasha with a group of children, sheltering under a bridge.

You took a quick looked around, and ran out from your hiding spot, vaulting over a stone fence as you charged in the direction of Clint and Natasha.  Gunfire immediately broke out and you caught a bullet in the side.  It slowed you for a moment as a hot pain flared out and then died back off.  By the time you reached Natasha and Clint, the only sign that you had been shot at all was a hole in your catsuit and some already drying blood.

“Think this might be above your abilities,” Natasha said.  She was cradling a young boy, and when you moved closer she moved her hand showing you where their leg now had broken exposed bone.

“Fuck,” you cursed, crouching down.

“She said a bad word,” a very young girl said.

“She sure did.  And right now you all have special Avengers’ permission to say as many bad words as you know,” Clint said, as he loosed a couple of arrows. “Ready… set… go.”

The group of children all broke out into random cursing and you looked at Natasha.  “I’m gonna try blood.  Pray to Thor that we match.  Can you get that bone back into alignment?”

Natasha nodded.  “Okay, malysh,” Natasha soothed and took one of her lives out of its leather holsters.  “This is going to hurt a lot.  But I need you to be very brave for me and hold as still as you can.  And when we’re done, we’ll make sure you get home safe with your family.  I promise.”

He nodded weakly and she held the leather holster to his lips.  “Bite down on this, little one.”

The boy bit down into the leather and Natasha quickly snapped the bones back into place with a loud and gut turning crack.  The boy screamed into the holster and passed out. You took the knife that the holster homed and cut open your arm.

You had been part of the Avengers for over three years now.  One mission had turned into many and you had gone from being a new recruit to a full-fledged agent.  You settled into life at the compound and the memory of a time where you were scared and didn’t know exactly how you could use your powers to help people.

You had friends and a routine and you dated on and off and when you were off you would hook up with Natasha and Clint because they were just that little bit too hard to resist.  Especially when you’d just gone through a breakup.  You considered them your best friends and you loved their relationship dynamic.  They were hilarious together and their way of showing affection was so perfectly them.

Most of your missions were with one or the other or both.  The closeness had made you be able to work like a well-oiled machine together, being able to predict each other’s patterns and counter each other.  This particular mission was a big one though.  A small town in the Midwest had been attacked by domestic terrorists and the whole team had been sent out to stop it.

As your blood mixed with the boy’s, nothing seemed to happen.  You cursed the stupid limitations of your powers and you were just about to let your own wound close back up when you noticed the bones and flesh knitting back together on the boy’s leg.  You had to keep twisting the knife in your own wound to keep the blood flowing and your hand was beginning to shake from the pain.  As the wound closed you let go of the knife and your own cut rapidly healed.  Color returned to his skin and his eyes fluttered open.

“Thank Thor,” Clint sighed.  He turned back to look at the kids like he was planning what the next move should be and there was a crack from a bolt of lightning behind him, making him jump

“You can save the thanks for when I have actually helped,” Thor teased, playfully.  “Come, your extraction has arrived.”

A huge armored vehicle pulled up at the bridge and the side opened.  Clint ran to the side of the truck and began loosing arrows out past it, creative cover.

“Come, little ones,” Natasha said.  “Onto the truck.”

You and she herded the children into the vehicle, carrying the injured boy into the back and putting him on a stretcher.  When you were all safe inside, Clint climbed in and pulled the door closed behind him.

“Hold tight,” the agent driving called back.  Clint sat down on one of the benches as the truck took off much faster than you expected.

“How close are we to being done with this?”  You asked as a little girl climbed up into Clint’s lap and clung to him.  He wrapped an arm around her and held her steady as the truck bounced over the rough terrain.

“Captain Rogers is mounting an assault on the last remaining group now.  Shouldn’t be much longer,” the agent called back.  “You were the last group that had been cornered by them.”

“Thank god,” you sighed and let your head fall back against the wall of the truck.  You immediately regretted it, as it banged against metal.

You sat back up and watched Clint with the little girl.  She had calmed down and was gradually drifting off to sleep against him.

“Clint looks really good with kids,” you whispered to Nat.

She nodded.  “Yeah, he’s a natural with them.  I think because he is basically a giant child.”

You snorted and bumped her with your shoulder. “You were good with them too.  You guys gonna have kids someday?”

Natasha frowned.  “Can’t,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral, but the slight strain giving away her pain.  “We want to.  But… the Red Room did something to me.  Having children creates weakness, so they sterilized me.  But… not… I mean… I have been pregnant but it ended up in a late-term miscarriage.”

“I’m so sorry, Natasha,” you said.  If it was anyone else you would have wrapped your arms around them and let them be weak.  Natasha would rather stab herself in the eye than let that happen though, so instead, you leaned against her a little, hoping that your weight might be comforting and allow her to be strong.  “Have you ever considered adoption?  Or surrogacy?”

She nodded.  “Surrogacy is out, it’s something about the genes.  They have a self destruct in them.  We applied to adopt but were told in no uncertain terms that no one is allowing an ex Russian-assassin adopt a child.”

“That fucking sucks,” you said, not quite sure what else you could say.  It did fucking suck and you wished there was something you could do.  You weren’t used to hearing that crack of pain in her voice.  It was akin to seeing Wanda in actual tears.

Natasha laughed softly.  “Yeah.  It does.  I’d love to be a mother.  But I guess for me, that isn’t to be.  I have escaped what the Red Room did to me.  I’ve tried making up for it.  I send money to the families of my victims.  I save people.  But they will always have this over me.”  She sighed and looked over at Clint.  “He says he’s okay with it.  I know that he would never complain about missing out, but I hate that my past has taken this from him too.  When he called me to tell me he met a healer that day when he met you, I got a little excited.  I thought… I hoped maybe you could undo what they did to me.  But that’s not how your powers work.”

You shook your head.  “I’m sorry.”

She rubbed your thigh.  “Not your fault.  You didn’t do this to me. They did,” she said. “Just have to accept that maybe after everything I did, I have to just be happy with the ending I get.  I am lucky I have him.  It’s enough.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about the things Natasha had said on the way back to base, through the cleanup, on the ride home, and through the entire debrief.  Your powers couldn’t help fix what had happened to her.  Even if you gave her a full blood transfusion they couldn’t fix something that had been done to her so long ago.  You needed an exchange of fluids and it to be fresh.

Normally a surrogate wouldn’t work because whatever they’d done kicked in late on in the pregnancy due to genes.  But if you were the one that was pregnant, the issue wouldn’t be old, your powers would be here, correcting mistakes and potential health issues before they happened, and as far as fluids, they’d be soaking in them, and sharing your blood supply.  You didn’t know for sure if it would work, but the more you thought about it the more you were sure it would.

You thought about what it would be like having a baby for someone else.  It took a special kind of person to agree to put their body through that for almost a year and then to give that baby up.  It wasn’t for everyone and it would be hard, both physically and emotionally.  Clint and Natasha were your best friends and you might be the only chance they had to have kids together.  If you could give them that, you wanted to try.

After the debrief, everyone scattered to their rooms or apartments to sleep it off.  You couldn’t turn your mind off and so after half an hour of pacing your room, you went to Natasha and Clint’s apartment and knocked on the door.

Clint answered the door and looked you up and down, grinning.  “You didn’t get enough of us this week?”  He teased.

“I just… I wanted to…” You shook your head and took a deep breath.

“No offense, dorogáya,” Natasha said, coming over to the door.  “It’s been a long week and Clint and I just want to have some couple-time.”

“Right, yeah.  I’ll leave you to it,” you said, tapping your hands nervously on your thighs.  “I just… I wanted to say…”  You took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.  “Let me do it.”

“Let you do what?”  Clint said, putting his arm around your shoulder.  “Babe, what’s wrong?  You’re so worked up.”

Your eyes flicked between Clint and Natasha.  You didn’t know why you were so nervous.  This was a nice offer.  If they said no then they said no.  “Natasha,” you said.  “Nat.  Let me carry your baby.”

// NEXT

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 47

Bucky looked concerned as I approached the front door of Sarah’s house and I understood - I was pretty fucking worried too.  I HAD just heaved up everything that I’d been lucky enough to keep in my stomach AFTER tossing my cookies during the cookout the day before from one whiff of the full breakfast she’d thoughtfully invited us to.  Who wanted to witness a repeat of that?  Even if, by this point, I was empty enough to only be able to dry heave.  

Sarah held the door, having shoved Sam inside after telling him to get his act together.  I hoped he understood the warning to mean “don’t post the news about Bucky and Brooke to all your social media accounts” because I was pretty fucking sure that Connie followed his ass and - I felt cold and clammy by the mere thought of my best friend learning about my engagement AND possible pregnancy via a TWITTER post from SAM.  Shit.  

“Brooke?” Bucky’s breath was warm against my cheek, his voice quiet and laced with worry.  “You’re pale, sweetheart.”  

I managed an almost silent laugh.  “Just sending up a silent prayer that Cap there doesn’t decide to share our news before we get a chance to tell Connie ourselves,” glancing up at his face, I was gratified to see that he was losing a bit of color at the prospect too.  “You’re not looking so hardy yourself, Barnes.”  

“She’ll -” he swallowed so hard I was pretty damn sure that Sam could hear him before we crossed the threshold and got inside.  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Brooke,” I nodded, smiling as he kissed my temple.  “Even if I have to destroy his damn phone.”  For Sam’s sake, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that - but I won’t lie and say the idea of seeing Bucky’s strength in action didn’t give me a sharp twist of lust.  

The good news: I didn’t start heaving as soon as we walked in the house.  Actually the scent of the food no longer made me want to vomit up the entirety of everything I’d ever considered eating in my lifetime - before and after The Snap.  I wasn’t full on gorge hungry like I had been the day before either, so I almost felt normal.  ALMOST.  I was incredibly thirsty - for milk, juice, water - still hated the taste of coffee, so that hadn’t changed, but I couldn’t seem to get enough fluids in me.  

Sam watched me with a mixture of wide eyes and a smirk that had me on edge.  Bucky was watching him with a look that made me wonder how Sam wasn’t on edge.  And Sarah was spending breakfast watching all of us like we were ridiculous, but marginally entertaining.  

“Where is it?”  Bucky asked, when I got up to help Sarah clear the table - after waving his help off.  Sam looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but Buck just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him with a clenched jaw.  

Sam leaned back in his own chair and stared back.  “Where’s what?”  

While they had their staring contest/face off, I offered to wash up since Sarah had fed us, but she would only consent to letting me help load the dishwasher.  Both of us were listening for the inevitable collusion, but nothing happened, silence continued.  

“That’s not normal, is it?”  She was asking me?  I shrugged.  She probably had as much experience with the two of them together as I did.  “Should we -”  

I nodded, “Bucky can move like shadows and smoke, for all we know he has Sam unconscious and his phone in pieces right now.”  Sarah looked like she might want a picture or video of that, and I was thinking that having siblings might be the weirdest fucking situation ever.  

We found them still sitting opposite one another, tense staring contest still on - “Well,” Sarah sighed, “I’m SO glad that the two of you are acting as role models for my sons,” she shook her head and reached for Sam’s phone, watching him flinch, but he didn’t blink.  “Think you wanted to see if my darling brother was about to share your news near and far WITHOUT permission -” she handed it to me, and I grinned at her.  

“Hey,” Sam broke first, glancing at me as if I had somehow broken HIS trust.  “I would NEVER -”  I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head.  “OK, I there MIGHT be a text in there that I STARTED to type, in ADVANCE, so when you GAVE me the OK to send it -”

I snorted and Bucky sat shaking his head, frown on his face and disappointment rolling off him in heavy waves.  “Trust, Sam,” he pulled me onto his lap and held me close as I sat Sam’s phone down on the table in front of us.  “Is a two-way street,” he picked up the phone with his left hand. I watched as Sam’s eyes went so wide I worried they might pop out.  

“Buck, don’t make any rash decisions,” Sam got up and started around the table.  “I can delete the message,” he held out his hand.  “It was rash -” Bucky wasn’t actually closing his hand at all, just holding the phone in his palm, but Sam and I both knew that it wouldn’t take much, a tiny bit of pressure and that phone was dust.  “Just give me my phone,” his tone went from pleading to something akin to his Captain America commanding one and I nearly let out another snort of humor.  

Bucky squinted up at him.  “A preemptive text,” tilting his head so he was leaning into me, he shook his head and kissed me at the same time.  “To who?”  He asked, when he met Sam’s gaze again.  “Who could you possibly think you should get to tell before WE get to tell them?”  

“Torres,” Sam offered, a name that I vaguely knew from Sam and Bucky’s conversations on our drive down from New York.  “Sharon.” A name I knew very well, given that she stayed in OUR house.  “Walker?”  The last one was met with silence and tension so thick that I was pretty fucking sure Sarah could have cut it with a butter knife.  

“You wanted to tell WALKER that Brooke and I are engaged and we -” I nudged him and he sighed.  “MIGHT be expecting an addition to our family.”  I sighed.  “Walker?”  The incredulousness dripped so heavily that I wondered if I could SEE it.  

“OK, maybe NOT Walker.”  Sam rolled his eyes.  “I’m excited for you two,” his grin grew.  “I mean, Bucky, man - look at you.”  

I bit my lip to hide my smile.  Yeah, LOOK at him.  At peace, engaged, possibly starting a family - That was pretty fucking fantastic.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky’s voice had lost some of the irritation, ripped away by the truth of Sam’s words.  “You’re not off the hook, Sam.” He handed him the phone.  “Delete it, NOW.”  

We watched as Sam deleted the text - then sat around discussing what came next - meaning our return to New York and two doctors’ appointments for me.  One to confirm whether or not I had a tiny supersoldier growing inside of me - and one to meet Dr. Stephen Strange. 

“Dr. Strange,” Sam inhaled a HUGE breath and I waited to hear what he had to say on the subject.  “I have to admit, Brooke, I have experience with PTSD, but what Bucky told me about what you’ve experienced -” I wasn’t upset that Bucky had discussed it, not when I knew it came from a place of concern and love.  “Strange is probably the best person to sit down with.” “Why?”  It got very quiet.  “Guys, I know he’s one of YOU,” they both shook their heads.  “OK, so he has a vastly different fashion style -” Bucky laughed and Sam rolled his eyes.  “What makes either of you think that he’s going to have answers that a regular therapist won’t?”  

I caught the look they shared - the “should we share what we know, or should we let her see it for herself first hand” look.  “He doesn’t JUST dress like a magician, Brooke,” Sam offered, looking very serious given the discussion of a man who wore a cape.  “He really does have access to information that none of us do.”  

“And you really think that he might be able to -”  Bucky tightened his hold on me.  “I told you I’d meet him, Bucky.”  I looked into his steel colored eyes and felt my breath catch.  “I will.”  

“That’s settled,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together.  “When’s the wedding?” 

[aliynavenus]

DamiRae Fanfic: Vulnerable

Authors note/Summary: Takes place during the new timeline everything that happened in JT VS TT happened even Raven gifting Titus to Damien. Terra didn't die or betray the titans; she's part of the team happily. Also along the way Raven became very fond of Superman thinking of him as a father figure and a mentor. Trigon has now weakened due the help of Constantine's dark magic powers yet Raven still has him but now on a necklace since he isn’t much of a threat to her. Just wanted to clarify so there's no confusion i don't really want to focus on how trigon isn't much of a problem anymore, he just isn’t. keep in mind this is my first time ever writing a fan fiction story and writing in general anyway thank u 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

chapter 1: comfort

Damian walked into the titans conference room only to reveal the massive wreck that the previous day caused. Beast Boy would throw random little surprise parties after missions and this was like every other one. Red plastic cups scattered on the ground along with confetti after beast boy would pop them when the titans walked into the tower last night, loads of pizza boxes surrounded by random fluid that knows what it could be. As of Beast Boy and Conner, their bodies were being tangled up in the couch drool falling dramatically down their mouth. Donna and Terra passed out on the kitchen table literally on the table with red cups in their hand. Jaime has took a departure for a week to be with his family the day before, not attending this little surprise party which was a blessing for him. 

Tsk How could they be so foolish after a few drinks down their system. Damian shook his head heading towards the kitchen to get a water bottle for his morning training, not caring if he made any sound that would wake them up. 

“They’re on the kitchen table this time?” Damian looks up from the fridge door seeing a restless Raven rubbing her violet eyes with her palms. It was only 7 in the morning and considering today they didn't have training but had a conference til 2 o'clock it was rare to see her this early, usually she’ll be meditating in her room a little bit longer. Not like Damian knew her whole morning schedule or anything. 

“Yea, I guess whatever they drank last night hit them harder than usual.” Damian says, raising the bottle of water to drink, “Why are you up early?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, “I felt like making my tea first before meditating today,” Damian nodded looking at her, her hair has gotten longer a little bit passing her shoulders since the last encounter with Slade. The red crystal her father was trapped in now became part of a necklace that laid on her collarbone. His eyes traced down her body taking notice in her pajamas she wore. Her legs bare wearing a pair of navy blue shorts hugging her small curves that he would always notice paired with a rather large dark red shirt that hid all the perfections of her body. He never cared about the female body as to just comparing it to a distraction to please men yet Raven never used it for attention. She was pure whether or not she was the daughter of a demon. That's what she was to him, a considerate flawless untouched being that was real. 

“I’ll feed Titus right now you can go train to get a head start on everyone today, something tells me this hangover is going to kill them today.” Raven eyes their teammates feeling utter failure that the crime fighting superheroes at night are drunkenly passed out experiencing a hangover in broad daylight and might add underage too.

He looks down in her violet eyes, always being fascinated by them looking like a portal to infinite dimensions that could pull him in. “I appreciate it, I’ll take him out for a walk later today” Damian responds to her. She gives a small smile before turning her back to him. He had become less of a brat in his time with the titans but yet still kept his arrogant remarks here and there but it was nice seeing a change in him even if it was ever so slightly. 

He exits to the training room, activating the training system to a level higher from the day before's training. The system activates with holograms of criminals and little silver machines coming out of the ceiling to shoot red lasers at him to make it more realistic, and so he begins battling. 

It’s been quite some time that he and Raven have felt comfortable with each other, ever since Titus especially. Despite the bond that has been connected to them ever since Raven healing him with his fight with Jaime. He and Raven both knew they understood each other the best out of the team, they felt at ease with their presence. He never knew exactly when he started feeling attached to her, nor did it matter because that feeling of wanting to be closer to someone was never negotiated in his life. 

Damian grunts his thoughts cutting when the red laser slices the skin on his shoulder. The effect soon left him with a deep bloody long injury, yet Damian just went harder annihilating his acrobatics when running towards the opposite wall lifting himself to abolish the battling exercise into pieces falling to the ground becoming nothing more than a useless piece of metal. 

An hour later in the other room Raven was picking up the trash her teammates had caused last night with her magic. She knew Kori and Dick would lecture them if they came here with revolting pieces of trash everywhere. 

“Sorry to make you do this i could’ve helped you--ow” The girl with blue eyes remarked only to hit with a sudden headache when she turned her head too fast to stop Raven from picking up all the trash with her abilities.

“It’s okay besides magic, remember.” Raven lifted up her hand as dark purple magic appeared. In a quiet second all the trash was lifted from the floor and gone into the trash. 

“thank you again, so boy wonder is already up and at it.” Donna sips from her cup of tea Raven whipped up for her. 

“Yea he should be done soon.” 

“You should join him ya know training together, a touching moment to share, i mean hellooo sparks flying hmmm..” donna raises her eyebrow with her mouth being covered by the mug she lifted, “I mean come on Raven it doesn't take a genius to see you guys have a connection.”��

Raven let out a small laugh, “Yes a connection we do have,” she lifted her finger pointing to her head reminding her of the mind link. 

Donna rolls her eyes sighing as if she expected her to say that anyway, “A different one i mean,” 

Raven has never thought about Damian and her in that position before although she had to admit he was a sight for sore eyes. Puberty hit him more than the team expected, not to mention his shoulders becoming much broader along with his chest, his height now becoming a head taller than her, his voice became deeper, everything changed in appearance as for her, it was like she became small to him. 

Donna knew something was always between them; it felt like they had their own inside language in their own little way. Whenever they were with the team or on a mission they would exchanged glances and small nods as if it were a secret code.The team noticed but never once mentioned it to both of them in the room knowing damn well that damian would just oppose with an arrogant remark that would just lead to whole argument of back and forth protest. 

 “It’s not like that, we just feel secure with each other that is all.” she dipped her mouth to take a sip from the mug, “Just like you and jon” she quietly said with a hidden smirk. 

Donna’s cheek redden whipping her head towards Raven pouting, “Shhh he’s right there he has super hearing remember.” she whispers pointing at the boy who is still tangled up on the couch sleeping. 

Raven rolls her eyes, “Please he looks dead.” she scoffs tilting her head to view the boy “He might actually be dead considering whatever fluid Beast Boy made to get him like this.” 

Donna sighs lowering her tone “Still, it’s not the same thing either. Just because I like him doesn't mean he sees me that way.He just sees me as the sister of the girl his dad had a fling with. He’s already grossed out at the fact that his dad basically hooked up with my ‘sister’ at one point.” she lowers her head into her arms in defeat. 

“I’m sure he’s not grossed out. It just makes him uncomfortable knowing his dad has been with other women before marrying his mom and that women happen to be wonder women. I think you should keep trying, never know.” Raven smilies at the girl patting her head as a sign of support. 

Damian sees the two females chatting at the table or more like a miserable ball of Donna being pet by Raven. “What’s with you?.” he questions donna walking towards them with a small towel thrown over his shoulder to stop the bleeding from the wound he has just gotten. 

She sniffs, “Just some girl time. Hey did you hear about that new mission Kori has assigned for us?” 

Raven looks at her puzzled, “No. I thought she would come later today to tell us. How’d you hear about it already?” 

“She told me when we were on our way home yesterday. She thought I would take an interest in it especially, so she gave me a heads up.” 

“What is it?” Damian glared at her thinking what it could possibly be. There could be endless possibilities such as tracking down Prometheus once again or perhaps there could be a crisis in Themyscira. Either way he did not care what the mission could be as long as it benefited his combat skills. 

“It’s an undercover mission!” she lifts herself off the chair raising her fits, “Kori said that we're going to be going undercover to night clubs because of some new insights about something dealing with a new serum of something….?” she dies down her words acknowledging she doesn’t actually know what the reason of the mission is. “But! We get to go to nightclubs guys even when we're only 17 i mean come on how cool is that . Being able to dress up in cute little tight dresses, wouldn't that be fun Raven.” her eyes light up as if her dream mission was finally coming true.

Raven blinked, obviously trying to process what she said, “Uh it's not really my taste in missions.” Tight dresses? Getting all dolled up? It’s not like they never done undercover missions before but this was like stepping into a new realm into Donna’s world. It also meant she would have to wear something rather revealing to blend in but her more concern was that Damian was going to see her in scandalous clothing. He was going to see her out of her comfort zone, would he like it? Would her body even look good in it that he would take notice? What is she thinking of course not, he's used to seeing beautiful girls with voluptuous bodies at the academy. How could she compare.

 She sneaks a glance towards Damian in the corner of her eye. He looks pestered as if he was expecting a grand mission that would save human lives but instead got nightclubs? 

“Perfect. We’re going to a destination where people roofy others, drunks everywhere, with horrible music. That was your idea of an interesting mission, Donna?” Damian’s hand fell to rub his temples and bit back a curse before he caught the curious expressions of them. 

Raven shifted over to him “What’s wrong? Did you get injured while training?” immediately telling that something was wrong no matter how many layers he would secrete. 

Damian grunted rolling his shoulder to help ease the pain only making it worse when he grunted, “It’s nothing I got hit with a blast today sliced the skin above my shoulder,” he pulls away the towel exposing his hidden bloody ruptured combat injury, clearly needing healing. 

He saw Raven’s angelic eyes widen quickly putting the towel back on his shoulder holding pressure on the wound, “Come on let’s go to the infirmary so i can heal you.” Pulling his hand on top of hers when adding pressure to his wound, he nodded. Raven opened a portal, walking side by side, vanishing leaving Donna alone in the kitchen feeling like an utter third wheel in that moment. 

They sat down on the little nurse bed that stood in the middle of the room. Raven pulled herself close to him causing his knee to gently knock against hers as her body became close enough within reach to heal him . His body towered over, was he always this much bigger than her? Heat started to rise up her body flushing her cheeks with a small blush seeing his muscular arms close the sides of her hips. He looked down at her, seeing her long lashes flutter as she blinked. Oh how he wants her to look up at him to admire every perfection on her face. She turned her body fully towards him; it took everything in his power to not lean forward and just bring her so much closer to him. Her hands crept over his wound; he felt the fondness of her magic overrun his skin. Feeling it takeover the wound unleashing small sharp stings that he loved to feel. He closed his eyes, how he loved the insignificant bitterness causing a sense of pleasure run through his veins, he enjoyed it even more knowing this came from Raven. He let out a soft valuable breath from his lips as he felt the sensation disappear, damn. 

He clears his throat wanting to break the silence after his little incapable moment, “Thank you seems like you're doing that a lot to me lately.” he chuckles considering since he’s the only one who doesn’t have rapid healing abilities in the team. He rolls his shoulder again not feeling the sharp pain he once had. “Once you get healing abilities you’ll be my new sorcerer.” She gives him a soft smile. He lets out a laugh at her shaking his head playfully. She loved his smile. It was rare to see it genuine in front of the teammates, it might've been selfish but she loved that he shared this side of himself with just her. 

They sat still on the bed not moving, it wasn't awkward it was actually kind of peaceful. They both knew they didn't need words to enjoy each other's company. “This mission is going to be a pain don’t you think. It's already got Donna riled up.” Damian groans 

“Yea, males feasting on women. Gross.” 

“Especially females roofing people’s drinks.” They both look at each other snorting knowing they are referring to their own parents from their horrific ways. 

Raven sighed in defeat shaking her head “We’re going to hate this mission so much.”

“Yea we are.” their eyes met each other. The room fell silent and you could almost feel their heartbeat pacing at the same time within each other. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding as she admired his vibrant emerald eyes. She hated the effect he had on her not even realizing it himself. Their fingertips were practically brushing against each other, all he wanted was to keep her close, so fucking close. It pained him how innocent she appeared, how she could do the littlest touches, the littlest words she could say can concede him to make him do anything for her, and he will. Without breaking contact she felt his hand lift from the bed and slowly move towards her collarbone. Shivers were sent down her spine when she felt his finger tips delicately land on her necklace.

 “He doesn’t give you nightmares anymore?” his voice barely a whisper yet loud enough to break the silence in the room. She gulps hoping her didn't hear her seeing how flustered she already was, “N-no, he hasn't since Constantie ya know,” 

He nodded in response, his hand still on her now looking down at her chest, “I remember,” his voice and face expression changed stern looking down at her chest, “when I would feel your energy from the mind link. When I felt the negative emotions stirring at night all because of your father. Those violent destructive dreams yet all i was able to offer was staying with you the nights of your nightmares.”

Raven was terrified that he could feel her heart beating beating out of her chest. Why was he to bring this up now? It's been 2 months since those nights. She'd be lying if she said she didn't think about them but she did if anything she missed them so much. Those nights where he would come into her room cautiously questioning what was wrong, shaking her to wake her up only to be woken up by him hugging her. He stayed with her, made her feel safe. They were valuable memories she cared for. Even though all she ever wanted was for those nightmares to be gone she didn't realize those moments would have to become memories. Another selfish thing she had yet to add, missing him comforting her. He thinks he didn't do enough for her? He did more than enough he stayed with her, that was more than she could ask for. 

Raven carefully thought of her words, placing her hand on top of his that still layed on her collarbone, “Damian I’m more than grateful you stayed with me during those times. You offering to continue to be by my side is more than enough for me especially during those times. I’m happy you were there.” she genuinely smiled at him giving him a sense of comfort. 

Her smile. The most treasured thing he could ever lay sight on. The one thing from the very start that made him change perspective on his new lifestyle when he first came to the team. He felt like his heart just got pinched and stopped with her words, he felt a blush crept up but tried to keep it under control. He just wanted to bring his lips towards her, to let her know how much she means to him. His other hand lifting from the bed slowly crossing over him wanting to reach her soft cheek, he wanted her no, needed her. 

“TITANS! I have news on your new mission to come to the conference room to discuss please and thank you.” 

Damian’s and Raven’s bodies jumped in shock snapping their heads towards the announcing speakers to what they just heard their leader's voice come out of. Raven stands up first walking towards the exit, Damian already in the miss of her touch, “We should probably go.” 

“Right.” he follows her out the door. 

He could’ve had her right then and there. He would have made her his. Then again he was just a boy who has no idea of the concept of sentiment or romance if anything. He wanted her so bad it pained him not being able to hold her. Then again she wasn’t his, possibly never will be. 

Just teammate Just Teammates 

[nishithunder]

Fall (Kuroo x Reader)

He never meant to fall, and she never intended to catch him. - TW: mental health struggles, cursing - Part 2: It’ll be okay, I’m here for you - Masterlist

 ‘I don’t want to get up yet…’ Y/N thought to herself as she opened her eyes, locking on the ceiling fan as it spun around in front of her. Her alarm had been going off for the past five minutes, yelling angrily at her that she needed to go take a shower and actually, ya know, get the fuck up. But it was so hard...doing everything was getting so hard. A heavy sigh escaped her mouth, something that happened often because it was easy. It didn’t take effort to sigh, it might even be considered a staple of her vocabulary at this point. Toes hit the carpet, the first step to being a ‘functioning member of society’ or whatever the fuck. The alarm continued to blare from her phone, and she shut it off quickly, throwing the phone on to her bed. It was Saturday, why was she up before 2pm on a SATURDAY?

 Loud knocking came from the front door, pulling Y/N from the intrusive thoughts that were beginning to spread through her brain. The knocking continued, pounding against what seemed to be her forehead and she groaned. Again, it was too early for this.

 “I’m coming!” She called, shuffling from her room and towards the front door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and a yawn shoving its way out of her mouth. The knocking stopped, whoever was on the other side seeming content with her voice calling out to them. She opened the door, her eyes meeting with Kuroo on the other side who was smiling at her widely.

 “Did you forget that today was the first day of training camp or did you think I was just going to go without you after you reminded me to wait for you last night?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. Her eyes widened and she pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, groaning.

 “I forgot to be honest with you. Come in, I need to take a shower and get dressed and then we can leave.” Y/N told him, stepping to the side to let him into the house. Now it was his turn to be shocked. She was inviting him into her house now? After only having one actual conversation with her? Either way, Kuroo walked inside, slipping his shoes off at the door and watching her scurry off in the other direction, closing the door behind himself.

 The house was what he expected it to be. Clean, orderly, but eerily dark inside. Not that SHE was eerily dark inside, but she didn’t exactly seem like the type to like that much light. It was quiet other than the sound of the shower being turned on, and he sat on the couch, assuming that her father was away on business again and she was here alone. He pulled his phone out again, sending a quick text to Kenma to let him know that they would be there as soon as possible, that Y/N had just woken up and was taking a shower before they left. He set his phone down on his lap, looking around the living room. There wasn’t much in there as far as decor and pictures went, nothing that really stood out at least, until his eyes locked on a single photo that was sitting next to the television in front of him. In the photo there were two adults and a small child, assumingly it was her family. The man looked to be in his mid 30’s, not very old, whereas the woman did look younger, like she may have been 5-6 years younger than the man was. The small girl, Y/N, looked like she was only 7 at the time of the photo, and he realized she never did tell him how long her mother had been gone. Since she just started going to Nekoma recently, it was safe to say that since they moved due to her mother's death and her father's new job, that her passing was also just as recent.

 “Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice rang out through the room, catching Kuroo off guard and causing him to jump, eyes shooting over to her. He nodded quickly, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed that she had caught him mid zone out. Her hair was wet, hanging around her face as she rubbed a towel over it. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a plain red t-shirt, nothing special, but for some reason it took his breath away.

 “Yeah, everythings fine, are you ready to go?” He asked her, walking towards the door to get his shoes. She nodded, following him and grabbing a set of keys off the hook and an overnight bag near the door. Kuroo quickly realized that when he had shown up, he had set his own bag near the door outside, and it was still just sitting out there on the concrete.

 “Be careful, this complex isn’t the best.” Y/N informed him, closing the door as they walked out and locking it behind them. Kuroo’s ears heated up slightly and he chuckled, giving her a small smile.

 “I wasn’t expecting you to invite me in.” He admitted, reaching down and grabbing his jacket off his bag and handing it to her.

 “Here, just in case you get cold or something,” He told her, trying to sound as smooth as possible. Y/N looked at the jacket that was being held to her for a moment, before grabbing it and setting her bag down, slipping it over her arms and up her shoulders. It was much too big on her, his volleyball jacket obviously hanging off her loosely, but it was definitely comfortable. She grabbed her bag again, not noticing that Kuroo was now fully blushing at the sight of her in the jacket that he wore almost every day since he received it. 

 “Come on, we’re already late thanks to me.” Y/N said to him, shoving her keys into the pocket of the jacket and beginning to walk down the sidewalk, Kuroo catching up to her quickly. 

~Time skip to at training camp~

 “Could you taken any longer?” Yaku asked as Kuroo opened the doors to the practice gym, letting Y/N walk in ahead of him. Kuroo looked over at him, glaring a bit in return, Yaku now shrinking down slightly and turning back towards Lev who he had been talking to previously. Y/N looked around the gym, more than one team occupying the space around them, her chest tightening with every new face she saw. Kuroo could tell she was getting uncomfortable and he placed a hand on the small of her back, smiling down at her. 

 “It’ll be okay, I’m here for you. Nobody will hurt you while I’m around. I won’t let anything happen.” He assured her, feeling as she slowly relaxed against his hand and gave him a small nod. Kenma walked over to the two, looking down at his phone as he walked, only looking up once he was directly in front of them.

 “Hinata just texted me that they were pulling up, they should be here in a few minutes so that we can start practicing.” Kenma informed them, Y/N’s face instantly brightening at the sound of Hinata’s name. This was why she was ready to come, this was the reason she was EXCITED to be here. She would finally get to see her friends again after months of not seeing them and barely hearing anything from. That was all she wanted, she missed her friends more than anything. 

 “Until then, we can do some sets just to get warmed up. I need it.” Kuroo told Kenma, beginning to stretch. He looked over at Y/N, then pointed over to some chairs so that she could sit down. Though he didn’t say a word to her, Y/N knew what he meant, and nodded to him again, smiling a little before walking over to the chairs and sitting down, pulling Kuroo’s jacket around her a little tighter. She liked it, more than she thought she would. It made her feel protected, since it was so much bigger than she was, and she felt like she could hide within it. It also smelled strongly like Kuroo, cologne and maple, somthing that she didn’t exactly expect but comforted her in a way. 

 Y/N felt like Kuroo was a magnet, or had some type of magnetic force, because she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him. His movements were so fluid, yet precise every time a volleyball came his way. It was impressive, and almost mesmerizing to watch. She still wasn’t sure what his motive was, being so nice to her and seemingly always finding his way to her. What exactly did he want? Because Y/N was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to give whatever it was to him. She couldn’t help but feel like anyone trying to befriend her had some sort of ulterior motive, though that wasn’t the case with Kuroo. He genuinely just cared about her, but she wasn’t aware of how much or why.

 “THE SHOW HAS ARRIVED!” A voice boomed through the gym, Y/N’s head instantly snapping to the doorway to the owner of the loud voice. Tanaka stood, arms outreached, having just barged his way into the gym like he OWNED that bitch, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Each one of the members of Kurosuno’s team walked into the gym after Tanaka’s grand entrance, all seemingly as hyped up as he was despite the long bus ride they had just taken in order to get there. They hadn’t noticed her yet, and she didn’t know whether or not she should run over to them and tackle them with hugs, or stay exactly where she was at. What if they didn’t want to see her? They hadn’t made any sort of effort to talk to her, though she had texted them numerous times to stay in contact. Y/N was scared of the abandonment, and the rejection that might come from her going over to them as if she had never left in the first place. Her eyes scanned over each of them. Daichi and Suga stood behind everyone, pointing towards a different side of the court. Hinata and Kageyama were already starting with the arguments, causing Y/N to giggle, remembering all the fights and arguments between the two when she was still with them, and how much she missed them. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were setting down their things, talking amongst each other as usual. And then there was Tanaka and Nishinoya, always in their own world, but walking towards her. No. They weren’t walking, they were running towards her.

 “Y/NNNNNN!!” They screamed in unison, knocking the chairs down around her as they both tackled her in a hug. Her breath was once again caught in her throat, as if she suddenly forgot how to breathe. “WE MISSED YOU!” They continued, tears now streaming down Y/N’s face as she wrapped her arms around the two of them. She missed them, GOD, she missed them so much. Y/N pushed her face into Noya’s shoulder, taking in the all too familiar scent of his cologne from all the times he had been the one to console her when she was having one of her panic attacks. She turned, now pushing herself into Tanaka’s shoulder, tears continuing to stream down her face as she held them tighter.

 “You two don’t understand how much I missed you. I thought you both hated me.” Y/N whispered, trying to keep herself from ugly crying in front of the two boys. Noya looked at her, concern covering his face as he pushed her hair back behind her ear.

 “Why would you ever think that, Y/N? I’m sorry I didn’t always text you back, we’ve been cramming school work so that we could come here.” Noya explained, rubbing her back gently. Tanaka nodded, pointing his thumb back at the others.

 “Yeah, even Hinata and Kageyama studied harder for this. We were all really trying to get the extra practice in, we had been letting our grades slip for a while,” Tanaka told her sheepishly, expecting the scolding look that she normally would have given him before realizing that he was standing in front of Y/N, but how? “Wait, why are you here?” he asked in confusion, then his eyes landed on the jacket that she had wrapped around herself.

 “I’m Nekoma’s team manager now. Yaku convinced me.” Y/N told him, rubbing the back of her neck and giving him a shy smile. Tanaka grinned, ruffling her hair playfully.

 “We made you love the sport that much, huh, Lil Bit?” He asked her, the old nickname sounding like music to her ears coming from his mouth. She nodded her head, shoulder checking him gently in a teasing way. Kuroo watched the three, a smile on his face as he saw how happy Y/N looked, something they hadn’t seen since she started coming to Nekoma. Something about the moment seemed bitter sweet, despite the fact that this might have been what Y/N needed in order to finally come out of her shell. He just wished he could have been the one to do that. As Kurosuno’s team noticed what the commotion was all about, they began to walk over, excited faces as well.

 “Isn’t that Kuroo’s jacket?” Tsukki questioned as they approached, standing behind Y/N and straightening out the writing across her back so that he could read it better. A pale blush spread over her cheeks as he looked, realizing that if Tanaka and Noya didn’t know she was her captain, neither did they, which meant they didn’t realize that she also knew Kuroo.

 “Yeah, he walked with me to the camp this morning and didn’t want me getting cold. He lives down the street from me, he walks me to school every morning too, and home from practice after so that I’m not walking alone in the dark. He’s really nice to me.” She explained, seeming to ramble without realizing it. Noya smiled, placing a hand on top of her head.

 “I’m glad someone is taking care of you, at least.” He said, quieter than normal, as if he only wanted her to hear it. She was always closest with Noya, the two of them being polar opposites so it was a perfect match. Tanaka too, but he was more of a big brother to her, and would always baby her. “I know you’re not our manager anymore, but I hope you’ll still cheer for us.” He added, his eyes sparkling when they met with hers. A large smile was now on Y/N’s face as she nodded eagerly.

 “I’ll always cheer for you, no matter who you’re playing against or what you’re doing. You guys will always be my team.” She confirmed, barely out of earshot now from Kuroo who was walking towards the group to say hello. He stopped when he heard her words, his heart clenching tightly in his chest. That stung.

-

Tag list~ @yafriendlyfangirl @sokka-simp-420 @neodnyl

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (2/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

///

Two

The second time she wakes in an unfamiliar bed, it hurts a hell of a lot more than it had the first time, which seems like it wouldn't be the case, but it is.

The room is dark with the exception of the warm orange glow of the fire and instead of the screaming child, she hears only the fire crackling timidly. Emma sighs as she tosses her head to the side.

She supposes that she should be grateful that someone was able to help her, that she isn't forced to deal with a broken leg and scarring in her forehead or the residual chills from nearly drowning in a freezing sea in the middle of a storm.

But her rescuer is no Prince Charming. Far from it, actually. The guy is almost as cold as the ocean and he's freakishly dark and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, Emma pushes herself up into sitting position to examine her knee. He'd set it and the bruising is still there, but the bandage he'd wrapped around it to keep it in place covers most of the damage she'd seen for a few fractions of a second here or there.

Emma whips the blankets off of her and gets out of the bed, her feet slipping as they hit the hardwood floors.

She looks down at the outfit she's been dressed in, musing over how large and baggy they are, and after a glance around the room, she discovers her wet clothes still drying over the fire.

Emma forces herself to go to the fire so she can inspect the articles hanging above the heat.

Crinkling her nose, she decides to keep the sagging clothes on instead, wrapping her arms over her chest protectively. She's a little perturbed that he'd re-dressed her, that he'd seen her bare. Chills run down her spine at the mere idea.

With determination in her step, Emma opens the door, and walks out in time to hear shattering glass and a hiss, followed by, "Bloody hell!"

She walks cautiously, glancing around the room.

It's quaint. Very small, but livable, if you lived alone.

There's a tiny television sitting on a wooden stand across from the sofa. One wall is built with bookshelves installed inside and is full of literature. The fire is beside the television and there is also a lamp that provides low light to the sofa atop of a side table. The floor is covered in a foreign looking rug, one that might have been made by native culture, and she bites her lip as she considers where exactly the boat had thrown her off to.

They'd been on their way home to Maine, back from a trip to England, and the storm had been a mysterious surprise in the middle of nowhere. The ship may have gone down, she isn't sure. All she knows is that she was thrust off and found something to hold onto before she fell unconscious.

On the sofa, she discovers a pile of strategically placed pillows and blankets surrounding a lump that upon closer examination is a child. She frowns at the sight of him.

While he is asleep, he doesn't look very comfortable.

Emma glances over to the open doorway to where she supposes the kitchen must be, for that is where her Savior is cursing himself out in low tones.

The child stirs in his sleep and fusses, pulling at her heartstrings so that she leans in and lifts him to her chest, shushing him softly with a finger to his cheek.

Emma smiles a little, because growing up she'd always wanted a little baby brother or sister to play with, but her parents weren't able to conceive and they didn't want to adopt again, thinking she was more than enough for them.

Emma isn't sure where this little guy came from. She doesn't think there was a baby on the ship, but then again, she'd been kind of absorbed in worry about what she'd say to Neal come her return to Storybrooke.

She hears the clatter of boots on the floor at an ever-loudening pace and glances up from the child when they stop. He is standing at the door frame with a beer bottle in his hand, a tired look on his face that shifts slightly into confusion at the sight of her.

Emma opens her mouth for a moment considering what she should say before he speaks, gesturing to her with the hand holding the bottle, "You shouldn't be up on that leg."

Emma sighs and sinks down onto the couch with a sigh. "Better?"

His jaw clenches and he doesn't look happy with her, staying in the door frame for a moment longer before stepping into the room.

"Here. Milk for the child."

She stares at him with narrowed eyes before yanking the beer bottle from him. "I'm not here to be a nursemaid for some kid that you don't want to take care of. I don't know where he came from just as much as you."

The man gives her a thin smile as he lifts his eyebrows. "Well, I don't see his parents anywhere near here, so you'll do."

Emma gapes at him for a moment. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm naturally maternal."

"And just because I've brought you into my home, that doesn't mean I'm friendly."

She glares at him and he at her. He pinches up a fake smile and drops it as he storms out of the room again.

Emma rolls her eyes as she fiddles with the beer bottle in her hand, furious that she's even here. She'll have to leave first thing in the morning, get on a boat back to America and figure out whether or not her parents made it back yet.

She struggles to feed the child for a moment, because the hole doesn't work with feeding a baby, but she adapts, pressing her thumb over the hole just enough that he can access the fluid easily. She listens to him as he eats and watches for signs of his being finished, and when he is, she sets the bottle down on the floor and pulls him up to burp him.

The boots come charging back into the room and she shoots her eyes up to meet the dark blues that are the man's.

"I'll be out of your hair in the morning," she tells him.

He stares at her silently for a few long moments and shakes his head.

"Next ship to come through here isn't for four weeks." Emma furrows her brow, about to ask one of the hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but he interrupts, "Small island in the middle of nowhere, love. I'm afraid we're stuck with each other until Smee comes with supplies."

She wants to scream, because, well, he is the worst person she's ever met, and apparently he has very little respect for her outside of the fact that he wants to help her not die.

Her eyes go wide at his statement and she watches him as he crosses the room to put a bowl of something on the side table under the sickly orange glow of the lamp. The spoon in the bowl clatters upon being set down and she glares when he steps back to look at her.

"I feel some ground rules will be important," he tells her, eyeing her warily.

Emma scoffs. "Ground rules, really? How old do you think I am?"

He gives her that tight, mocking smile again and crouches down in front of her in the most demeaning way.

The baby gurgles out puke onto her and she doesn't care, because it's his shirt and she'll just change in a few minutes. Or maybe she'll wear it and smell up his living room for a while.

She lowers the child into her arms as he speaks.

"Rule number one. You will care for the child for as long as we're stuck together."

She gapes at him for a second and shakes her head. "Woah there, buddy. I told you I don't do kids."

He lifts his eyebrows as if challenging her and she copies him, but he doesn't break.

Emma sighs heavily. She’s forced into a corner here. If he won’t do it, or can’t, then who will?

"Fine. If you're not going to take care of him." She looks down at the bundle in her arms. "I don't think we should call him kid or whatever, though. He needs a name. That's my stipulation if you're going to make me take care of him."

She watches the man as he pulls his teeth over his lower lip for a thoughtful moment.

"Okay. What do you suggest?"

Emma wants to make him name the kid, but she realizes as she opens her mouth to complain that he would probably pick something ridiculous and she would end up naming it anyway. She looks back down at the baby and examines him.

"Henry." She looks back at him. "He looks like one at least."

The man nods. "Alright, Henry it is."

"You need to tell me your name, too." He stares at her with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I told you mine. He has one." Emma narrows her eyes. "Give me yours so I know which name to avoid for the rest of my life."

He chuckles darkly at her.

"Killian Jones," he says. "A pleasure." She rolls her eyes at the tone of his voice. "Rule number two: I have my set of tasks and chores and I will not be interrupted for any reason."

Emma sighs. "Fine by me."

Killian glances down at the floor. "You will sleep here, with Henry. There will be no complaining or whining of any sort, and you will stay here at all times. No venturing out onto the island on your own. Especially with that leg."

He gestures to her with his left hand… er, hook- how absurd is it that she’d managed to find one of the only people in the world with a hook for a hand?- and she sighs again.

"Okay, fine. Anything else you want to enforce, Captain Hook?"

He stares at her, gritting his teeth, and he gives his head a shake. "Keep out of my way and I think we'll be just fine for these four weeks."

She watches him, hand and hook, stand again, and she thinks for a moment that she's won something in the way he's moving out of the room with a vicious sort of walk.

It might be easier to loathe him if he weren't so ruggedly handsome.

She sighs as she looks down at Henry, giving him a tiny smile when he babbles a little bit. He does have a cute face and she kind of likes him, regardless of what she might have thought otherwise before.

Emma doesn't know what to do with Henry, so she just leaves him in his pile of pillows while she tries to figure out what the bowl and spoon Killian had set down for her are.

It's stew, she thinks, stirring the spoon around and taking a sniff of it. She decides that she's too hungry to protest his attempt at potentially poisoning her and inhales her food, listening to him slam things around in the kitchen.

She gets that he has a deal, because everyone always has a deal.

Hell, she has a deal. She doesn't like anyone getting close to her because if they do, she's afraid she'll hurt them, or they'll hurt her, and she cannot let that happen.

After she finishes the stew that tastes more like the can that it came from than anything else, she sets the bowl down on the table and winces as she pulls herself up to go change clothes.

She discovers clothes in the dresser of his room and throws the first thing she can find over her head, disregarding the dirtied shirt on top of the dresser for him to deal with. She takes the blanket and carries it with her to the sofa, where she turns the light off and somehow gets into a comfortable position with Henry at her feet.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, listening as Killian sits down at what must be a table in the kitchen, the chair making a loud screeching against the floor. He sighs and she hears a click, probably a beer, before the definite sound of him taking a sip.

Obnoxious man.

How she'll ever last four weeks with him is a mystery she isn't sure she's going to be able to live long enough to find out.

/

Killian sighs heavily as he pushes open the door to his lighthouse. It's on, the sweeping light blasting it's beams across the water and cutting through the foggy night, but he's not here to tend to the light that cuts through the darkness.

There is a wooden desk and chair that he sits at with a beer in hand. Perched atop the desk is his radio: his one and only method of communication with the outside world. Thoughtfully, Killian bites on his lower lip as he stares at it.

His supplies are running lower than usual and even with his emergency stashes of food and water, he's not sure he'll be able to keep them all alive for four weeks. Three human beings on one island, in one tiny house, had never been the plan.

Killian likes to think he knows right from wrong and that's why he's staring at his radio now. Within a few minutes, he could have Mister Smee well on his way toward him with blankets, food, and a plan for them to return to whence they came.

Determined, he grabs the radio and flips the on switch, listening as the radio garbles and hisses. If he does this, they'll both be home in no time, leaving him here all alone with his thoughts once more.

It's all he's ever needed, right?

For whatever reason, his chest tightens as he summons the courage to radio out. He can feel his heart begin to race, a throbbing swelling up in his ears while he waits for a reply.

Nothing. Silence.

If they don't leave now, he's stuck with them. He's stuck with taking care of them. Of allowing himself to feel something other than the emptiness he's clung to for these past few years.

Killian sits back in his chair. He takes his fingers through his hair and stares at the device. A wave of desperation washes over him, suddenly feeling as if he's being forced to do something he very much doesn't want to do.

He needs them gone. He can't keep them here.

So he calls again.

And he calls again.

And again.

Absolutely nothing.

In an instant, he is filled with rage. Furious, he grabs the radio from his desk and throws across the room, shattering it completely into pieces on the floor of his lighthouse.

Just as quickly as he'd lashed out, he realizes his fault with tears burning behind his eyes. Killian closes his eyes tight, willing himself to find his calm even if he feels like he's teetering over the edge of an emotional breakdown.

He tugs open the lower drawer of his desk for the rum. He needs something just a little bit stronger if he's going to make it through the night.

[hoodoo12]

Heated Clone Orgy (2/3)

Part 1

NSFW, PWP

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @dilfyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @ironmansuucks @janitor-boy

~

As his weight pressed her into the mattress with his teeth at her neck, she'd never felt so protected. Like he was claiming her for his own, like he was staying in this position to make sure it was his seed that impregnated her, and no one else's, and not because she had specifically laid out her needs for him.

She couldn't help raising her hips as best she could. When a cool wet tip of a tongue lapped at her clit she jerked with the spike in pleasure. Beej stiffened too, and she laughed, wondering what that bold clone had done to him as well.

The clone stayed behind them, drawing small circles over her clit with the tip of his tongue as another floated up behind Beej with a smirk, easing his own cock into her lover's ass. Beej gave a low groan against her skin as he felt himself stretched open on a clone, but the true purpose of this interaction made itself known quickly.

She was still held so tightly into the bed and with his mouth at the nape of her she couldn't turn her head see what was happening, but when additional weight pressed down on her she moaned again. When Beej started groaning and sharp movements accompanied by the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh rocked him into her, she clenched her teeth and gasped through them.

His cock didn't budge, locked inside her, but the bodily movements pushed at her hard. That, plus whatever contortion the clone licking her clit was pulling off made her pant wildly.

As his prostate was prodded by his clone, Beej's own shaft began to weep. The thrusts into him that the clone provided also moved him inside of her, though he held himself up enough to ensure that he didn't make it difficult for her to breathe. He moaned low in his throat against her and arched his back.

"Oh fuck, baby . . . you okay -- hahh! -- you okay with this?" he asked, crying out in pleasure as he was fucked into. 

Blood pounded in her ears and she could barely understand what Beej was saying; words were not vital at the moment, physical pleasure was.

She could only agree, with a desperate, "Yes, yes--fuck yes, please!"

The clone rutting into him as his cock throbbed inside her forced him to come yet again, seeping gushes of cool fluid into her with each inward press. His limbs trembled as he panted against her back, eyes sliding shut.

When Beej came again she felt it; a cool mass in her gut that made her feel like she was stretched full of come, like she was going to burst. It was a pleasurable ache that nudged towards painful, and she screamed into the mattress. Her fingers hooked into claws that dug into the bed linens. Every muscle in her body contracted, making her stiff.

The reaction wasn't sustainable, even as the pleasure didn't subside because Beej's cock was locked into her cunt and there was no place for any of his come to go, and the clone sucking her clit had continued as if that was their only job in the world.

Carmen spasmed, and sobbed, and fell limp underneath him.

As she fell limp, Beej waved the clones off, and they came away from the bed. The ones that hadn't come yet sat on the couch, and almost as though the whole arrangement were prepared beforehand. They entertained each other quietly, cuddling and stroking each other, becoming a pile of tangled limbs as they waited on standby.

Beej pressed a trail of gentle kisses over her shoulders and gave her a moment to collect herself. He reduced the size of his knot slightly, concerned that he might harm her staying so large for so long. 

"Hey sweetheart. You still hanging in there? You need a break, love?" he asked softly in her ear, leaning on her hips but holding his chest and shoulders up and off of her.

She tried to catch her breath but the sobs kept coming. As Beej lifted himself off her and some of the faint burning in her pussy faded, she nodded and picked her head up. She'd left a damp spot on the linens from her tears and drool.

"I . . . yes. I need a second. Please."

"You got it babes. Take long as you need, all right?" 

With a slight nod and a sigh of relief, Beej scooped her up under her breasts with his arms, pulling her back toward him as he levitated the both of them into an upright position. He crossed his legs beneath hers to support her legs, extending his length slightly as necessary to keep himself buried inside her. He sat down on the bed, holding her up against him and supporting her back. He gestured toward one of the bottles of water he'd set out for her and it floated over to hover within reach.

"Oh god," she couldn't help but exclaim as she was lifted and settled into an upright position against him, all without him removing his cock from where it belonged.

The shifting made her shudder and arch a little, creating new sensations deep in her gut. He'd lost some girth, and his come was leaking slowly from her. Her instincts didn't like that, but physically, it relieved some of the pressure inside and made it less painful.

He stopped holding her so tightly against him and stroked her arms and legs gently, nuzzling the side of her neck in an almost apologetic fashion. "Anythin’ you need different, Car? I wanna give ya everything you need, but I don't wanna go too far or hurt ya babes."

Gratefully, she accepted the water and took deep swallows of it. She worked to catch her breath as she wiped her face.

She murmured her thanks to him, reaching backwards to put her arm around his head to keep him close. She caught sight of his clones on the couch, spooning, hands on their own or each other's cocks, and she turned her face enough to say into the side of his head,

"I'm sorry I haven't paid all of them enough attention . . . This is so good, though, Beej--I'd never imagined I'd find someone willing and able to fuck the ache out of me. I love you so much, I want to be with you forever . . ."

Being in heat didn't just make her need to rut, it made her soft too. She'd just never been serviced enough during one to get to that stage; usually she was left unfulfilled and angry, and achy in a completely opposite way.

"I'm a little tired," she admitted. "I like this, you holding me, your cock is so fucking good inside me."

She rolled her hips just a little, for a little more friction as she told him that, and gasped.

Beej's hair burned bright pink, gleaming with luminescence at her words.

He almost missed her voicing how good he felt inside her, but her rolling her hips grabbed his attention even as a moan boiled out of him.  "I love you too, babes. 'N I'll fuck the ache out of you, into you, whatever you like as long as you want me to, love. I . . . I hope you always feel that way, darlin." 

His arms wrapped around her again tenderly as he spoke. A few tears formed on his bottom eyelids as he absorbed her words, 'I want to be with you forever' on a level that scared him as much as it made him ache with happiness.

"I'd like to stay like this for a while, okay? But tell me if you get uncomfortable. And. Um. Sometimes everything comes in waves, so I might want the hard stuff later too."

"Oh babes . . . we can stay like this as long as you want, I promise." he purred against her ear. "And if you want it hard later, then that's exactly what you'll get babes. I do aim to please." He chuckled softly as he rolled his own hips slightly, just enough to create a bit of friction inside of her.

It was comfortable here, atop him. He let her lean back against him; his hands never stopped gently caressing or scratching her sides and the tops of her thighs. He cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples, for variety, and kissed her shoulders and back of her neck. There was a spot that was sore from the bruise he'd marked her with earlier; his tongue swept it several times and she wondered if he'd actually broken skin. Occasionally she couldn't resist rotating her pelvis in a limited circle, just to re-stimulate the nerves in her pussy.

She tipped her head back onto his shoulder and kissed what she could reach: his neck, jaw, and ear, breathing how much she loved this. How much she loved him.

The soft murmurings and sounds from the clones filtered back to her. Carmen turned to head to look over at them. What she saw: them still in standby but slowly jerking themselves to maintain an erection, watching her on Beej hungrily, occasionally kissing each other, occasionally reaching to the one closest to them and stroking his cock. One caught her eye and held her gaze, his hand moving slightly faster at his groin. She couldn't help but open her mouth to pant a bit, watching him.

"That's hot. Seeing them like that," she whispered to Beej, kissing below his jaw again. 

Beej leaned his face against her lips as she kissed him, grinning at her observation. "Yeah? 'M glad you like it baby, got all of em out just for you. They're here for whenever you feel like you need ‘em. "

"One of them was fucking you, wasn't he?"  she asked rhetorically. "When you were knotted inside me? I wish I could've seen it--ohhh--"

A new strengthening wave of lust rushed her. Whether it was just the cycle or the mental image of her being fucked by him while he was being fucked by a clone, she dropped a hand to her pussy. Her fingers dipped further under, to feel his cock buried in her and gather some of his come as lube, before rubbing her clit. Still being supported upright, she shuddered against him.

He blushed slightly when she mentioned him being fucked in the ass while his cock was stuffed inside, knotted and unable to move. "Yeah, I'm down for pretty much anything . . . figured that's as good a way as any to milk my cock into that needy pussy of yours."

A low chuckle escaped him as he nipped the nape of her neck, rolling his hips a bit as she started rubbing her clit.

"You want a change in position babes? Wanna get fucked again, or you wanna cum on my cock?" he asked in a low purr as the nearest clone apparated over to them, on his hands and knees on the bed in front of her.

"Want my mouth on that sexy clit, babes?" the clone questioned, leaning forward to swirl the tip of his tongue around one of her nipples, looking up at her with a devious smirk. 

The other clones perked up a bit on the couch, looking over at the bed to see if they were needed, all with hungry eyes and throbbing cocks.

"Mmm, my needy pussy," she agreed with as much laugh as she could muster at the same time he was rocking into her and a clone had taken a nipple into his mouth. All that, plus her fingers on her clit made it hard to concentrate. The fire was flaring in her gut again.

So many questions, all designed for her. She had to at least try to answer.

"Yes, yes, and yes!" she moaned. That should cover most of them!

Her free hand caught the clone who had joined them by pushing her fingers into his hair. Although they were hard to tell apart, this one was just slightly thinner than the others. She pulled his hair a little to force him to look her directly in the face.

Both Beej and the clone on the bed with them smiled as she responded to them. The clone pulled off her nipple with a soft pop as she pulled his head back for him to meet her eyes. As he did, his pupils were in throbbing heart shapes just for her.

"I do want your mouth," she ordered. Then, tipping her own head back to address Beej, she said, "Lean back? I need to be fucked, I want to come--I want your cock and his mouth, and, and--"

"Anythin' for you babes." the clone rasped, body swaying after the brief gasp in response to her tugging his hair back to look at him.

At her instructions to him, Beej obediently shifted himself to lean backward. He opened and spread his legs, tucking his knees up between hers to part her legs as her pussy rested on his cock. 

Her fingers hadn't stopped on her clit, and the sheer imagery of the two of them doing what she'd laid out made them move faster. She pushed down hard, into Beej's lap and the first sparks of another orgasm lit up inside her.

Throwing her head back allowed her to see that the seven other clones had taken much more interest in her again. Under their scrutiny didn't make her feel ashamed or embarrassed; Beej's words finally rang true to her. They were here for her. Although four had already had turns in her cunt, the rational thought of them, all of them, being able and willing to fuck her through this heat made her gasp.

The realization spurred her orgasm and it hit her like a truck, and she cried out loudly, arching her back, her fingers heavy on her clit and her pussy clenching on Beej's cock.

His hands came up to her tits, gently rolling and plucking at her nipples between his fingers as she came on him, around his aching shaft.

The clone leaned down, the tip of his long and tapered tongue moving down to the base of Beej's cock to swipe along the edges of her entrance as she clenched around his original. He watched closely as she used her fingers on her clit, and only when she finally pulled them off and away did he drag his wicked little tongue tip up to her clit, circling it and then flicking over the head of it.

Beej began to thrust in earnest after making the knot in his cock small enough to allow him to slide easily inside her, bucking his hips upward and bouncing her just a little with the force of his thrusts.  As he did so, the clone continued to follow her clit with his tongue, slowly increasing the speed with which the tip of his slick muscle flitted across the tip of it.

Leaning back, supported by Beej, her tits in his cool hands, her legs widened by his own, she felt exposed in the best possible way.

tbc . . .

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

34. Ivory

Previous Trigger Warnings for mentions of underage/revenge porn, mentions of eating disorder Word Count: 8388

Between Grace making that post of her rapping along to Captain Hook, her saying "aye aye" to Simon in comments, and this photo of Simon's D print in the gray sweatpants, I'm starting to think he's packing a curve 👀

Simon Laurent "liked"

Commenter: He is! Did you never see the old sex tape?

Poster: The WHAT? No… But, wait… I thought that they dated in school. You mean like something that happened after that?

Commenter: They were in school, but it was online for the longest time before she snitched, so I’m sure somebody still has it out there…

Poster: That’s gross. I’m not that desperate to see it that I wanna look at some kids doing it. No thank you.

Simon Laurent “liked”

Commenter is blocked by Simon.

.

Grace was in the grocery store with her mother and brother, and Zasha, a white samoyed puppy that Mrs. Monroe had purchased from a breeder… to potentially train to be in competitions, and Zasha’s handler. Why did Mrs. Monroe bring Zasha into the store, just to have someone else hold her? For the same reason that the nanny was also there, tending to Montanus. “Because, that is literally what I pay them to do.” But… we’re at the grocery store and didn’t even have to BRING them! Grace didn’t argue.

However, she did wonder if she was suffering from some type of weird mid life crisis, or just a rich, bored woman whose husband was working more and more all of the time, despite supposedly getting closer to retirement. Then, she wondered if they weren’t doing so well. But, she kept those wonders to herself, as it would frighten her to know whatever the truth was if it was anything other than her mother did whatever she wanted because she could afford to. 

Plus, she wanted to get out of the house, and apparently that had been reduced to tagging along with Grace at the grocery store, in case she needed help. “You’re almost 6 months, correct? How has it been? Online, one would swear that you’re Diahanne Caroll in her prime. You’ve rarely broken a sweat. Is that for your fans?”

Grace shook her head and read the label of something before putting it into her cart, “I haven’t had any problems, except for eating way more than I used to and getting gas, but those calcium chews usually help with that and I bounce right back. You know, I’ve always taken really great care of myself, think things through and pay top dollar for the finest self care. I guess that the baby is pleased with their temporary temple.” She smiled at her mom and noticed the woman looked leery. “I know… you had a very rough pregnancy with me. Believe me, I remember this fact, but I haven’t been having that experience, personally. In fact… Did you know that I’ve gained THOUSANDS of new followers since they’ve seen that I was pregnant. Pregnant people have been asking me what I use for this and for that and I’ve been plugging my brand, since we’ve got the pregnancy line now. It’s been sensational. I’ve had a blast!” 

Grace had been working on a blog about her pregnancy, which she began with a video addressing all of the questions to all of the people who were not her. 

“Hey, Those That Are Graced!” She’d cheered into the camera, “Happy New Year! I know that I’ve been unavailable to reach out too, and believe me, I do miss interacting with fans and followers, but I am currently not working on my career, to focus on other things in my life. Just to touch base with everyone, I feel like we’ve had this discussion before and those of you who actually respect me would definitely not need it repeated, but there have been so many new faces of possibly unfamiliar followers that I am revisiting notes that I have in all of my bios… 

First, my professional life is one thing, my private life is another. I extend myself professionally, and over the past few months, even though I have not actually been working, I’ve still been spending time providing everyone with content. Please do not send messages, comments, or questions for me to any of my friends, and especially not to my family members, Hazel in particular. She is 12 and shouldn’t have adults bothering her for information that not only isn’t her concern, but isn’t your concern. She wants to be able to enjoy the limited hours of screen time that she’s allowed. That becomes difficult for her when people are asking her hundreds of questions that literally are related to her mother’s sex life. 

Second, my professional life is offered at my discretion, as well. Whenever there is product that I think you should try, I will announce it. If I’m not familiar with a product or no arrangements have been made for me to try a product or I’m unaware of a product… my comments is not the place for said product. That is including everything from your all natural care supplies, book recommendations, your demos, your dance videos… Like… I LOVE receiving those things, but whenever I open my comments back up, that is not where those things go. 

I have links for email addresses for avenues of business, entertainment, etc on my website, and if nothing else, my website is featured on every form of social media that I have. I am the person who goes through those emails. I am NOT the person who checks my social media messages, so you will never get a response from me through those and run the risk of me not seeing something if you send it there instead. 

Third, my spaces have boundaries and moderators to enforce those boundaries. Whenever you’ve been allowed to be a guest in any of my spaces or my child’s spaces, you treat that shit like Afropunk - “No sexism, no racism, no ableism, no homophobia, no fatphobia, no transphobia, no hatefulness.” And then, since I’m not Afropunk and I have even greater needs, and can’t believe I have to say this much else: No pedophilia, no inappropriate interactions with a minor, no incestuous ideation, and no nudity. My moderators are quick, but not perfect. Your fellow guests and neighbors in my spaces should never have to see jokes about my mother and I engaged in sexual acts together, or worse, my UNDERAGE daughter, and no - Hazel and I posting a dance video is not an invitation for someone to make comments that because she might be fluid in her movements that it is sexually suggestive and if ever we find one of those headass posts where you put a photo of my beautiful daughter up, say something obscene or rude or ask, “Thoughts?” Simon finds out your IP address, sometimes more than that and he doxxes your ass. Ask around. If threats of violence or suggestions of harm are given… he might show up at your house and I don’t know what to even tell you about that one, because I’m not at liberty to say, according to the lawyers.” 

She smiled, relaxed, unclenched her teeth that she realized had been clenched since she began her greater needs. 

“Fourth, leave Hazel alone. She isn’t going to add you, because she is not allowed to add adults that she does not know. If you follow her public figure pages, those are for her poetry, her brand, her rapping, her artwork, her theater program, and whatever announcements she wants to share with her fans about her personal life, which is usually vague and innocent. If Hazel posts that she had a great time at the premiere of some movie, that is not the place to ask her personal questions. The place to ask her personal questions is nowhere! We don’t have a space created for strangers to ask her personal questions. She sometimes will be allowed to grant an interview, in which she will answer a professional about appropriate questions that have been approved.

Fifth, shut up about Simon! Shut up about Simon! I swear to you… In the past few years that Simon and I have been in communication and the ones that we’ve been in close communication, I KNOW that you realize that we are communicating, but that falls under my private life, which I have not created a space in the public for.

Now… you may speak with Simon about whatever things he speaks about in his private life, I can’t control that, but what I can control and do control is what he will or won’t say about me, even in HIS space. Yes. I got it like that, and what will happen, is Simon will be seeing this, and he is very good at remembering details and he will memorize everything that I’ve said here and he will respect that and enforce it, even in HIS space. 

Which leads me to my last thing… There’s a lot of Esmoroth fanfolk in my spaces now and you all act a certain way in your little Esmoroth corner of the Internet… but in here, in Grace’s space, you better act like you’ve been tossed to the feet of the Idol Princess when her pheromones are igniting the internal flame of servitude. Because, we stan the Idol Princess in this space, and you’d better act right.”

After the release of the 3rd book and return of the Idol Princess aka the Future Queen, several fans were disappointed and had called Simon out for “pandering.” But, several MORE fans came around. He was competing for top spots with the YA novel greats after the 3rd book. But… that also meant more fans to be in Grace’s business. 

Her New Year’s announcement remained pinned at the top of her page and the next post was text, “Oh, yeah. Last but not least, you may have noticed that I’m pregnant. I’ll be featuring some of my favorite findings on my maternity journey here, so please stay tuned if you’re pregnant, expecting, or planning, for what I think and hope will be some helpful tips for your journey!”

Most of the Esmoroth fandom didn’t like her very much, but they also “just couldn’t stay away. Aside from the Grace in Maternity blog, she still didn’t have social media open for commentary, though she did sometimes pass through Simon’s or Hazel’s comments and engaged a little bit with them. She pinned the video to other sites and then just didn’t really visit them again much.

“I could barely walk whenever I was six months pregnant. I had the finest of everything, too,” Mrs. Monroe broke into her thoughts. “Then again, I had what they now call an eating disorder for several years. I… wasn’t completely… well whenever you were announced…” she looked guilty, like she did whenever she faced her own failures as a mother. “We had to get a 24 hour nurse to keep me… healthy. By seven months, I could hardly get out of bed.”

Grace furrowed her eyebrows, “Mom… you’ve never told me that you had an eating disorder. Did you ever get help for it?”

“Help? Oh… like… whenever I had to be rushed to the hospital multiple times? Yes. I got help.”

“MOM… Did you ever heal?”

“Wait, are you asking me if I have disordered eating now? Heaven’s no, Grace. I was trapped with your father by the time you were born. I eventually realized that I had to be more… alive and well than I did flawless. We hired a nutritionist and personal chef.”

“Mom… a lot of people need psychological help for something like that.”

“And I come across to you as ‘a lot of people’? Hmph. It’s pathetic enough that I allowed myself to be so weak. I wasn’t going to beg someone to give me the strength I needed.”

“That’s not what it’s like at all…” Grace cupped her mother’s face and said, “There may be things that people need to help you with, Mom. That doesn’t make you weak or whatever else you’ve convinced yourself of. It didn’t make me weak when I needed to get help. It doesn’t make Hazel weak when she needs help…”

Mrs. Monroe waved Grace’s hands off of her face, “As long as you’re fine, have no other concerns.”

“Mom…”

“Were you done with the shopping?” Grace sighed and continued moving. 

.

Simon was pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. Several of the message boards, every one of his social media platforms, and even at least one of Hazel’s. He’d taken her devices away, but now she was angry and he certainly couldn’t find the words to explain beyond, “You can’t be online right now.” She was scribbling aggressively in one of her paper journals, and fuming. They both were fuming from different but related reasons.

Grace came in with her little shopping entourage and Hazel rushed to her, furiously. 

“Your BOY TOY took my devices DURING screen time and REFUSES to give them back!” Grace’s eyes went wide and she turned to look at Simon, who was pacing and didn’t even seem to hear the accusation, notice that she came in or to see Monty. Something was absolutely wrong here. 

“Help get the groceries and I’ll get your devices, okay?” Grace said and cupped her chin. Hazel was still breathing heavily as she stormed out towards the groceries and Mrs. Monroe settled on the couch. Grace took Simon’s hand and he was startled by her sudden touch. But, the moment he realized it was her, he let out a deep breath and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Hey. Let’s go talk, okay?” She suggested, rubbing his back. He nodded his head, but didn’t move from the spot or lessen his hold on. She squirmed a little bit and said politely, “Oxygen, Gray Eyes..” He let up and rushed out of the room. Grace followed and watched him flop on the bed and cover his face with his fists. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We’ve been doing SO well…” He said, shaking his head. 

“We have.” So, this is something that he did wrong? “And the only way that we continue doing well is to be open and caring with each other.” He slicked back the wild hairs that weren’t pulled into his ponytail. He appeared to be in a lot of pain, but she had to get whatever this was settled. “Should I go online? Will I see what happened, if I do?” She pulled out her phone, mumbling, “I’m guessing that’s why Hazel’s stuff was confiscate-” He snatched the phone from her hands and she let out a yelp, both at the audacity and the fact that she didn’t even see him get up. 

“No. I have to tell you. You can’t find out on the Internet. SHE can’t get on. She CAN’T!” 

“Why can’t she? Because, she’s pretty pissed and it IS her screen time…”

“Because, the internet is relentless and unkind, and she’s too young to have to deal with how much. Not today. She’ll… I’ll… give her extra time once it's died down.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Simon.”

He frowned, “Someone brought the tape up.” At first, she was confused. Was this something about the movie? Why would he be so upset as to take Hazel’s… “And it’s recirculating again. I’ve been reporting it and fans have been reporting it and it gets taken down, but more and more people have seen it now and it’s just… too much. I don’t want her to run into it…” NOW, she understood. That tape… which… technically… it was done with a webcam, so it was never a tape, it was a recording, but… “I saw it again… not watched it, but you know, saw a portion of it whenever I was reporting it… God…” He sat down on the bed, “You’re a kid, Grace. You had the rounded face and everything…”

“Ummm… You’re a month and a day older than me, Dude.” she said, sitting down, trying to pretend that she was more calm than her heart was allowing. She could barely breathe, thinking about the feelings that just mentioning that used to bring up for her. She wasn’t sure how she might react to seeing it come up somewhere. But, maybe she should try…

She gently took her phone back, despite his struggling. One stern look and he let it go, realizing that she was determined and he was probably already in a lot of trouble, if something had been triggered. She nodded, “Yep, looks like a few people have tagged me, asking me if I saw that somebody posted it…” She went to the video and he clenched the bedspread, moving his legs uncontrollably and looking straight ahead. “You know, a lot of people used to say that you couldn’t see your face in it, that it was out of frame, but it does come into frame a few times…” she said. She paused, “See?” He shook his head. “Simon, you’re not even gonna indulge me a little bit at a time like this?”

His frown deepened and he took another long breath. She was right. SHE was the victim in this. The least he could do was take a look at his disgusting handiwork. He saw himself and he recoiled. “You were a kid, too,” she said. “Sure, at the time, this hurt more than anything my brain can recall. But… I do know, as a grown ass woman, you were wrong and also were a child. Both of those things can be accurate.”

“We’re only a few years older than Hazel, there. If some kid did something like this to her… I would…”

“I would hope that you’d remember that you were their age once and just as bad.”

“Is… is that how you would react?”

“Oh, hell no. I’ve never done anything like this. I’d kill that fucking kid. But, you would have to be the adult that fucking pulls me off of him…” She laughed and scratched at his beard, “But, nothing like this will happen to Hazel. She’s a good judge of character and we know all of her friends.”

“Your parents knew me too, and I think that they’re pretty good judges of character. Your mom at least. She always knew that I was rotten.”

“No she didn’t! She knew that you weren’t rich, and in her head those two things were the same thing. She knew that you were controlling, and she thought that I was going to sacrifice myself for you, but she didn’t think that you were going to straight up try to assassinate my entire character.” He looked away from her, “And NOW, you are very diligent in making sure that you aren’t crossing any lines, with me and with Hazel, my mother, my father, and I think people in general. This wasn’t long enough ago that it’s not hurtful to think about… but it was long enough ago to not beat yourself up over. But… It is a burden that you designed. So, it’s only right that you explain to Hazel exactly why she shouldn’t be online right now.”

Hazel took it so much better than she had taken him taking away her computer and phone. “Are you serious? I’ll just avoid social media. You KNOW I don’t wanna see anything like that, myself, but I already knew that it existed out there somewhere.” She shook her head, “I don’t like the way you look with clothes ON, think I’d run the risk of seeing you without them?” 

Grace suggested, “Is there anything else you want to say to him? Maybe about how you broke the news to me when I got home?”

“Oh..” Hazel flared her nostrils and rolled her eyes, “Sorry I called you Mom’s Boy Toy… You kinda are, but I shouldn’t say it…” 

Simon laughed, mostly because he was relieved that she wasn’t scarred by him having to talk to her about this video resurfacing. “You kidding? I’m gonna put that on a t-shirt.”

“No cap? Because I have SO many where that came from.”

“We’ve gotta brainstorm.”

“Simpsona T-shirts can be your new thing…” And just like that, Grace watched them be best friends again. Hazel could get mad and stay mad for a long time, but she didn’t like to argue, so even whenever she got mad, she tended to stay to herself until she wasn’t. The two of them left to go sit on the swing set outside of the house they were renting, and Grace sat by her mom on the couch. 

“I don’t even want to know what that was about.”

“Cool, because I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

“You don’t have to. One of your “boy toy’s” fans will.” Grace laughed and then threw her head onto her mom’s shoulder. The woman gasped at first, taken aback by the show of affection, but then placed her hand on Grace’s. “You’re a very good mother to both of them. You’ll be a good one to that one too.” she pointed her free hand at Grace’s belly.

“Did you just…?”

“Come on, you’ve been raising yourself a man since you met him and I’ll stand by that forever. Might get it engraved on my headstone.”

Grace cackled, “I absolutely AM NOT raising him!”

“He is literally a life sized puppy that went through a rebellious phase where he kept biting you!”

“Well, I finally realized that I have the power to curve that behavior… and trust me, Mom… It’s not something you’d do with somebody you’re raising.” Grace stuck her tongue out.

“Get off of me you scoundrel!” Her mother joked. Grace just laughed and held on tighter. The woman put her arm around her. “Are you okay, Darling?”

“Whenever I was hurt or scared as a little girl, I was more afraid of admitting it to you and Daddy. I would be more hurt by the thoughts of how little you would think of me if I openly showed imperfection. Not feeling that way took a long time and a lot of work. So, now, if I have a hard day, I’m not too proud to lay on my mommy and say so.” She looked to gauge her mother’s reaction. She was always speechless whenever Grace got emotional. 

She’d never learn past those suppressing ways and it amazed Grace that her mother didn’t realize how much her and Simon were alike in that way. Simon had to work really hard at it and her mother was too proud and pampered to put in such effort. But, whenever Grace booped her nose, the woman’s eyes flickered amusement, ever so slightly. Now, she pushed Grace off of herself and opened her arms to receive Montanus. “Take a photograph of me with my children,” She told the nanny. “One with the two human ones, then we’ll add the new fur baby…”

.

She still hadn’t made any announcements about her status with Simon, nor had she spoken about her pregnancy outside of the maternity blog by the time Valentines’ Day rolled around. But, one thing that she did was allow for Simon to share maternity photos. That was her “gift” to him. 

There. Were. Tons. 

Simon took photos of everything. He had a copy of every ultrasound. He had an electronic journal of every detail that came up. So, whenever he posted the album “Countdown to Ivory’s Arrival,” he had more photos than most of the fans were probably going to look through. Therefore, he left many of them private, with only close friends able to view, and the ones that were public were his favorites of the candids of Grace being pregnant and gorgeous, some of the ones from photoshoots that she would post, and the professional maternity photos that they had taken so far. They took some each trimester, as a family. 

The ones at her three month mark were taken in New York, early November (around their anniversary, whenever he was in town. They had fall colors and all three of them were absolutely stunning. Hazel was impressed with how well that Simon cleaned up, so much that whenever he showed her older photos of himself, she thought he was a different person. She had no idea how right about that she was. Simon being both subservient and also a mega diva himself was absolutely salivating every time Grace did something, but also, it was him who insisted, "We have to have a photoshoot each trimester, each with a different theme.” She agreed on the trimesters, but wasn’t feeling the theme part so much. She told him that they could simply have the season be the theme.

They had three changes of outfits for each set. Grace had a gown made much like the one that she had worn to the fall festival in 9th grade (the one that the Idol Princess’ gown was very heavily based on, the one that Simon had taken photos of her in, getting her first beauty deal underway), one that Simon saw her in and immediately began crying. “You’re… gonna ruin the photos,” Hazel told him. 

There were candid ones of him crying. Her favorite was one where he was crying, Grace was trying to comfort him and Hazel dropped in front of them, bombing it with a prison pose and her tongue out. She had on a yellow pantsuit with fall leaves in her hair, her signature look being wearing leaves in her hair. Simon’s yellow suit was similar to hers, but way more expensive and the red accents, instead of the orange ones that Hazel elected. 

The orange outfits were Hazel in orange overalls, Grace in a romper and Simon in a jumpsuit that Hazel insisted was “the most expensive prison wear in the world.” The red ones were regal matching dress attire, Grace in a two piece dress to show off her belly, Hazel in the same floor length evening gown, but one piece, and Simon in a red suit, made of the same material. Hazel’s hair was down and flowing. Grace’s was gathered up, with most of her afro pulled forward, cascading out of the jeweled red head dress she wore, and Simon’s usually (these days) flowing hair was pulled into a ponytail, with the undercut showing. He was generally self conscious about it, but Hazel put little red jewels over his scar, so even though he was still anxious about his hair, he was proud of her accessorizing enough that he wanted to confidently show it off.

The six month ones were taken in January, and done in all white, which Hazel said, “Looks fabulous on mom and me, but you look like the abominable snowman,” to Simon, on the day of. They were in California by that time, but took a little trip to the mountains because the Monroes had property there that Simon remembered had beautiful scenery that he wanted to have family photos at. 

They did all white shots and winter blues. 

Whenever Simon posted them on Valentines’ Day, Hazel joked in the comments, “I still say that we need to crop your face out.” 

People loved the maternity photos, noticed that Grace did NOT have any on her page and she didn’t comment or react to any on Simon’s page. (Yes, these people pay entirely too much attention to the lives of celebrities that they didn’t even KNOW), but someone did some investigating and found Grace’s pregnancy blog. So… even though that was mostly a completely different following, others stormed into the space, thinking that FINALLY, some place where Grace has actually been interacting and will interact with us. She literally ignored anybody that wasn’t asking about helpful tips for their own pregnancy or giving her helpful tips and the title changed from, “Grace in Maternity” to “Y’all Can See This is a Mommy Blog, Right?”

A few people were seething, but funny enough, Grace’s faithful mommy following were more along the lines of, “Wait… You’re FAMOUS, Monroe Mommy???” After that, she had a hoard of moms check out her other life. She enjoyed having more of them in her fan base, though she also had a lot of ones who had always known being like, “Y’all seriously didn’t know Grace Monroe?” and her favorite quote ever on that blog, “Hell, her album is the reason I AM pregnant!!!”

Meanwhile, Simon had been less likely to play around with any of the fans ever since the video thing. He’d made that very clear, and then sort of stopped interacting with them. He didn’t even go through to like people’s comments anymore. Some of them would say things like, “Whoever resurfaced that video, if we find you, it's on sight for making Simon hate speaking with us!”

Sometimes a person would “Lol” and contend, “He’s too busy working on the Esmoroth movie. He’s not here because of the movie not some fuzzy sex tape from years ago.” 

Those were the only ones that he’d respond to just to say, “No, they’re right,” and nothing else. 

He wasn’t as busy on the Esmoroth movie as he intended to be. He was working on more tech and models for the movie than any other movie things. For one thing, the script was being adapted, and casting was hard. The casting director wanted to get a different type for the Idol Princess, but Simon was extremely firm and clear that the Idol Princess HAD to look exactly as described in the book. “There are parts of the story that are directly related to her looking the way that she does.”

“We can adjust those parts,” the director had said, hoping to appease him. 

“The Idol Princess looks like my childhood best friend. Her look is non negotiable,” he had told them. They didn’t believe in non negotiable, apparently, because the girls that were being considered were all much too light. Whenever Simon had rejected them all, they informed him of those girls’ filmographies and their agents and other people said agents represented.. “Maybe they have that type of record because people are hiring them for roles that were meant to be for someone else. Just… give me all of the call sheets for girl characters who auditioned.” 

He went through and disqualified half on looks alone (not to say that they weren’t pretty children or whatever, but they didn’t look like the Idol Princess). Whenever he had the stack of dark skin girls, he went through, checking their filmographies and auditions.

He asked Hazel for her opinion and she suggested a name that he recognized from his rejected stack. He pulled it back up and looked at the light skinned girl in the photo, "Do you mean this girl, Hazel?" He wondered.

"Yes! She's a really good actress!"

He furrowed his eyebrows and pointed out, "But she doesn't look like the Idol Princess. The Idol Princess has dark brown skin, tightly coiled hair, full nose and lips, and dark brown eyes. This girl has none of those things."

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, "She's really good though."

"Well… maybe some of these other girls are really good and people just don't want to see them in stuff like this." 

Hazel frowned and she asked, "Are you accusing me of favoring her because she's got features like mine?"

"No. I'm just saying that she doesn't look the part. You're usually really good about that kind of thing, Haze."

"Well… I don't know anybody in the age range that looks like the description of the Idol Princess." She folded her arms, "But like you said, maybe that's because people take the easy way out and just get the pretty Black girl that they know of to play a part instead of being true to characters. I've definitely read more books with dark skinned girls than I've seen in movies…"

"Here are some of my choices," he said and spread the sheets out before her. "I think this one has the look, but I think this one had a better audition. BUT, she was auditioning for a background character and this one was auditioning for the Wicked Heiress. Maybe she just didn't have that role in her and should audition for the Idol Princess, so we can know for sure.."

"I think that maybe they should all audition for the Idol Princess again. What if they just didn't believe it would be realistic that they'd get offered a job like this, especially if bigger stars are being considered? Sometimes, I have to talk kids into auditioning for our productions because they're worried that the same actors will win out anyway."

He gave her a side smile, "I think you're onto something, Haze."

.

Hazel sent out the invites for Grace’s baby shower. Unfortunately, all of Grace’s friends lived elsewhere, so it would be an expensive trip. Fortunately, they had money, so the Monroes could foot the bill for everyone who didn’t just have the means to travel across country for an event. 

Meta flew in with Damita from New York the previous week, but he made some business plans to collab with a Cali artist that week, so he was working, as well. Meanwhile, Damita and Grace were spending the week reconnecting and chilling. Shana and Iza came in from Atlanta the night before. Gharrisahn was already in LA for work, so she would swing by the day of. Grace’s parents arranged for Mikayla and Tulip to come down. They were in coach on the same flight that Lucy’s and Lindsay’s moms and they were in first class, so they’d all meet the driver upon landing.

Hazel had on a headset, along with Simon’s assistant and Grace’s assistant, because Hazel had arranged the shower and she wanted to make sure that things went how she meant for them to. 

Grace was in a custom made gown that was inspired by Book 3 of Esmoroth and Simon had been at her side simply staring at her for the entire time she had it on. It had been a surprise. A very nice one that he apparently loved. She hired the costume designer for the movie to make her several pieces, but this one was like the one that the Idol Princess resurrects in. Grace was now hip to the lore enough, mainly from paying attention to Hazel’s ravings, and her and Simon’s movie chat. 

For the most part, Grace didn’t want to have a shower. All of her friends lived elsewhere, the baby was due sort of close to Hazel’s birthday and she still wanted Hazel to be able to have a party - which she doubted would be able to happen if she waited until after they were born, so she wanted to have Hazel’s birthday party, INSTEAD of a shower and Hazel said, “How about you just worry about slaying everybody in your peak perfection pregnancy, and I’ll take care of the shower?” 

With the financial backing of GlamMother, her dad’s big brain, and her own penchant for moments and aesthetics, Hazel tended to be very good at making things come together. She even produced some choreography (Doereography, as she called her pieces), for her and her mother to perform, because, yes, Grace was good and swollen by May, but she also could still do mostly everything that she was doing before with that additional bundle. It did throw her balance off a little and she couldn’t lift Hazel at the moment, but she kept up with every step of the Irish step dancing that Hazel put into the choreo, and she absolutely could still nail every Haitian movement. Hazel wanted to make a birthday choreo with ties to her heritage, and Grace was always very supportive of her doing anything that made her feel connected to her identity. 

For good measure, Hazel looked up cultures from Grace and Simon’s heritages too. She was most accustomed to American jazz/hip hop and ballet. She started at 6, with Grace and when they were apart, Grace used to make instructional videos and post them just for Hazel. Whenever she was 10, she started to tap, and all of the other things in between, she and Grace perfected, and whenever she really wanted to nail something, they’d call in a world class trainer. 

Hazel felt that a world class trainer was needed for the baby shower. Grace very much so disagreed. So, Hazel got her grandmother to get them. “Next time, simply come to me first,” the woman had said. 

Hazel opened up with one of her raps. Her mom’s friends (as always) got their entire lives whenever she would flow - which was possibly the reason that she honed her talent, if she thought about it - and even Simon would be into the groove with things. He didn’t have the best rhythm, but he certainly always looked way taken up with her talent. Grace bouncing around with a round belly was everything in the world to Hazel, and when she was done, she waddled over to hug her. 

They played games, did some traditional shower things and some new things too, that Hazel consulted with celebrity event planners for. When it was time for gifts, Grace froze, looking at the way that everything flowed. It was like her 16th birthday again and she felt like she might have a panic attack. “Grace… It’s okay,” Simon said. She looked at him on the other side of the tete a tete and he smiled, “I learned my lesson. This is straight up simply tribute.” He kissed her on the forehead and she calmed down to receive gifts and cry about everything, but manage to not look ugly doing so, because no matter how comfortable she had gotten over the years, that was still engrained in her as a huge no-no.

Winding down from the party, she found Hazel and her friends at the photo booth, having switched out their baby shower outfits for their birthday party outfits. “Where’s Simon?”

“Bullying people about their gifts,” Hazel said nonchalantly. 

“Oh God…” Grace raced over and smiled, “Hey… what’s uh… what’s going on?”

Mrs. Monroe stood behind Simon with her arms folded and Mr. Laurent was in front of them. Simon answered, “Well, I’m giving people things back that went against the specifications for the list.”

“I don’t remember making specifications for the list.”

“You wouldn’t, because you didn’t, I did. You aren’t particularly great at meticulous things and you don’t pay attention whenever I’m telling you plans like these,” Simon said.

“We’re not gonna send a gift back with the person who gave it to us.”

“What are we gonna do, donate it to charity? Because I am not putting this together for our baby. This company uses…”

“Thank you, Mr. Laurent. Thank you for coming and thank you for this gift.” She gave the man a pat on the hand and smiled at Simon. He was still frowning, along with her mother. “You’re backing him up, now?” She got flashbacks of whenever they used to gang up on her and she was very salty that she had to defend MR. LAURENT of all people against the devastating team and Simon and her mother could be.

“He specifically said nothing from that company ON THE LIST,” her mom said, beginning a tirade against this man, with her and Simon taking turns on letting him know exactly how he’d fucked up.

“Their product is cheap and substandard.”

“They’ve decimated the supply of the people in the area they harness things from TO make cheap product.”

“And they use slave labor!”

“Child slaves.”

“OKAY! Okay… That’s a good company to boycott. But hear me out… Mr. Laurent is a simple man who shops at like three places and definitely doesn’t look up things like that,” Grace said.

To which Simon and Mrs. Monroe both reminded her, (loudly) “It was on the list!”

“I made it clear which companies we weren’t accepting gifts from!”

“It’s already bought.” Simon was going to continue complaining, but Grace took his hands and placed them on her belly and he immediately softened up and stared at it. “This is the most important thing, right?”

He looked up at her and cupped her face, shifting himself to touch foreheads with her. Hazel appeared out of nowhere to bomb the photo that they weren’t even expecting Lucy to take. 

.

“Wait, that was it?” Grace wondered. Let’s be clear… she did go through a lot of pain and it was a tough time in the birthing house, even with Simon right beside her and Hazel, her mother and her best friend nearby. But… it felt like there should be something else happening or that something was missing, that she had neglected something, or like something didn’t happen that was supposed to. 

She supposed that she had simply set her expectations so deeply into the thought of pain, struggle, blood, sweat and tears, that when it came… her imagination had actually run wild. Simon had kept telling her she was doing well and how he was proud of her and other affirmations. He was holding the baby now while she was being cleaned up. 

“Did everything happen?” Grace asked. 

Hazel went over the checklist with her. Yes. Everything happened. “Did I pass out?” No. She was awake. She was there for every grueling minute. It just was a different experience for her than what her mother described, than what she read and interpreted. 

The professionals explained to her how her birthing went relatively well, what to do next, etc. Charlotte, from the center, even talked to her about how it’s not only different for everyone, but how all four of her own pregnancies and births were different from the last. Grace was expecting something terrible to happen within the first few days, just because it didn’t seem like everything had happened! The paranoia died down on day 3 and she simply was back to cuddling with her new baby.

They looked like her, so far. Hazel made them a stuffie of a potato in a diaper… the baby just looked like a potato. She didn’t know how else to express that. Simon worshipped them. He was constantly holding them whenever Grace wasn’t. He was close by whenever she fed them. He took so many photos on his phone that within days, he surpassed all of the ones he had of Monty from the past several months.

NONE of those were going online any time soon. Grace had only posted a few days after giving birth her experience with having done so. She bounced back so quickly and looked so effortlessly beautiful that some people were claiming that she had been trolling and was never actually pregnant. She found that funny, but it also was her cue to duck away from the Internet for a while again. 

The first month of Ivory’s life, they were for the most part a quiet baby. Simon frequently worried that something was wrong, checking, rechecking, then coming back and checking again that they were breathing, awake, happy, etc. Grace was more like, “You’re so gross. Look at you! Drooling all over everything. Little slobbery monster!” She spoke in a high pitched voice that made Ivory smile and kick their little legs around.

“GRACE! Don’t say that!” Simon insisted. “You’re gonna make them feel bad.”

“No way! Ivory’s a tough little cookie, like their Mama. I gonna bite you, Cookie! Mama gonna bite you!” Then she playfully nibbled at their feet and hands. 

Simon studied the baby for a while and determined, “They seem to be enjoying it.” He would then relax a little. 

Hazel was the only person allowed to post photos of Ivory, and comments were always closed. The first one was on Hazel’s birthday. She was in a sundress, tanned a little more than usual and Ivory and she had on matching rompers and sunhats. “Ivory came 13 days before my 13th year. They really said, “I’ma be 13 too, Sis.” Look at them. Tiny. Tiny Potato. Sis has your back for life. #taurustribe #jk #idcboutthat #MonroeSibs #Doetography #HouseLaurent 

And there it was. All that anyone needed to see. You honestly couldn’t tell what the baby looked like, but how could anybody doubt Hazel’s hashtag “House Laurent?”

Simon sort of liked having a private family. He wasn’t sure why he had been so eager to have people acknowledge things before. Even one year ago, he needed for somebody, anybody to know that he slept in the same bed with Grace Monroe. He needed for her to say “I love you.” He needed to hear Hazel call him “dad.” He still loved those things, but he had everything he could have ever wanted… it just looked different than he thought it would. 

Why did he want to “take care of” Grace for so long? She was caoable of taking care of herself, probably better than he was of himself. She had talents (was ALREADY back to working on new dances with Hazel and new music), qualities… God… that smile made him weak… She had several other things too, but if he sat there making a list, he’d be there for a while, and he COULDN’T be there for a while, because Ivory was six weeks old and Grace told him that he could take them with him to work. 

He began strapping the baby into the stroller… “Are you… where are you trying to take my baby?” Grace asked.

“My calendar says that they’re six weeks old. I can take them to work with me.”

 Grace put her hands on her hips and Simon frowned. “You said it. I have a recording of you saying it.”

“Well, I said that we shouldn’t take them anywhere before six weeks…”

“And I set my calendar,” Simon completed the thought and pulled the diaper bag onto his shoulder. “Abigail is bringing Monty, so they’ll have a play date.”

“Oh, she is?” Grace asked, toweling herself down. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

“Grace, I’m gonna be late!”

“I’m not letting you go be a Daddy sized snack with TWO cute babies on you with a cute, perfect bodied nanny with no friends!”

“I don’t think she’s all that cute and I have no idea what her body looks like!”

“It doesn’t look like she pushed a baby out of it six weeks ago!”

“NEITHER DOES YOURS!” 

She came into the room, changed up and smiling, “Awww. That’s so sweet.”

“How did you?” She looked perfect. She looked perfect and she couldn’t have taken any longer than five minutes. And she thought she had anything to worry about? But, he wasn’t complaining. If he had Grace and the baby around, that was just better, all around. 

“I’m staying here,” Hazel told them and continued dancing in the mirror.

Grace was standing on the scooter, with Simon behind her, sporadically kissing her on the neck every now and then, making her smile and gush. Whenever they pulled into the studio Simon took the baby out, which Grace noticed was wearing an oversized heather gray, “Proof he got lucky with Grace Monroe” onesie. “Simon! What did you…?” She gasped and saw that he had a shirt, the same color that read, “I got lucky with Grace Monroe.”

“In my defense, you weren’t supposed to be here today!” Simon told her. 

“How many shirts and onesie sets did you buy?”

“Not a lot. I bought WAY MORE t-shirts than I did onesies.” She fell behind a little and the back of that man’s shirt said “Grace’s Babydaddy.”

“Simon…”

“In my defense… You were right there whenever I walked out of the house wearing it.” She laughed. “It’s just in the studio. I’m working on some mechanics. There’s not gonna be cameras on me or anything.” She was still pouting. “I know that you’re super secretive, but I’m sure that most of the people who give a damn about what we do already know that this is indeed my baby…”

“It’s not that.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Ugh. I wanted to do this whole reveal thing for you on Sunday! I was gonna make this long, sweet post and open my comments and EVERYTHING. Now, I feel like it won’t have the same effect…” His eyes were already all watery, just from her THINKING about doing so.

“Sunday is Father’s Day…”

“Yeah. I can keep my own secrets. Not tell people about my pregnancy or who I bone or how I share time with my daughter or whatever, but I didn’t plan on making you stay in the shadows of my spotlight for the rest of our lives, especially when it comes to this. You’ve been an immense pain in the ass, but you’re a wonderful father and I figured it’d be a good… coming out of sorts for me to acknowledge that on that day.”

He cradled Ivory closely, “You can still do that.”

“Well, you’ve announced it all over your clothes and also… I just told you the entire plan!”

“I love knowing plans!” Simon said. “Here.” He took off the shirt and threw on his hoodie, which it was too hot for and then they changed the baby’s onesie too. “I sort of want to eat it up whenever people actually find out from you that I am indeed, who you bone.” She laughed. “This is the best spoiled surprise that I’ve ever had!”

“Well… I didn’t tell you ALL my plans, so there’s still stuff to look forward to.”

“Yeah?” He asked, casually as they walked inside.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Can I have a hint?”

“Something that starts with the letter P.” Simon turned red and she smiled brightly.

“Uh. Didn’t put THAT on your calendar, did you?” 

His lip dropped, “I DIDN'T!” He frowned, “In my defense… we don’t really do that enough for it to have been something I was counting down to.” He smirked, “But every time we do…” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. She bit her lip and shook her head, “Nope. Sunday. You aren’t gonna beard break me, Mr. Laurent.”

Next

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” for reddie??

you are my home 

summary: Eddie’s thought’s during his induced coma in the hospital. [fix it fic]words: 3,195pairing: reddie*click link to read on AO3

* * * * * 

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Clear!”

Eddie felt his whole body jolt, even if he wasn’t conscious. The whole experience was surreal, sending his mind into the cusp of madness. Was he dead? Was he alive? Was this was Heaven was meant to be like, or had he committed too many sins and was actually in Hell?

Voices surrounded him, all of them unfamiliar and Eddie strained his fragile brain to find one that he could recognise. If he could only hear one voice, just one, he might be able to settle down and have a fighting chance. Through his haze of thoughts and panic in his mind, Eddie was still in a lot of pain. His chest felt like there were a tonne of bricks sitting upon it and there was a tightness in his throat, stopping him from gasping for breath.

It was strange, the whole feeling of being in limbo, at least that’s where Eddie assumed he was as he couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell the voices that he could feel each and every jolt of electricity and slam of their hands against his chest as the brought him back time and time again.

Slowly, Eddie could feel himself fade away once more, unable to keep his mind awake any longer. This was it, this was what dying felt like. He was about to pass away in a cold room surrounded by people he didn’t know, and who really didn’t care if he lived or died.

“We’re losing him! Clear!”

* * * * *

“He’s going to be alright, right? Tell me that he’s going to be alright!” The voice ringing in Eddie’s ear this time was a familiar one. Richie. Why was Richie in Heaven? He tried to open his eyes, but they were glued shut and he moved to his mouth, to try and say something. He couldn’t, however, as there was something stuck down his throat. A tube, probably to help him breathe.

“It’s too early to say, Mr Tozier. Right now, you just have to talk to him and let him know you’re here. They say he can hear you even when in an induced coma.” Another voice. A nurse.

Coma?

* * * * *

“A week without you, Eds.” There was a hand in his, a thumb stroking over his fingers, squeezing it every so often. “I miss you, and god, I just want you to wake up, to tell me I’m ridiculous and to stop calling you Eds. Even though I know that you love it, I know you do.” Another squeeze. “The doctor says that you can probably hear me, but you won’t remember when you wake up. So I’ve been here every day, talking to you, hoping you’ll wake up and show me those beautiful eyes of yours.” This time there was the feeling of a pair of lips against his palm. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, or move your fingers. Just- please Eds, give me a sign that you’re in there, recovering.”

Eddie tried. He really tried. There had never been a moment he had wanted to move his hand, or open his eyes more than in that moment. Instead, he was met with more blackness.

* * * * *

“Hey Eddie. I finally managed to get Richie to go for a shower. He hasn’t left your side since you got out of the ICU, even before then. The nurses were beginning to get worried. Don’t you worry though, Bill is making sure he’s okay. We all are.” It was Bev, sweet sweet Bev. She sounded exhausted. “We just hope you wake up soon, Eds. You’re so brave, just like Richie said. You’re going to pull through, I know you are.”

* * * * *

“I am sorry, but she is his next of kin and we had to contact her. She has a legal right to know about her husband.”

“She doesn’t care about him! Not like we do!”

“Richie, stop, please don’t yell. Yelling might distress Eddie.”

“I’m sorry Bev, I- but Myra is on her way and we- she won’t let us stay, you know she won’t.”

* * * * *

“Hey Eds, I don’t have long. Myra is outside talking with the doctor and she has already sent the other losers away. The nice nurse, the one who has been helping you let me in for five minutes while you’re beloved is distracted. I had to say goodbye. She- she’s banned us from visiting you, blaming us- blaming me for putting you in here. God, I’m already blaming myself, I don’t need her to do it for me. I just- I wanted to say one more thing, before I leave. I love you Eddie, I’ve always loved you. Hell, I was a repressed thirteen year old who was in love with my hypochondriac best friend. So much that I carved our names on the kissing bridge. Yeah, you heard that right Eddie Spaghetti-”

“Richie, she’s coming, you need to leave-”

“Please don’t forget about me Eds.”

I’ll never forget about you, Richie.

I love you, too.

Don’t leave me.

* * * * *

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Eddie-bear? Eddie bear can you hear me? Open your eyes for me Eddie-bear, I’m here. I’m right here.”

With a groan, his head spinning, Eddie finally managed to open his eyes. It was slow, as they felt as though they had been stuck together with glue and he was surprised to find the room dark, lit up only by a single lamp in the corner. The second sense to come back to him was his smell, his nose being filled with the scent of antiseptic gel and the general smell of hospitals. Slowly, he turned his head to the side and almost wished he would fall back into a coma, as he met the worried, smothering face of his wife. “Oh Eddie bear!”

Myra was loud, almost screaming, causing his sense of hearing to jolt back into action. His face scrunched up and he lifted his hand, a tube attached to it that was clearly delivering fluids into his system. “M-Myra please-” He stopped as the sound of his voice took Eddie by surprise. It was hoarse and every word spoken felt like glass was being dragged up and down the inside of his throat.

She didn’t bother asking Eddie how he felt, or even so much as caring about the fact that he was awake. Instead she got up off of the chair, rushing out of the room, screaming for a nurse. It didn’t take long for the room to be swarmed with the medical employees, nurses and doctors alike.

“Good to see you awake, Mr Kaspbrak, you had quite the accident,” The doctor announced, holding his clipboard and checking all of Eddie’s main vitals. “I know you must be confused and disorientated, and I want to allow you to rest properly. I just have a few questions for you, if that’s okay?”

Slowly, Eddie nodded his head, unable to do anything more as the last thing to finally come back to him was his feeling of pain, and fuck, was he in a lot of it. His whole body, from his head to his toes, felt like it was on fire. He felt like every bone in his body had been broken and then put back into place. His chest was heavy, his throat was aching and there was a constant feeling of nausea which he knew was caused by the morphine.

“Do you remember anything?” The doctor asked, before quickly adding, “Don’t speak, as your throat is going to be sore. We had to fit a tube in to help you breathe and feed you solids. Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

Eddie blinked once. He could remember every tiny little detail of what happened. From the moment he was skewered through the chest by a demonic child eating clown, to the moment he woke up due to Myra’s screeching voice.

“Alright, that’s good. That means there was no brain damage due to blood loss.” The doctor grinned and continued with his routine questions. “You are very lucky, Mr Kaspbrak. I can’t say I’ve had many people who have been brutally stabbed through the chest come out alive on the other end. Someone was clearly looking down on you.”

The minute the doctor spoke those words, Eddie thought of Stan, which then made him think of the Losers. Where were they? Shouldn’t they be here?

“W-Where-” Eddie croaked, his eyes flickering around the room. God his eyes were starting to feel heavy, and he could feel his consciousness slipping away. He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was fast asleep, head slumping against the pillow.

* * * * *

When Eddie woke up again, there was more light in the room and a nurse was standing at the bottom of his bed. Their eyes met and he managed to smile at her, earning him a smile back as she walked over to the top of the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “How are you feeling?”

“A-” Eddie started, swallowing just a little. His throat didn’t feel as harsh this morning which he was thankful for. “A little- b-better.” He turned his head to the side and spotted the cup of water, “M-May I?”

“Of course,” The nurse smiled, reaching for the cup and bringing it to his lips, allowing him to take a long, soothing sip that trickled down his throat, cooling it as his went. “Do you need me to call the doctor? Or your wife?”

The thought of having Myra back, with her loud booming voice, made Eddie cringe and he shook his head. He turned to the other side, hoping to see one of his friends, but there was nothing but an empty chair. “Where- where are my friends?” He managed out and the nurse looked at her feet.

“Your wife sent them away when she arrived,” she explained, patting his knee softly. “She thought it was their fault you were so injured and as your next of kin, we could only do what she wanted.” As she spoke, Eddie wanted to be sick. Myra had turned away the only people who had ever truly cared about him, the people who had essentially saved his life when he believed he was a lost cause. The hadn’t given up on him.

“I-” Eddie started and had to stop to take more water. “I want to see my friends, I want someone to let them know I’m awake.”

A loud gasp from the door caused Eddie’s head to turn to the side. Myra was standing there, her eyes narrow and full of shock. She looked at the nurse, pointing a finger at her. “I told you to tell me the second he woke up! Out, I want you out!”

The nurse opened her mouth to protest but Myra just got louder and more boisterous. “OUT!”

“Stop-” Eddie groaned, lifting the hand that was not hooked up to the drip and pinched his nose. “Myra she was doing her job, please don’t leave.” He asked the nurse and she nodded, moving back to the bottom of the bed, but she was much more tense. “Myra- I want you to call my friends. Please.”

“Eddie-bear,” Myra shook her head, walking over to him and taking his hand. “They aren’t your friends. They left you for dead! How can you call that friendship.” Eddie knew that wasn’t true, because if they had left him for dead, his body would never have been recovered. He would be rotting all that way underground, surrounded by nothing but rubble.

He shook his head at her, using his most serious expression. “You and I both know that’s not true.” Eddie sighed, “Why are you even here? Why did you come? I told you before I left for Derry that I wanted a divorce.”

Myra blinked at him, her eyes narrowing just a little, “You weren’t in your right mind Eddie-bear, you still aren’t. You need me to take care of you! You need me, Eddie.”

“No- no I don’t,” Eddie croaking, tears stinging his eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me Eddie-bear. You sound just like my mother and fuck- it’s weird Myra. Our whole relationship is just- weird.” His head thumping and his eyes began to feel heavy. He looked at the drip and realised that the morphine was on a timer, and a new dose had been delivered into his bloodstream. “When I wake up, I expect them to be here.”

Myra’s scowl was the last thing he saw as he succumbed to sleep once more.

* * * * *

Eddie blinked his eyes open, expecting to still see the scowling face of his soon to be ex-wife, but instead the sight that greeted him was much more welcoming. There, sitting in the chair, his head dropped forward as he slept, was Richie. He looked terrible, scruffy, and that that nap was the first round of sleep he’d had in weeks.

He had also never looked more beautiful.

How Eddie had managed to go the whole trip back to Derry without telling Richie how he felt, how he had always felt, was past him. Every time Richie had opened his mouth, had spilled out a ridiculous joke, the words had been on the tip of his tongue. Even when Eddie had saved him from the deadlights, moments before his almost fatal stabbing, Eddie didn’t know why he didn’t just seize the moment and kiss the other man.

Well, actually he did know. He was scared. Scared that Richie would turn him away and find him disgusting.

He wasn’t scared anymore, not after he almost died and especially not after hearing Richie’s confession when he was in his coma. Now though, now he wanted to hear them when he was awake, and while he was able to say them back. “Rich-” he croaked, reaching a hand over and touching his arm. “Rich. Wake up.”

The second his hand touched Richie’s the man was jolting awake and staring at Eddie as though he had seen a ghost. It took a moment for his brain to catch up, and when it it, tears started to trail down his cheeks as he moved closer to the bed. “Eds, fuck, you’re awake.”

“I’m awake,” Eddie breathed back, settling his head comfortably against the pillow. He was still tired, and his chest was still in immense pain. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “You’re crying…”

“I thought you were dead,” Richie breathed, taking Eddie’s hand in his own and bringing it up to his lips, kissing the skin with such tenderness Eddie could have started crying too. “Your body, it was so still, so...so lifeless. If I hadn’t managed to find a pulse, a weak one, you could have been presumed dead.”

Eddie lifted his hand to cup Richie’s cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb, “I’m not dead though, I’m alive. You saved me.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “I’m sorry Myra sent you away, she had no right.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” Richie admitted, choking back a laugh. “The nurse had to drag me out, apologising the whole time. The other losers got me back to the town house because we knew that Myra wouldn’t hesitate getting the police involved if she had to. I mean- I have already been questioned about Henry.”

Oh shit, Henry. “You- and what did they say?”

Richie shook his head, “I told them the truth, that he was an escaped mental patient who was about to kill my friend, so I acted in self defence. They agreed with me, and they realised he was a dangerous human. He had killed four security guards at the hospital.”

“You did what you had to do, and I’m glad the police were on your side,” Eddie smiled, swallowing thickly. “Uh, I know that this probably isn’t the best time and all but- but I can’t keep this to myself any more. I’ve wasted too much time already.”

Tilting his head to the side, Richie moved a little closer, placing his other hand over Eddie’s so they were both holding his hand, “What’s up, Eds? You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“Of course I do. I’ve always known.” Eddie smiled, weakly, but it was there. “I love you, Richie. I- I love you. I always have. I was just- fuck- too scared to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react. Then- when I was in my coma I heard you, you told me how you felt. You told me about the kissing bridge and I- I knew I had to tell you the moment I woke up.”

Richie was staring at him now, with huge wide eyes and his jaw slack open, “You- fuck- you heard me?” He asked and then he blinked. “Wait- you love me? Like- love me love me?”

For the first time since well, he was a kid, Eddie let out a genuine laugh. He nodded his head, squeezing Richie’s hand back tight, “Yes idiot. I love you, love you. I’m in love with you. Crazy, I know, but it’s true.”

More tears were streaming down Richie’s cheeks now, but he was smiling like a mad man. He dropped his head onto their hands for a moment before looking back up, wiping away some of his tears. “Damn, fuck Eds. I love you. So fucking much.”

They fell into a soft silence, just staring at one another, drinking each other in. Eddie was waiting, waiting for Richie to close the distance between them, but it never came. Carefully, he cleared his throat, “Rich?” He asked and Richie hummed, looking at him with a slight frown. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Richie choked and Eddie held back the urge to giggle at how flustered he was, “I- fuck Eds...you’re married! You- you have a wife.”

Eddie shook his head, “No- we’ve separated. Before I came to Derry. I told her that I was leaving her, that I didn’t love her anymore. We’re not together anymore.”

“Well why didn’t you say that sooner?!” Richie gasped and then he was leaning over Eddie and their lips were meeting in a soft, yet deep kiss. Even though Richie looked like a homeless person, and Eddie was literally back from the dead, both of them at what could be their worst, it was still the best damn kiss Eddie had ever had. Slowly, Richie pulled away and sat back, laughing as he ran a hand through his crazy curls.

“What?” Eddie asked, knowing there was something on his mind.

Richie blinked, shaking his head at how well Eddie could read him, “Does that mean you don’t have a home?

Eddie blinked and a soft smile broke out on his face. “Maybe not physically, but don’t you see? I do have a home. I have a home in the Losers and their friendship. I have a home right in front of me, because Richie, youare my home.”

Yes. Richie was his home. He always was, and he always would be.

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @thundercatseddie @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @deadlighten @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs

[metvmorqhoses]

Why do you think Voldemort never hooked up with another woman but Bella ? Were his choices limited to his ranks ? Were most women afraid of him ? Did he find Bella convenient since she was his DE and married? Don't men get bored with too much devotion ? She let him know how much she cared about him . Was she simply good in bed so he didn't need to look elsewhere? Was her being married another thing he found convenient? Was she convenient or special ? How was he as a 'lover' in your opinion ?

well, you provoke me and i oblige - or as i like to call it: the 100th novel-length essay on bellamort.

the reasons that in my eyes ultimately made bellatrix “the only one” for voldemort are many and various, but at the end of the day it has everything to do with who and how i think he was as a person.

as i said many times before and i feel the duty to keep specifying, over the years i started to consider these characters in a more adult and complex way, imagining them as real life persons and not fairy-tale villains and that’s where my analyses of them come from. sadly what jkr told us about their relationship is close to nothing, so all we have here is thought processes and fervent opinions about their few, filtered by harry’s eyes and painfully public interactions.

now, voldemort’s character, if looked at beyond the pure ideal of power and darkness that he so carefully built around himself, is clearly a human being as deep as the very pit of hell and full of contradictions, twistedness, beauty and voids to fill.

bear with me, because you cannot really understand what i think bellatrix was for him without explaining how i see his psychology first, which i think many many times is overly simplyfied and excused with a shrug and a “well, he’s evil”:

voldemort was born with a genius intelligence and magical talent, the most handsome looks and yet he was not only completely and utterly alone, but also a completely broken human since birth. his mother porpuselly conceived him putting his muggle father under a love potion, so he’s basically the direct offspring of the worst kind of rape: not only his mother abused his father physically, forcing him to have sex with her without his consent, but even emotionally, because she forced him to have feelings for her - as untrue as they might have been. not only that, but voldemort was clearly unloved by his parents from the very start, abandoned by them both in different ways before he was even capable to remember them. he had then been raised and abused since the most tender age in a filthy orphanage where everyone shunned and feared and made him believe he was insane, treating him god’s knows how badly, because he was able to do “things” no one else could, things that made people uncomfortable (think at how bigots can abuse children nowadays with the excuse of possession without magic or the devil even existing, i wouldn’t be surprised if tom as a child was put under monstrous rituals with the hope of exorcising him, it was after all the 30s in a really degraded and poor environment). imagine the hate, the resentment, the fear, the basic instinct to survive and only caring about himself that must have started to boil inside of him in the most dangerous of ways. he surely had the inclination to became what he ultimately became from birth, but goodness how life helped him. he learnt to defend and avenge himself from such a hostile world from the very start, it was a matter of surviving or succumbing. and then, at some point of his young age, he finally started to master and taste something that made him feel good, that made him feel right about himself, he started to enjoy the feeling of being in control of his abusers, of manipulating them, of hurting them, of taking what he wanted from them, the feeling of power - and moreover, a power that directly originated from inside himself - his power. he obviously started to consider himself his own savior, he started to intimately feel special, better than anyone, superior. at the same time he started to hate muggles, because muggles had been his first real source of utter isolation and pain (thing reinforced by the discovery, many years later, that his father, the reason he had to go through all that, was one of them). then, out of the blue, he was told that “more” he had so strong inside of himself was indeed magic. imagine the feeling of validation he must have felt about his uniqueness and superiority, imagine how powerfully his addiction to this wondrous thing he could finally name must have taken definitive root inside of him. magic became his everything, his religion, his purpose, his assurance of never having to feel weak, vulnerable or defenseless ever again. magic was the fuel that alimented everything he literally had in the world and that he ever felt comfortable to ever want (uniqueness, power, superiority, extraordinariness). human relationships were ludicrously out of the question in his eyes since he was a child. human beings were not reliable nor trustworthy. human beings were an utter disappointment, everyone was beneath him and no one really deserved his consideration anyway. magic was everything that really mattered. without magic, he was literally nothing - or at least that’s what life had convinced him of. an existence of his not desperately clutched on and inextricably intertwined with it was not something he even dared to fathom for himself. if you understand this, if you understand the perversion of his dependency towards magic, everything he ever did becomes painfully clear. magic for him was something so fundamental, so deeply mingled with his very being (and this is probably also the reason he indeed was the most powerful wizard that ever lived), that growing up he became more and more desperately obsessed about preserving and strengthening it. this is the root of his every choice, from venturing into the dark arts turning out completely disfigured but incredibly more powerful, to believing he could actually be the first immortal in history, to his entire anti-muggle politics. not only muggles were inferior and disgusting to him, but their mingling with wizards was in his eyes a dreadful threat to the very existence of magic and therefore everything special he ever had been. as a result, he ventured deeper and deeper into it, never to come back. no magic act seemed against nature to him, because he considered himself one with it. this is where his iron-rooted god complex comes from and i think it’s something a little more complicated than simple megalomania. but this is also where his problems with his own humanity (and other’s) started. at some point he really considered himself more than human, of a different species. no aspect of humanity meant anything to him, on the contrary, i think he had terrible problems with every basic human behavior, from caring, to having to eat and drink to survive, to sweating and having sexual impulses - and, of course, to the ultimate form of humanity, dying. i think he was profoundly disgusted by his and other’s physicality, to anything that could remind him of his mortality, even a breath.

and that’s why i don’t really think even as a most handsome young men he even spared girls or women a glance. i think he considered the whole thing far beneath him, as if a god was interested in exchanging fluids with worms. i also think deep down there was simultaneously an intellectual and not only a physical element in his disgust: i think he considered his good looks something pleasant to look at in a mirror (he only deserved the best, even in a face), quite useful, but in general absolutely meaningless and void. not to mention that was his muggle father’s face, the revolting beauty that doomed it as a child and that shamed him every day looking back at him in the mirror. the entire crowds of girls that without any doubt must have fawned over him at school were probably amusing to him in rare particularly good days and insufferable and despicable the rest. no one deserved to be around him, no one could understand his real greatness or void anyway, no matter how low they rightfully bowed - and they had to bow, but from a fair distance. i think the mere thought of sex was something absolutely revolting to him.

until.

now you are probably starting to understand why i needed this endless preface to answer your question.

i think bellatrix was something really unexpected for him, that came relatively late in his life while he was busy with everything else, building an empire and becoming a most powerful immortal creature, and it was extraordinary enough to enkindle something in him, in his humanity, at first even without his consent or him even noticing.

yes, you heard me right, despite all i have just written, lord voldemort was still human being and of a really damaged and flawed kind, no matter what he stubbornly wanted to believe about himself.

i think the first immediate reason that sparkled voldemort’s interest was that bellatrix somehow reminded him of himself. and we do know that he was really able to love only himself. this is the ultimate narcissistic thought process. she was everything he admired of his own qualities: beautiful, dark, incredibly intelligent and magically skilled, proud, ambitious, ruthless, power-angry. they were incredibly similar. but she was at the same time somehow more than him, she actually was what he thought he was supposed have been: the heir of one of the most noble and ancient magical families of britain, pure powerful blood in her veins. it’s obvious he took her under his wing, thinking such a talent was a most valuable addiction to his cause, especially because along all that, bellatrix was able from the start to show him a loyalty, usefulness and adoration of a different, truer kind from all the others. and i think he really valued that, i think he was completely aware she was the only person he could really trust and i think it wasn’t a secondary thing for someone who had never really trusted anyone from the day he was born - that he was aware of it or not. one thing is believing your followers are loyal to you and your cause (an example is snape), another is having the absolute certainty that someone will always be at your side, no matter how desperate the situation - and only bellatrix was ever able to provide him that. he was intelligent enough to tell the difference. i think bellatrix’s unfaltering loyalty and mind-presence at azkaban for fourteen years after his apparent demise was something that really won his respect and admiration. and no, i don’t really think voldemort was the kind of person that gets tired of too much devotion, at least not a true, sincere one, as the kind bellatrix’s provided him from day one. i actually think he was in desperate need of it, consciously or not. voldemort probably had, in my vision, a peculiar relationship with devotion and servility: he thought everyone owed him as much, but was at the same time quite annoyed by too much of it (killing people who said too much “my lords”). but not too much of bellatrix’s, and it’s probably because of the fact hers was of a deeper and more honest kind of devotion.

we don’t have to forget bellatrix was almost as egocentric, proud and vain as him, this is the woman who sits on chairs as if they were thrones. she was wizarding royalty and she sure as hell acted accordingly, she was used to have everyone bow to her (and if they didn’t, she made them). and the fact that she, this fearless tigress, only bowed to him, out of admiration and not blind fear (even if a healthy component of fear was indeed present in her as well), was certainly a reason of great pleasure and amusement to him. don’t even forget i totally believe bella amused him as hell. can you imagine anyone else rendered a blathering idiot in front of him, following him so closely, too closely, speaking without asking, etc, who would have lived to tell the tale? bella was allowed things no one else was, pet name included.

she was one hell of a woman, painfully like him, that literally melted and would have died any moment for him. this started to move things inside of him that i’m sure at first he didn’t like, especially the physical impulses. i said many times i’m convinced at first he was resolute into killing her. the fact that in the end he didn’t tells the tale for me. who knows, maybe the killing in the middle turned into other primordial activities. sexually, i do think he had the need to use a fair amount of violence, not so much because he wanted to hurt her, but to deal with the mortality/humanity aversion, and i think bellatrix was the only woman who was mentally built to not only understand, but enjoy that. i think bella’s legs went week in front of his displays of power, no matter if the victim was her. i wasn’t really a matter of dominating her spirit, but totally possessing her body for him. funnily enough, i think he absolutely respected her in his own twisted way and that she totally thought the same. that respect had nothing to do with their physical and political power dynamics.

again, they were absurdly similar and well-matched. i think at some point she became invaluable to him in a similar way magic was, so much he actually risked his own life and failure to ensure she wasn’t captured again. everyone else was disposable, but not his bella. he could have punished her the rare times she let him down, but as a death eater, not as a person. i think bellatrix was the only case in which the two things in his mind were actually separate even if linked.

they fond each other in darkness and voldemort, lover of uniqueness, surely understood the extraordinary quality of such a relationship. he wanted only the best for himself, he deserved as much, and bellatrix was the actual best in his mind. she, having a similar thought, had inside of her a dramatic and overwhelming pull towards darkness, power and violence, and he embodied them all and much more in her eyes.

so, in conclusion (because i could go on for several other hours), for sure bellatrix was also, along with all the other things, convenient to him, not so much because she was married, because i think neither of them gave an effing fuck about it, but because she was perfect for him in basically every single way (best death eater, genius, skilled, pureblood, devious, not afraid of his darkness but drawn to it, loyal, submitted to him but only to him), as if he himself had carefully molded out of clay his ideal match.

as to how i think voldemort was as a lover - really, really painfully disturbing, as his whole character. i don’t think him really able to separate passion and violence, for example, and i see him really prone to dangerous mood swings, trust issues and destructive tendencies. he was also surely overly possessive of bellatrix, his bella. he was the only one entitled to treat her as he pleased, no one else, no matter if he had just crucioed the hell out of her. lay a finger on her and you are dead. also, i don’t really think he ever told her just how much she meant for him, on the contrary i think whenever he thought she was getting too close and him too attached, he would mercilessly push her away, even violently.

but at the same time i see him quite thoughtful and appreciative of everything bellatrix was, much more than any other man or husband of that society. he really thought she was the best besides himself. that he told it out loud or not, i think he was well aware of all bellatrix’s qualities, especially the ones she directed towards him, and was intimately and very deeply proud of her. i think he was really grateful for her existence and the moment she died he just knew everything was lost.

[snarkwrites]

sprung spring | milf is not a bad word | eddie brock {m}

PROMPTS USED:

“Milf isn’t a bad word.” + Neighbors / friends with benefits + single mom au + “Did you just slap my ass?” / “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” / “Did you just quote Spongebob?” + heavy flirting / teasing + “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together. + on the kitchen table + quickie

NOTES:

Okay, warning here... I haven’t really ever... written Eddie before. So, this is just the way I kinda see him and my thirst combined... Nobody kill me pls?

Also, if enough people bother me, I miiight be tempted to make a fic of this at some point bc I do have some ideas...

WARNINGS:

Uhh.. almost sex on a table, bad humor ( Eddie, ftw ), sappy moments (Eddie... again.) unprotected sex, 69 / oral sex and body fluids.. Oh and a nosy sentinent who pops in and out at the beginning ( lookin at you, Venom, you lil shit.) 

PAIRING:

Eddie Brock x OFC, Maya

TAGGING:

@micolegg​ | @missjenniferb​ | @cabotcoves​ | @kyleoreillysknee​ | @chasingeverybreaking wave bc they asked / are into Eddie and/or are on my taglist. If you wanna be tagged in my multifandom stuff, please go [here] and add yourself. 

Hunk ← Lucy is spending the night with my sister, so… If you wanted to come by…

Hunk ← There’s something we need to talk about. If that’s okay with you?

Hunk ← Also, you realize you don’t play fair, right? That voice of yours on the radio this morning… I have not been able to get it out of my head all day.

Maya almost deleted the texts and didn’t send them, but she took a deep breath and hit send instead. Rita was right. She needed to stop dancing around it and go for what she wanted. The longer she waited, the more reason she gave herself to chicken out. And Eddie Brock made her happier than she’d been in a really long time. Eddie and Lucy got along well, he doted on her. Lucy loved Eddie to death, even when Venom decided to crop up in the middle of storytime some nights. Things just felt right with Eddie.

Tonight, Maya thought to herself with a silly grin, tonight is the night I tell him I’m done keeping us low key. I know that’s been bothering him and I need to fix that. She placed her phone on the counter and stripped down, stepping beneath the warm water. By the time she’d finished her shower, her cell phone was ringing.

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed for it, thinking it would be Eddie. When she realized it was Randy, another neighbor who’s relentless pursuit as of late was growing tiresome, she frowned at the phone and answered.

“Randy, hi.” “Hey, I was wondering…Are you busy tonight?”

… Hopefully… Maya thought to herself as she bit her lip and listened to Randy’s idea for a date, his pleading with her to give him one chance as she dug around in her closet, trying to settle on an outfit for the night, … I should just answer the door naked… that’ll really throw Eddie for a loop…

“So.. about that date?” Randy finished up, pacing his living room, scowling to himself when Maya offered up an excuse for a third time, “I’m real busy. Trying to finish remodeling Lucy’s big girl bedroom… Maybe later?”. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that if he wanted her, he had to keep trying and he offered to come over later and help out, frowning when he heard dial tone and realized that Maya had abruptly ended the call before he even got the offer out. Maya put her phone back down, rolling her eyes. Randy wasn’t fooling anyone. He was irritated and frankly, coming off a little pushy with his advances lately and honestly, Maya didn’t care because she’d made her mind up and she was over Randy’s attempts. Taking herself off the market.

She hadn’t clicked with him like she’d clicked with Eddie. Putting the conversation out of her mind, she stared anxiously at her cell phone. Eddie hadn’t texted back yet and it wasn’t like him. Just as she was about to sit down the phone again, it lit up.

She bit her lip as she realized that Eddie was texting back.

--

Eddie stared intently at the cell phone in her hand. Bumping into his ex and her new fiance earlier had him really thinking about his own thing with Maya. And apparently, it wasn’t just him thinking about it, because as he tried to come up with a response, Venom butted in ,, Tell her how you feel, Eddie Brock. Tell her that you no longer wish to keep things private.”

“But I don’t wanna make her uncomfortable, either. There’s a way to do shit, buddy.” Eddie muttered as he took a deep breath, biting back a quiet groan at her slightly suggestive second text. By the time he reached the third one, he was torn between anxious and horny. Anxious because she hinted that they needed to talk and in his past, that had never been a good thing and horny because the whole tone of the string of texts was… Somewhat racier than normal for her. He was getting mixed feelings here and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Kitten → On my way now. Too bad Luce is at Rita’s. Venom was gonna share these chicken nuggets with her. ;P Kitten → Oh? What about, hm? Kitten → Hey, listen… If my voice was stuck in your head all day, consider it payback because I have not been able to stop thinkin about you all day either.

“I’m a fuckin sap, that’s what I am.” Eddie shoved the phone back into his pockets, slipping the motorcycle helmet down over his head and straddling his motorcycle, revving the engine. The drive across town seemed to both fly by and take hours and by the time he was parking his motorcycle at the curb in front of the 2 story townhouse next door to his own, he’d already started to brace himself in preparation of what she might want to talk to him about.

By the time he was standing in front of her door, she was opening it, pulling him through the door and into the house by the collars of his leather jacket. Her body molded against his and she rose to tiptoe, crashing glossy and soft red lips against his mouth almost hungrily. His hands moved down her back, stopping on her ass, squeezing and rubbing. It made her rub against him and she gave a needy little whimper as Eddie muttered amused into the kiss, “Thought you said ya needed to talk to me, hm?”

,, Let it be, Eddie Brock” Venom piped up. But naturally Venom would be in favor of… whatever was happening right now, because Venom had apparently ‘bonded’ with the two females in question.

,, So have you, Eddie Brock.” Venom took joy in reminding him. Eddie cleared his throat as a warning for Venom to pipe down and thought his answer, ,, yeah well, you know how the whole we gotta talk thing goes, buddy”.

Once Venom was silent again, amusing himself within, Eddie turned his attention back to waiting on Maya to say something. Instead, she seemed to be distracted, her hands resting against his jacket, working it down and off his body, tossing it at the bench next to the door where her purse and keys sat. Eddie chuckled against her mouth as he muttered again, “Not gonna answer me, kitten?”

Maya pouted up at him, pulling away to catch her breath, heavily distracted at the moment. Her heart was racing in her chest and she knew that he’d be curious and that she couldn’t just show him how she truly felt about their current arrangement, she’d actually have to tell him too, but for some reason, it all seemed so much easier in her head.

… because if I keep the words in my head just a little longer, then this can’t go badly… He can’t just decide that this is too serious for him and end it… the thought had her frowning a little and trying to shove it out as quickly as it came. She pressed into him a little more, Eddie’s back meeting the door frame with a soft smack as his arms wrapped around her and he gazed down at her, slightly panicked look in those blue green eyes of his.

Again, she took a deep breath, locking eyes with him this time. “Well, I’ve been thinking and I… I can’t keep on like this…”

His face fell and Maya swore, giving a soft laugh as she shook her head. “I’m not breaking it off, you dork. Will you let me explain? Please?”

Eddie took a deep breath, preparing himself. ,, Sure, she’s sayin she’s not endin things. Means nothin.” he thought as he gave a nod. “I’m listenin, kitten.”

“Well, all our friends have a bet going on...And earlier, me and Rita were talking… And it made me realize something… I don’t want to keep this just between us. I don’t want this to just be hooking up all the time or spending nights at each other’s place.. I mean I love it, don’t get me wrong but I… I want more, okay? I want you. And me.. Together.” Maya finished rambling, gazing down at the front of his tee shirt intently, walking her fingers up and down his chest as she held her breath.

Was she about to lose him? Why was it taking so long for him to answer?

Eddie’s jaw dropped, because he hadn’t been expecting her to say that,  at all. He’d been expecting her to end things.

,, Well? Are you going to answer her, Eddie Brock?” Venom roared to life, almost insistent. Eddie cleared his throat in warning again and after a second or two, his mouth opening and closing as he dragged his palm over the back of his head, it hit him.

The whole reason he’d been feeling antsy and restless lately was because she seemed to be in favor of keeping this between the two of them. She didn’t want more and he did. Rather than waste even more time, because he could see it in those big brown eyes of hers, she was starting to panic a little, he slid her up his body, stepping across the hall and into her kitchen and dining room, sitting her on the counter as his mouth attacked her own hungrily, messy and biting sloppy kisses, the soft smacking sound of mouth against mouth filling the quiet and sexually charged tension between the two of them.

“Fuckin awesome.” he breathed against her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin as she wrapped her legs around his hips and laughed softly. He was leaning in closer, nearly pressing her back against the table, muttering almost distractedly, “I was going to take you to bed but I just don’t think we’re gonna make it.”

The knock on her patio door had the pair springing apart and Eddie scowling as he glanced back. Randy, Maya’s neighbor on the opposite side stood there, gaping, giving Eddie a glare that had Eddie rolling his eyes. Maya swore to herself and muttered against Eddie’s neck breathlessly, “What the fuck made him think I wanted him to come over, I wonder?”

“Well, to be fair, kitten… you’re kinda passive. Took you five minutes of dancing around it to tell me to get lost that night I came by.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to get lost. I want him to get lost.” Maya nodded to the patio, giving a sarcastic wave of sorts at Randy, who was still outside knocking.

“Maybe we should give him a show, huh?” Eddie teased, but Maya rubbed herself against him, her arms wrapping tighter around his neck as she mumbled lazily against his lips, “Don’t you dare tempt me, Eddie.”

“Maybe I want to tempt you.” Eddie laughed, the corner of her mouth connecting with his mouth lazily as he went in for another kiss. She pouted and cleared her throat, nodding to the door and reluctantly, Eddie pried himself away from her, walking over to the patio door, sliding it open long enough to say, “Hey Randy… Maya’s busy right now. Try not coming back, yeah?” and sliding the door shut, locking it behind him because something about the guy just screamed creepy as hell and frankly, Eddie wasn’t in the mood to let Venom out to play, ruining his own current fun for the night.

He scooped Maya off her kitchen table, carrying her up the stairs, kicking the door to her bedroom open with his foot and stepping inside. After sweeping the top of the dresser free of the clothes on top of it, he was stepping between her legs, his mouth latching onto her bottom lip, sucking as his hands went straight for the tie in the leopard print silk robe.

The robe pooled around her and Eddie gave a quiet growl as his eyes roamed over her body and he smirked. “Well shit, kitten.” he raked a hand over his head, flashing her a teasing smirk, “You know tearing off your clothes is the fun part, right? The hell am I supposed to do now?” as he tilted her head to the side, pushing her hair out of the way, his mouth moving down the side of her neck, littering soft skin with bite and suck marks as his hands moved up and down her body. Her legs wrapped around his hips, squeezing tight and Eddie groaned quietly when she rubbed herself against him again, more urgently.

“Well, you could fuck me.” Maya managed to whimper as her mouth moved down the front of his throat, leaving marks of her own behind on him, smirking as she did so. Her hands went down to the hem of his tee shirt and she started to tug it upward and throwing it onto her bedroom floor as soon as she had it over his head, lowering her mouth and  settling it sporadically on his chest and abdomen in various spots after slipping off the top of the dresser, stepping so that she stood in front of him. His eyes fluttered open and shut as the blunt of her teeth scraped at his chest, her mouth latching onto a patch of skin, sucking. Fingertips dug into her body and he stared down at her, muttering quietly, “ Oh no, kitten. What I’m about to do to you is more than fuckin you. We’re past fuckin you now, kitten. This is making love.” as she stared back up at him, biting her lip, her hand hovering over the button on his favorite pair of jeans.

She gave a soft smile and a giggle, working the button out of the buttonhole and then slowly unzipping his jeans, giving a tug to jeans and underwear so that they hit the floor. As her lips moved in a line over his abdomen, he tensed and a growl slipped out of his mouth, his fingers catching in her hair as she hit her knees in front of him. Her tongue danced over the tip of his cock and as she took more of him into her mouth, he groaned, thrusting carefully against her mouth, his head falling back as his fingers curled, gripping the edges of the dresser, pressing his back into it just a little more in an attempt to stay on his feet. “Fuck.” his toes curled against hardwood flooring and the hand tangled in her hair tugged at it as he thrust his hips against her mouth a little faster and she took him deeper in her throat, teasing her tongue over the vein that ran the length of his cock.

“Kitten, look up at me.” Eddie coaxed, staring down at her intently, an adoring and oh so hungry look in his eyes as they locked on her.

Maya pulled away, wiping at her mouth, biting that lip. Eddie nodded to the queen sized bed behind her and leaning down, he gripped her chin, pulling her mouth against him as he muttered into a deep and almost bruising kiss, “On the bed, kitten. Right now. On your knees...”

Maya swallowed hard, slinking over to the bed, settling on it on all fours and Eddie made his way over, flopping down, the mattresses giving a slow creak at the sudden motion. Once he’d settled in, he reached up, gripping Maya’s hips and pulling her up his body, his nose bumping against her cunt as he inhaled deep and growled quietly. “ Wanted to make this fair, kitten.” Eddie muttered as his tongue traveled up the inside of her thighs, and her mouth wrapped around his cock all over again, her head bobbing up and down. As his tongue worked over her clit and then his lips latched on, she whimpered aloud, her body tensing a little, the humming sound she made vibrating through his length and making him grip her hips tighter, rocking them back against his face as he continued to suck at her clit. Maya’s hands gripped his thighs and for a few seconds, it felt so good that she almost forgot to breathe, the bobbing of her mouth as she took him deeper into her throat. The sucking sounds of his mouth latching onto her clit over and over shattered through the silence, competing with the sound of her tongue lapping greedily at his cock. His grip on her hips tightened and he growled, feeling her starting to drip, his tongue darting down her inner thigh to clean up the mess, smirking against soft skin as he did so.

“So fucking sweet. Like candy.” Eddie mused, his teeth scraping against her thigh, latching on erratically, littering up the insides with bite and suck marks, starting the slow and torturous journey back up, his nose bumping against her cunt, Eddie inhaling deep and latching his teeth onto dripping folds as the suction from her mouth tightened around his cock. “Fuck. That’s it, kitten.” his voice came out more of a growl than anything, and he plunged his tongue deep into her dripping sex, slurping and licking her clean as he felt her legs starting to shake. “Get on your back, kitten. Let me take care of you, hm?” his breath tickled the insides of her thighs and her cunt as he muttered the words quietly against.

All Maya could do was nod, let him pull her down onto the bed. As he settled himself on top of her, she went to wrap her legs around him but instead, she bent them at the knee, resting a leg on either side of his body as he lined himself up, his face lowering, his mouth crashing against her own hungrily as his teeth tugged at her lips, kissing until she felt her lips aching and swelling on impact.

Tonight felt different. There wasn’t any rush, they weren’t just tearing each other’s clothes off and going at it like they’d gone mad. Eddie caught her gaze as his cock sank into her, inch by inch. He bit his lip and gave her that crooked grin, leaning down to mutter lazily against her mouth, “Ah, this was better than a quickie on the kitchen table anyway, right kitten?”

“Fuck.. Oh god yes.” Maya breathed against his neck as she dug her fingers into his shoulders and tugged at his hair, rocking her hips upward to meet his slow and deep drives, the smack of skin against skin competing with the quiet creaking of the bed beneath them with every little move they made. His hips connected with her body hard; almost enough to leave bruising behind. His mouth latched onto her neck, dancing across her throat, littering her skin with more bite marks and bruises and when it met her mouth again, she was almost breathless. She held on tighter, a muffled sigh soft against his neck, sending a shiver racing through him as he chuckled and stopped, planting noisy and playful kisses on her face. “That sigh was a good thing right, kitten?”

“A very good thing, Eddie.” Maya crashed her mouth against his, softly smiling into the kiss. He tilted her hips upward slightly, driving into her deep and slow, over and over, almost as if he were hell bent on fucking her deep into the mattress on her bed, that goofy smirk on his face as his gaze settled on her, pinned below. “Good.” he muttered softly against the shell of her ear as he buried his cock inside her even deeper, panting against her ear, “Because all I wanna do is make ya happy, kitten. You know that, yeah?”

“Yes.” Maya moaned, her head tilting, her eyes fluttering open and shut. Her orgasm was building at almost a blinding speed and she was literally almost seeing stars, her body tense, her grip on Eddie tight and only getting tighter, “Oh fuck.. Yeah baby, c’mon.. Faster. Please?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head no. “We got all night, you and me.” “But… ah fuck… I’m so close, please.” Maya whimpered out, her teeth grazing against the edge of his ear as her legs gripped his hips tighter and she rocked herself up against him, trying desperately to get her own way, pouting when Eddie’s hips pinned her in tighter. Eddie growled against her mouth, his teeth tugging at her lower lip, his lips clenching around it as he muttered with a dark chuckle, “Not yet, kitten. You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes.” Maya said it quickly, because he was starting to slow to a full stop and she wanted him to keep going, keep fucking into her like he was because it felt too good for him to stop now. And she knew what a tease he could be.

“So wet, kitten. Feels so good, burying my cock inside you.” Eddie grunted against her throat as his mouth danced over it, his teeth latching sporadically in different spots. Oh, he was making it his mission to leave her completely covered in his marks.

He wanted it obvious whose woman she was now. If he could, he’d hire a skywriter and have them fly over the city, advertising it. His heart raced at the reminder that she wanted to be with him. He still hadn’t fully gotten his head around it.

“You’re mine. Right, kitten?” Eddie breathed against her skin, catching her gaze, flashing her that smirk she loved so much. Maya bit her lip and nodded, no hesitation. “All yours, baby.” she clung to him as he continued to fuck into her, slow and deep. His cock slammed into her G spot over and over and all she could do was moan and whimper, begging for her release.

Eddie groaned as he felt himself getting even closer. He tried stopping again, it didn’t work. Staring down at her, he bit his lip. “You gonna cum for me, kitten?”

“Yes.. Fuck yes.” Maya moaned out, digging her nails into his shoulders and dragging them down his back, making him buck into her harder and faster, so fast that the smack of skin against skin echoed through the room and almost overpowered the sound of her headboard hitting the wall at a steady pace. HIs hips stammered and she rocked herself against his thrusts eagerly, her orgasm ripping through, leaving her shaking and moaning, whimpering his name even louder, Eddie joining in when he felt her walls vise his cock, milking him of his seed, his mouth crashing against her mouth, deep and heavy kisses, the soft sound of their smacking lips and heavy breathing filling the air as he fucked them both through their orgasm.

Spent and sated, Maya pulled Eddie down on top of her and Eddie rolled onto the mattress, pulling her into his arms, kissing the bridge of her nose as she nuzzled against him. “Fuck. I know I say this every time, kitten, but that was amazing.” Eddie muttered, raising a hand to brush hair out of her eyes.

“It always is, baby. Are you thirsty? I can go get us some water.” “A little, yeah. Don’t want you to move though.” Eddie pouted as Maya pried herself out of his embrace and stood, tugging his tee shirt down over her head. Eddie reached out, lightly smacking her ass and Maya turned, poking out her tongue. “Did you just smack my ass?”

“Actually, I firmly grasped it.” Eddie chuckled, pulling her back down onto the edge of the bed. Maya laughed against his mouth, “You totally just quoted Spongebob… This isn’t getting us water, baby.”

“Okay, fine.. But hurry back, kitten. A guy gets lonely up here without ya.” Eddie planted a noisy kiss on her lips and let her loose so that she could go downstairs and get them both a glass of water...

[cmaddyshere]

Sukuna’s gunna eat ya

This is my first ever fan fiction. I love this anime and hope the fans enjoy! TW rape, cannibalism, blood play. 

Breakfast was bland. Everything is bland. He is just staring out of the window of this cafe watching people walk the street. I am stuck.... just watching. I want them all to burn. I crave nothing more than to destroy everyone and everything I can see. This is bullshit. I cannot over power Yuuji for the life of me. How does he do it? I whisper in his head constantly of my past indulgences. His heart races every time, I can feel his disgust with me and he begs me to stop talking. It is the only thing I have now; the ability to at least torture this putrid fuck. It feels like hours are going by and he is still fucking eating and staring. I begin to remember and whisper to him, he is getting aggravated with me. Yuuji stands and starts to leave. As we reach the door I see her. She walks fast, and hard in the street. She's clutching her purse tight to her body almost sprinting. I have seen one's like her before but she is pulling my attention for some reason. She is heading in the direction that Yuuji follows to get back to school. Somehow without my asking he is keeping pace with her. Not too close but not too far, I can make out her long hair half brown and half blonde. I haven't seen that before. Her shape is like an hour glass, nice round bust (at least from what I can tell from her back) a small waist and large hips. Her butt is round like there are two people side by side blowing big bubbles with bubble gum. She has long muscular legs and with all of that being said somehow her frame is petite. A gust of wind could probably knock her over easily. We end up on a path in the park where she seems to turn left, and Yuuji turns right. I cannot stop thinking about her, I just want to see her face.

"Yuuji, do me a small favor, and I may have to return it."

"What do you want?"

"Follow that girl."

"The two color hair one? She's pretty...but why should I follow her?"

"I will owe it to you if you indulge me just this once. Please follow her...I promise I won't kill her."

"I don't know...this seems risky and I don't know you're not actually going to hurt her. I don't know if I can do that for you."

"I promise I will not kill her. Please just this once, just follow her."

He's thinking it over, I can hear his thoughts. Yuuji is worried that I only seem to repeat my promise not to kill her, and how I won't acknowledge hurting her. He is so cautious of me although he is absolutely right to be. I cannot promise not to hurt her, that is all I want to do.

Yuuji turns to walk in her direction. We walk for over an hour. She had headphones in and has seemed to relax her body. She is completely unaware that he is following her. We near another part of the city by what seems to be an apartment building. Next to it there is an abandoned building about 4 stories tall. My need is building. I am so desperate to see her face I need to get closer. Strangely, as my need grows Yuuji's will to remain in control fades.

"Sukuna what are you doing? I feel like i'm losi.."

SNAP

I am in control now.

This body is growing, my muscles are peaking through, my marks are bright on his skin. I can feel my power growing. This urge is uncontrollable now. I have to get to her before I lose to Yuuji again. I pick up the pace and come within grabbing distance of her. I reach her in front of the abandoned building. I extend my right hand out and spin her around by her right shoulder so fast she almost falls over. I maneuver my left arm to catch her by her waist. She looks up at me stunned, maybe horrified.

"Who the what the what the fuck are you doing? Do I know you?"

Her voice is soft and high pitched. She sounds near tears.

"Nooo you do not know me. You look even better from the front princess. I think I will have you for dinner tonight."

"Wha..what do you mean by that?"

She's shaking. Her face has become red like a ripe tomato. She is doing everything in her power to make herself smaller. Crossing her arms over her chest, bringing her legs tight together, bending her knees ever so slightly making me tower over her; she's been hurt before. People like her had obedience beaten into them. Little does she know this is just fuel to the fire that is burning inside me now.

"I do not say things that I don't mean. I will have you now and for as long as I can stand it. You cannot escape me and I swear that I will have every last fucking part of you."

I cover her mouth and drag her into the building. She is wearing a tight black tank top and a short black skirt. With my right hand over her mouth and arm over her chest I reach with my free hand under her skirt. She's wearing thin silk panties that aren't quit a thong, but seem to blend effortlessly between her cheeks like they were made to be on her. I hook my finger into the top and pull them down to her feet. I lift her and swipe them off of her. She's crying now. Shaking hard and sobbing uncontrollably but not even trying to fight me. I remove my hand from her mouth but bring my arm across her throat. She grabs my arm with a feeble attempt at freeing herself. I bring the base of my hand to her mouth hard. Her bottom lip caught on her teeth and she cries out. Once her mouth is open I stuff her panties inside. I throw her over my shoulder and ascend the stairs. I decide to stop at the third floor, as there is a gaping hole in the wall facing the park that allows the moonlight to illuminate the room. I look around and see a dirty mattress on the floor by the wall next to the crumbled one. There is trash scattered about. I look around for something to tie her up with when I remember Yuuji had rope in his pocket. I do not remember why he had the rope, something to do with training I don't really remember or care. I walk over to the mattress and kneel onto it. I swing her over my shoulder and onto the mattress. Her face is stained with tears and a small amount of snot. I swear she gets prettier the harder she cries.

"Whaauudootttmmmm"

"Princess don't try to talk, and stop crying so much you're going to choke."

I could not make out what she was saying and I did not want to. I turned her on her stomach and pulled both of her arms behind her back. I used the rope to tie her forearms and wrists together behind her. I flip her back on her back and admire my work. I brush my fingers on her outer thighs, damn she is so soft. Her skin feels like butter. She smells so good I think I hear my stomach growl. She looks up at me with pleading eyes still with tears covering her face. I lean in close to her ear and whisper.

"You may call me Sukuna or sir. Nothing else will do. I don't mind a struggle but know if you actually are able to hurt me that will not help you. If anything it might make this urge stronger, and gods help you if that happens."

She nods in compliance. She's trying so hard to keep her legs closed but I am so much stronger. I pry them open and press my pelvis between them. I just can't stop looking at her. Chest heaving, warm body, shaking and panting like she cannot possibly get enough breath in her lungs. I trace my fingers again over her outer thighs, I drag them from her knees to her inner thighs. I reach her skirt and flip it up to her stomach. I press my thumbs and either side of her inner thigh so close to her lips. I glance up to see her eyes shut tight. A smirk emerges across my face. I keep my hands placed and lean down to her lips.

"Open them now."

Still they're shut tight.

"Baby girl open them now I won't ask a third time."

She opens her eyes reluctantly. There's drool pooling at the sides of her face, soaked with saliva and tears, I can feel the fear radiating off of her being feeding my inner heat. I lick her bottom lip, and pull it so lightly with mine. She opens her mouth slowly but not slow enough. I suck her entire bottom lip into my mouth hard, unforgivingly. Her breath is heating my face up and I let go of her lip slightly to where I bite just a little completely off. There is a lot of blood for such a small chunk missing. She cries and screams through her panties to which I chuckle. I bring my hand up to her mouth and toss the panties aside. Her shaky voice is so wonderful. I start sucking hard on her bottom lip drinking up all of the blood I can. I moan at the taste of her fluid. I crash my mouth fully onto hers forcing my tongue inside. I use one hand to choke her with the other sneaks under her back to bring her mid section tight to mine. I feel frenzied like I want to taste more, but I hold back as I am not ready to be done. Her nipples are so stiff now I can hardly ignore it. I release her from our kiss and let go of her throat. She's panting so hard now desperate to catch her breath. I pull her top down underneath her breasts, I did not even realize she wasn't wearing a bra. They're so perky and round. Her nipples have metal bars that pierce them, I haven't seen that before but I think I like it. I take a moment to soak in the scene in front of me. I lower myself to her throat, where I lick and kiss softly. I can feel the vibrations of her subtle moans on my tongue. I move to the side of her neck leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down  to her shoulder. I use both hands to press her breasts up and together. I gently suck and bite on her sensitive buds. They feel so amazing inside my mouth. I feel the urge to bite her again, but I think I will wait just a little longer. "This is different", I think to myself, as she adjusts herself. She wraps her legs around my waist and she has stopped crying. She's almost pushing her chest towards me like she wants more. I can hear her little moans as my need grows wild. I let go and smack her face hard. She's bleeding more now, I lick the blood from the corners of her mouth needily. I turn her over and smack her ass even harder, a bruise is already forming. I search Yuuji's pockets and find a little knife. It's smaller than I like but it slices his finger open smooth as can be. I taste the blood dripping off of it. Fuck. I take the little blade and trace the smooth side over her back. She's breathing hard again, but seems conscious not to cry. I flip the knife over and make small slices across her back. Small strokes turn to longer strokes. There is blood everywhere. I can hear her muffled tears. I take the knife to her shoulder and stab into it. She screams and writhes underneath me but there is nowhere to go. I am sitting on her lower back with my shins behind me holding her legs down. I slide the knife out of her and suck the blood from her wound. I lick fervently all over her back being sure to get as much as I can. I ball her hair up in my fist and pull her head towards me. I kneel behind her and wrap my left hand around her throat. I apply pressure slowly to the sides of her neck, I feel her panic seep in as her breathing becomes more shallow. I bring the knife to the top of her genitals. Again teasing her with the back end of it. I use my chin to force her head down so she cannot look away. I use my knees to keep her legs apart and force her to sit on my groin. I make a small slice to the inside of both of her thighs. Blood trickles down her legs. I play with it with my fingers, and bring my fingers to my mouth and suck them clean to taste her once more. I use the blade to slice her some more in the space between the lips of her pussy and her inner thigh. She inhales sharply and cries out gently. I fold the knife up and put it back into the pocket. I spread the blood across her pussy. I can feel it throbbing as I work more and more of her blood across her folds. She presses her butt into my hard cock. Another small moan escaping her. I work her over with small light movements of my fingers. I slide them over her slit and wonder how much she is actually bleeding. It seems to fucking wet and warm, I start to think she was actually sopping on her own. I slip my fingers into her folds and find her clit. She moans a little harder and presses into my member even harder.

"Princess tell me, if you could live without something what would it be?"

I lessen my grip on her throat to allow her to answer me.

"ahh what do you mean? What would I want to live without?"

I am still gently running my finger in circles around her nub.

"If there was a part of you that you could live without what would it be?"

She is looking down at herself, gently moaning and thinking about my question.

"You should think harder before I make that choice for you baby."

"Are you going to try to bite me again like before?"

I can hear the panic start to rise in her voice.

"Well I can just choose myself and let you figure out the rest."

"Okay, okay I know I know what you can have please just let me live please I don't want to be eaten alive I just want to go home I want to go home please please."

"Tell me little girl what part will you live without?"

She is sobbing again. Her face soaked with blood and tears, she mumbles lowly to me.

"You can have the inner lips, the slightly longer ones inside my actual pussy, or the inside of my thighs but nothing else please don't kill me please I am begging you. Do anything to me I can take it I can I don't want to die."

I press my mouth to the nape of her neck with a satisfied low growl. I open the knife once again and slice off her labia. She screeches and collapses face first on the bed. I turn her over and place myself between her legs, careful not to press onto her bleeding mound. She stares back at me, mouth gaping as she watches me suck her flesh into my mouth. I chew slowly and savor the taste of her. My cock stirs, I feel myself almost close to release. I make sure to chew in her face letting the blood seep out of my mouth. I lower myself to her bloody hole. I sit for a second to admire my work. I make a really clean cut. I can smell the irony smell and taste it once more. I bring my tongue over her fresh wounds, I lick and kiss them gently. I begin sucking the blood off of her, and take my tongue in circles around every part of her needy cunt. I settle my tongue on her pulsing clitoris. I start lapping at it, circling it and sucking on it. She's still crying but now she's moaning too. She's breathing so hard and moaning out into the open little curses. I move my mouth to her inner thigh. "I can't help this." I think as I sink my teeth into her. She screams so fucking loud. I can't take it anymore. I press the backs of her thighs to the bed as I tear these clothes off. I pull his pants down and my cock springs free. I dig my claws into her thighs just under her knees and position my tip to her entrance. I take it and slide it over her bloody wet folds, with no warning I slam my long, thick member into her hole. She cries out again, still sobbing and screaming I lean into her face. She's shut her eyes again.

"Open."

She complies.

I wait for her to gather herself as I take her in once again. Staring into her eyes I notice they're green, maybe jade. She's so goddamn pretty all messy like this. I keep our lips touching but sure not to engage and I pull my length out slowly, and slam into her once more. She seems to have forgotten about the pain. She looks into my eyes and evens out her breathing. I slowly pick up the pace, making each stroke hit her in just the right spots. She's so fucking tight and wet she has to want this. She seemed to know exactly what flesh she was willing to part with so easily I imagine she has always wanted this. Our lips graze together as I fuck her harder and harder. She starts to moan in ecstacy.

"Do you like that? Do you like how hard I fuck you? Do you like watching me taste you? Fuck baby girl you taste so goddamn good. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock princess. Tell me how much you want this."

She's moaning so loudly now. Crying out for me to bring her to her peak.

"Please don't stop sir, I've never felt so full before. I don't want to stop I need it, I need you."

She's building to her climax. I can feel the walls of her tight little hole almost sucking back, burying me deeper inside of her. I pick up the pace and slam into her. The sounds of her wet cunt sucking on my cock begging for a release is almost too much.

"Tell me what you want baby. Tell me and I'll give it to you just this once. Be a good girl and tell me."

"Sakuna....oh fuck...fuck..please..I wanna feel you inside me...please sir...I'm so close.."

Her walls were pulsing, her climax was coming. I couldn't keep from spilling my cum inside her. Hot, thick ropes of white spurt everywhere. Coating her walls completely, it feels like it lasts so long. My cock jurks repeatedly spilling more and more inside of her. I pull out a little and watch the tip spurt just a little over her lips. It oozes all over it. I notice my balls are soaked, she had been squirting her juices all over me. I fucking loved it.

I collapsed on top of her. I could feel my control fading..before I knew it, I was gone.

SNAP

I came to when I heard Yuuji sniffling. He was looking at this girl in front of us. She was covered in her own blood and juices. He saw my cum seeping out of her pussy, as well as the slices there. He pulled her up gently. Sitting her up he untied the rope from her arms and placed it back into his pocket. She looked at him so confused as to the change in appearance. He stared back, unusually blank in his own mind. He helped her to her feet. She was not able to walk well. He picked her up bridal style and carried her out of the building. He brought her to a near by hospital and sat her in the edge of the parking lot on a small patch of grass. She looked back at him.

"You're not Sakuna anymore....are you...?"

"No. My name now is of no importance. I am sure if you yell loud enough someone will come get you. Make sure you are seen you will not recover from this on your own."

With that he began to walk away.

"Hey! I'm Ari..... I am sure I'll be seeing you again."

She yelled to him. He kept his pace.

"Why did you not take her inside? That seems very unlike you Itadori."

Silence follows, I can hear him searching for the words to answer me.

"You know Sukuna...sometimes I get tired of being the nice guy."

[quicksilversquared]

Feathers Fall, Wings Rise

Gabriel Agreste had found his wife unconscious after using the Peacock Miraculous before, but something was different this time. She seemed sicker, and even after hours had passed, she didn't even stir.

Obviously, something had to be done. And if that 'something' required using magic, then so be it.

links in the reblog

Gabriel Agreste found his wife's unconscious body on the floor of his office on Tuesday at half-past seven in the evening. She was barely breathing, and one glance around her person gave away the fact that she had used the Peacock again, despite her promise that her previous time was going to be the last, really.

Gabriel exchanged a worried look with Nathalie and hastily bundled his wife into a wheelchair and into the locked-down, secret bedroom in the back of the house without anyone noticing. He removed the broken Miraculous from her once she was moved to the bed, carting it back to the office- perhaps a bit of distance would help speed along her recovery- while Nathalie got Emilie hooked up to the medical machines they had managed to procure after previous collapses. They would monitor Emilie's condition until she had woken up again, and then still while she recovered, just to be safe.

"Sir, I've set up the oxygen mask as well," Nathalie told him when he returned, the Miraculous locked away in the safe until he could think of a better place to hide it, one where Emilie wouldn't find it and use it again. She looked worried. "Emilie seems to be in a deeper sleep than she's ever been before, so I thought it would be better to be safe than sorry. Are you sure that you don't want to call for an ambulance?"

"I'm positive," Mr. Agreste said tersely, because really, what could a hospital do besides pry a lot? Emilie's condition was caused by magic, and unless the staff had a magic expert on staff that they didn't tell the general public about- which Gabriel severely doubted- they wouldn't be able to do much anything besides sit back and wait. "We have top-of-the-line medical equipment here, and it's set up to tell me when anything changes. And you know that Emilie wouldn't be happy about people prying into what's causing her weakness. Even if she's done nothing wrong- well, some people have opinions about magic."

Nathalie pursed her lips, but nodded anyway. "As you wish, sir."

The evening passed, and Gabriel waved off Adrien's inquiries about where his mom was by telling him that she was tired and had gone to bed early. Adrien seemed disappointed but accepted that- after all, it wasn't the first time that it had happened- and Gabriel checked in on Emilie before going to bed.

She hadn't stirred.

Gabriel frowned deeper- Emilie really hadn't been careful enough with the Peacock, that much was obvious- before locking up the bedroom for the night so that no nosy house staff would look in.

This had happened before, of course, but it always put him on edge when it did.

And then the next morning dawned, and Emilie's vital signs had slipped firmly into coma territory.

"Sir, I think we should really call the hospital-" Nathalie started, but Gabriel silenced her with a single hand.

"Look into what medical equipment is required for dealing with a coma. We will ride it out ourselves. She will need nutrients, of course, in place of food, and fluids. I expect to have a full report on my desk by this evening of what we'll need and what's been ordered."

"Of course, sir."

"And as for me, I think I'll try to track down that man who sold Emilie the Peacock," Gabriel decided, scowling at the thought. They hadn't been interested in buying the man's other wares when they had met up with him- or at least they hadn't yet been willing to pay more than half a million euros for what honestly sounded like a fantasy story. Now- well, they had more experience with the one Miraculous that they had bought, and they were willing to shell out for the Miraculous that wasn't broken.

Sure, Emilie would have to acquaint herself with a different power set , but she couldn't continue with the Peacock. Saving her brother-in-law just wasn't worth her getting progressively weaker like this. Maybe she would even make a breakthrough with a different Miraculous and different powers at her fingertips.

By midday, Adrien had to be shooed off with more excuses about his mother resting. A call to his Mandarin tutor ensured that he would be busy for several hours of the afternoon, and then Gabriel continued his search for the Chinese man who had sold Emilie the Peacock. He had some information to go off of- there had been a shop, and they had just shown their interest in more powerful wares- but he still had to remember the shop name and find it online- if it was even listed online, that was.

"You could always call up tour guide companies in the area and see if you could pay one to go to the shop and get the phone number for it," Nathalie suggested as the evening drew to a close and Gabriel had made no progress. "It would be easier, and I'd bet that it wouldn't require a large fee, as long as you pick a company that's located in the area to start with."

Gabriel hummed in thought. "That's a good idea. Outsource the work. I'll do that over dinner- inform Adrien that his mother and I won't be joining him. And since Emilie doesn't look like she'll be up and ready to go out again for a couple days, please come up with a cover story for why she won't be around so he doesn't keep asking."

"Of course, sir."

"How goes the search for equipment needed for a coma?"

"It's been ordered and express-shipped, sir. We should be receiving several large boxes tomorrow morning. I'll arrive early to ensure that I'm here to receive it before any of the other staff can get a look at it."

Gabriel nodded. That was good. Speed was essential if they wanted Emilie to recover faster. They would give her the best care- without taking her to a hospital and dealing with nosy nurses and inquisitive doctors- to get her out of her latest slump, and then they would (hopefully) get another Miraculous so that she wouldn't keep driving herself into the ground.

He should have reached out to buy the other Miraculous sooner, he really should have. Now, there was no guarantee at all that the man would still have it.

They could only hope.

  It had been five more days, and Emilie still hadn't woken up. Her coma seemed stable enough for now, but she wasn't waking up.

What was the use in Gabriel having tracked down the shop and spent nearly two million to get the second Miraculous and all of the other Miraculous-related things the man had- the book, some scrolls, a couple half-burned paintings- if Emilie didn't wake up?

They couldn't keep on making excuses for why she wasn't around, either. They could only keep Adrien's curiosity at bay for so long, and Nathalie responding to his texts to Emilie only satisfied him so much. He was looking forward to her return from the relaxing retreat that they had told him she had gone to, and had Emilie actually been coming back from any sort of retreat- well, she would have gone to see her son first thing. For her not to would be weird.

"We're going to have to claim that she's vanished," Nathalie said grimly as she and Gabriel sat locked in the office, going over their options and all of the research that Nathalie had done about comas. "There's no other option, Gabriel, not unless you want to go to a hospital. And I know you said that there were maybe things in the book you ordered that would help her, and that would be hard to do in a hospital without people noticing."

Gabriel sighed, massaging his temples. He hadn't wanted to do this. There would be too much scrutiny of their family, both the police and the press trying to pick out any secrets that the Agreste family was trying to hide. But they had made all of their Miraculous-related orders from a secret account that shouldn't be traceable for this exact reason, and Nathalie always took care to wipe and replace any camera footage or computer trails of events that might be- well, suspicious. As long as they were careful, they should be able to pull off a disappearance without looking too suspicious. It would be hard to explain Emilie's reappearance once she woke up, but- well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

After all, at this point, it was only a matter of time before someone outside of the family noticed Emilie's absence and then their not reporting it first would look more suspicious.

"Tonight, we have to move Emilie downstairs, to her inspiration garden," Gabriel decided. "It'll take a lot of trips, to get her down and then move all of the equipment and a bed. Then tomorrow evening, we'll report her missing. Once the investigation's passed, we should probably improve the set-up there." He let out a long sigh. "I am so glad that we have that now. If we didn't…"

He trailed off. Nathalie nodded.

"For now, all we can do is make sure that there's nothing suspicious out. Even in the safes- you know that the police will want to see them. And bills, accounts that we're signed into online- all of it has to be cleared, and thoroughly." Gabriel glanced around at his office, trying to remember all of the places that Emilie stashed her journals and notebooks. Everything would have to be hidden today, because come tomorrow evening, or maybe the morning of the next day- well, the mansion would no doubt be swarmed with police looking for clues about Emilie Agreste's disappearance.

And Gabriel wasn't going to let them find anything.

  At eleven thirty-three, a phone call was made from the Agreste Mansion to the Paris police department reporting a missing person. Twelve minutes and forty-three second later, the first patrol car pulled through the gates of the mansion and two officers and a detective hopped out. Nathalie met them at the gate, ushering them into the house and to the office to meet with Mr. Agreste.

There was no going back now.

  Gabriel Agreste let out a long sigh as he settled into his chair. It had been a long day, right on the heels of an equally long week. Emilie hadn't improved at all in the week since the police visited, and- well, Gabriel really couldn't count himself at all surprised, though of course he was disappointed. Dealing with police coming in and out and checking footage for discrepancies and clues had been exhausting, particularly since they had had to keep the police away from both Adrien and his bodyguard to ensure that their stories wouldn't clash with the one that Gabriel and Nathalie had given the police.

Luckily, the police weren't terribly inclined to interrogate a mute man and a twelve-year-old when Gabriel and Nathalie were being so terribly cooperative.

Well. Outwardly cooperative, at least. They hadn't falsified anything more than they strictly had to- the more components there were, the harder it would be to keep their story straight and the easier it would be to overlook any details that could throw their entire story under doubt and closer inspection. As it was, making sure that they kept to the same details and didn't add anything for the entire week- an entire week full of police visits, some surprise and others not- had been hard enough.

And then they had had to deal with Adrien on top of all of that. He had been inconsolable, constantly dogging at Gabriel and Nathalie's footsteps in search of any answers at all. Gabriel had finally snapped at him- after all, how was he supposed to get any work done if Adrien insisted on following him around every moment of the day?- and he had finally stopped, but Gabriel didn't doubt that he would require some attention again at some point. After all, he had always taken after Emilie and her tendency to be overly emotional about things.

He could only hope that the next week would be better. The police had exhausted their investigation of their house- they had been very through about that- and all of the possible questions that they could possible think of. He could return to his work- he had fallen behind with all of the fuss of getting Emilie settled and the investigation and Adrien demanding attention- and at least get somewhat back on track until something more could be done. If he didn't, he might very well have to deal with investors backing out over worries about him not being able to keep up the quality of the company.

Now that Emilie was stable, Gabriel couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance with her at all of the fuss and scrutiny that they had gone through- and would no doubt continue to go through- because she couldn't be careful enough with the Peacock. She would have to be the one to deal with the fallout from her return and figure out the logistics there, because he had already spent too much time dealing with her mistake already.

Of course, for her to deal with things, she had to actually wake up. Gabriel couldn't deny that he was worried about that not happening, though, and his worry far outweighed his annoyance.

He loved Emilie, enough to tolerate her annoying family and her equally annoying insistence on actually inviting them around and helping them out when they got themselves into trouble. Now she had made herself seriously ill with her attempts to help, and he-

-he could very well be facing a future without her.

Huffing out an angry sigh, Gabriel shook the thought off and turned back to his work. He had no time for negative thinking- and blowing things out of proportion was Emilie's thing, not his- and it wouldn't do anyone any good. It would only distract him from his job. With another shake, he pulled up a few sketches and started working. After a few hours had passed- thankfully without interruptions from Adrien wanting to know if anything new had come up- Gabriel was starting to feel good about his progress. He had picked up his projects just where he had left off, with almost no pauses or other confusion about where he had intended for things to go.

And then Nathalie came in, carrying a box under her arm.

"It's the shipment from China, sir," she told him, stepping up next to his desk. "Where do you want it?"

Gabriel resisted the urge to growl and snap to just put it somewhere safe for now, couldn't she see that he was busy? It wouldn't be smart to alienate his only support so soon, not when he didn't know how long it would be before Emilie woke up. So he set his pen down and considered the box Nathalie was holding.

It wasn't what he was expecting. For some reason, he had been imagining a battered box, something that he might find forgotten in the back of a shipping truck, with a lot of stickers all over. This, though, looked completely normal, like it had come from one of Gabriel's own stores.

"I'll look at it later," he decided after a moment. After all, he had gotten the second Miraculous for Emilie to use, and clearly she wasn't going to be using anything when she was in a coma. But there was more that the second Miraculous in the package, and- well, Emilie was injured by Miraculous means, it wasn't far-fetched to think that maybe there was something in the package that might help her. "Tuck it under my desk for now. And keep an eye on the security cameras for the rest of the day, I don't want to risk having someone come in unexpectedly."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to put it down in the garden, then?" Nathalie inquired. "Emilie's garden, I mean."

Gabriel considered that. "Perhaps. As long as I can have enough light to read down there- I'll be working until dark, probably. Or at least until I get to a stopping point."

Nathalie nodded, her face completely impassive. "Of course, sir."

Gabriel turned back to his work as she headed off. He lasted for another hour, wrapping up the things he had been working on so that he wouldn't lose his spot before heading down to Emilie's underground garden. A quick check of the monitoring panel told him that there had been no change in Emilie's condition, so Gabriel turned his attention to the box. Nathalie had set up a table and a lamp so that he wouldn't have to kneel on the ground to open the box- that was much appreciated- and both a scissors and a knife to open the package. In a few deft swipes, the tape had been slit and Gabriel opened the box.

It was packed. There were scrolls and a book and a smaller box, one that was more battered and covered in tape. That presumably contained the non-broken Miraculous, and he would save that for later. Right now…

Gabriel reached into the box and grabbed the folded note on top. It was a receipt and a packing list, with a small scribbled handwritten note on the bottom. It looked like it had been run through a translator at some point, honestly- the grammar was a little stilted and there were some odd word choices- but he scanned it anyway.

And when he did, his heart froze.

Apparently the seller had gotten the Miraculous things from the family of a man who had died young and unexpectedly. He hadn't known until more recently that the man had apparently been using the Peacock, and an autopsy after the death hadn't turned up anything. He had just fallen into a coma one day… and never woke up.

That sounded far too familiar for Gabriel's taste. Suddenly, his blown-out-of-proportion worst-case scenario was all too possible.

Newly reenergized, Gabriel turned to the rest of the box. Surely something in it would offer something to help. The man who died probably didn't have the medical technology that he had for Emilie, and hadn't been able to be helped in time. The equipment would buy him some time to read through everything-

He opened the topmost scroll and promptly swore, his temper spiking as he looked at the unfamiliar characters. He couldn't read that, and it was like no alphabet that he had seen before. That suggested that it was in some sort of code.

Gabriel was a fashion designer, not a code-breaker! He didn't have time-

He stopped himself halfway through that thought. This was Emilie's life in danger. He could make the time. It would be easy enough to hire another couple of designers and one more administrative staff person to pick up the bulk of his workload so that outsiders wouldn't notice any difference. He wasn't going to step back from designing entirely- that just wasn't happening- but he could clear on a solid chunk of his day to work on deciphering the code.

Gabriel let out another huff at the thought of the lost time before continuing to pull scrolls out. They were all in that same code, with only the occasional picture, and he set them aside for the time being in favor of pulling out the book.

It was in code, too. Really, he shouldn't have expected anything different.

At least there were pictures.

Gabriel flipped through the book, scanning over pictures of superheroes and trying to eke out any information he could from them. A flash of purple flipped by, and Gabriel quickly flipped back to see a page with the Butterfly Miraculous, the one that he had ordered. He couldn't read anything, but he could get the gist of the powers from the pictures. And frankly, those powers- well, they were incredibly similar to the Peacock's, from what Gabriel could tell. They might have been more useful for Emilie's goal, really.

But that didn't help him.

Gabriel bookmarked the page and continued on. Close to the end, he spotted another drawing. A much more interesting one.

It looked like- like two Miraculous, combined. And on the opposite page, a man that had power. Serious powers.

There was no way to confirm it, of course. Gabriel couldn't read the text that went along with the picture. But it looked like if he got those two Miraculous in the picture, it would allow him to weld strong enough magic to wake Emilie up and remove her from danger. The only problem, of course, was how to get his hands on those two Miraculous. The old shopkeeper that he had gotten the box of Miraculous things from didn't have any more. Gabriel would have to hunt them down, and he didn't have the slightest idea of where to start. The easiest way would be to lure them out somehow.

….but how?

Almost automatically, Gabriel's eyes slid to the side, to the battered box that housed the non-broken Miraculous, and the start of a plan started to fall into place, puzzle pieces slowly coming together to create a bigger picture.

He had to be safe about it, no matter how much he wanted Emilie up and out of danger right away. Rushing into using magical powers was how Emilie got sick, after all, and if he got ill… well, it wasn't worth thinking about. He was smarter than that.

One way or another, Gabriel was going to get Emilie back. Of that, he was certain.

[coldwindsdarknights]

@exuberantocean @summerreign4077 here’s the fleshed out project.  Not really any big challenge, more of a “day in the life of the 4077″ with the characters from mid S2 to mid S3 on display.  I wanted to do something with Trap and Blake, because while I don’t like their characters as much, they had a huge influence on the show.

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

“Here’s to Marie, Anna, and a geisha to be named later,” Hawkeye said, packing his bag for a week in Tokyo.  

“You know, one of these days, we might actually have to attend a medical conference instead of just checking in and hitting the ginza,” Trapper responded, causing Hawkeye to stop packing before both broke into laughter.

They were both packed and in the truck when Henry caught them.  You’d never know he was in charge of a military post, from his fishing cap to his general ignorance of the goings-on of the camp to his inability to make a decision.

“Now, listen, guys.  I’m begging you.  At least show up for the first lecture.  Its at 3pm.  You won’t have time for a round of golf and none of the girls will be out working yet, ok? So just, go to one lecture, show your faces, and then go off and make sure I don’t hear about anything you do, ok?” Blake said, all but pleading with two men under his command to follow his orders and attend one of 15 scheduled lectures.

Hawkeye and Trapper exchange looks, “Well, when you put it like that, I guess we can go to the one lecture.  Since there’s nothing else to do.”

“Thank you, now off you go and have all the fun I wish I was having.”

“Henry, you’re a prince!”  Trapper cried as he put the car in gear and nearly ran Radar over.

“Choppers!” 

Blake sighed and held out his hand, “Alright boys, you won’t be needing those passes, plenty of dancing partners here.”

Hawkeye and Trapper look at each other with resignation and more tiredness than either had any right too as young surgeons.  The handed over their passes, picked up their bags, and trudged back to the Swamp.

“Go figure.”

~~~~

“Nurse, I need suction here.” “Now honey, mind my fingers, they’re not as nimble as they used to be.” “What do you say you and me, behind the supply tent, with a couple glasses of orange juice to keep our energy up?”

“Can we get some quiet in here?!? This is surgery, not the local dive bar.” Burns shouted, taking his hands off his patient to the young man’s unconscious relief.

“I don’t know Frank, I’ve seen as much blood at my local dive as I have here, as many beautiful women are present, and I certainly feel drunk.” Hawkeye shot back, tired after six hours of surgery with at least two more to go but not willing to let Frank get away with his misbehavior. “Its even complete with the town idiot.”

“Oh, I’m an idiot now?”

“I never said it was you, did I?”

“Well, who else would it be?”

“Captain, that’s enough.” Major Houlihan ordered as she supervised the nurses, “There’s enough work here for everyone.”

“Especially since we’re gonna hafta bring all of Ferret-face’s patient’s back in here to remove sponges, re-do stitches, and put their only kidney’s back in.” Trapper muttered, causing Nurse Able to laugh. “Ah, see, now there’s more of that behind the supply tent, if you’re up for it.”

“Captain, I happen to know you are a married man, so no I won’t be meeting you behind the supply tent,” Able replied, shaking her head.

“Well, I’m single!” Hawk quipped, spying opportunity and jumping before he looked.

“You’re taking me to Rosie’s tonight, captain!” Nurse Carter exclaimed, but without heat because every nurse, upon arriving to the 4077 was told that the food was awful, Klinger was the local section 8, and Hawkeye was great for fun but not for settling down.

~~~~

“Pierce! MacIntyre!” Frank barked as he exited post-op.

“Yo!” “Departed!” They answered in well-rehearsed chorus.

“You two are unbelievable, embarrassing me like that in front of the nurses!”

“Frank, we couldn’t possibly embarrass you more than you already do asking for the wrong instruments, going slower than Henry Blake, and needing help twice as often besides.  They know you’re a bungler in the operating room, and according to Margaret, you’re a bungler while operating.”

“You- you- you guys!” Frank spluttered, storming off outside the camp.  It was already dark and since both Able and Carter had canceled, the captains retired to the Swamp for light fluid and light sleep.

~~~~~

“Has anyone seen Frank?” Major Houlihan asked at what was called breakfast, though few were breaking their fast, “I haven’t seen him since surgery and we were supposed to meet up afterwards.”

“No I haven’t seen him,” Father Mulcahey answered, “Was it something important?”

“Father, it was earth-shaking.” Pierce said, sincerely enough that Mulcahey believed him and Margaret glared daggers at him. “No, we haven’t seen him since he marched out of camp.”

“Marched out of camp? Why would he do a thing like that?”

Trapper paused his eating, “With any luck, he’s going to volunteer with the Chinese, that should triple their casualty count.”

“Colonel!”

“Alright, alright. Radar!-”

“Get a gang together, look for Burns, don’t get caught by the Chinese, yes sir.” “Get a gang together, look for Burns, don’t get caught by the Chinese, okay? Good.”

~~~~~~

“Sir! We found Major Burns!” Radar reported with the same cheer all NCO’s show when reporting something they’d much rather have no reason to report.

“Where was he?” Blake asked, looking up from his most recent attempt at making a fly-lure and sticking his hand with the hook in the process.

“Officer’s latrine sir, and if I may, I think we need to have Igor wash his hands and start building another one.”

“Really? Didn’t he did this two weeks ago?”

“Yes, sir, but Major Burns has been under all kinds of stress lately, what with Major Houlihan having a weekend in Seoul, his wife writing that she volunteered to supervise a church dance, and Captains Pierce and MacIntyre-”

“I know all about Captains Pierce and MacIntyre and I don’t want to know about Captains Pierce and MacIntyre.  Have Igor dig a new latrine, with a few extra feet of depth at Frank’s end.”

“Yes, sir!”