#and now I'm just kind of aware of it immediately after waking up instead of when something triggers it later

[thethingything]

I've just woke up and for some reason I'd had one dream where it was me hanging out with some people and them actually treating me like me instead of treating the system like one person, and then me almost bursting into tears because they kept giving me hugs, and then another dream that was just me screaming at some of our abusers and bringing up everything we've had to bottle up and not really talk about in the past...

anyway yeah I was aware that some things were getting to me but wow okay

[lost-in-lamentation]

failures, together.

a/n: (・・;)

content: not long after arriving at the devildom, you find yourself needing some affirmation from the representative of greed.

warnings: reader does kind of have a mental breakdown, but nothing intense.

mammon × gen!reader. hurt/comfort.

for @lulusupreme my beloved oomf (sorry i'm late)

“i just don't know what to do.”

“look, i don’t have any advice either. i'm only babysitting you cause lucifer threw you at me.” mammon clicked his tongue softly, turning away from your figure standing in the doorway. “if it weren't for him keeping goldie in jail, i would have tossed you outside already.”

“aren't you helpful.” with gritted teeth, you slammed the door and stormed further into his room, forcefully planting yourself on the other end of the couch.

mammon jerked at the action, whipping back around to face you. “oi, the hell you think you're doing?!”

grumbling, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead of you at empty space. “i don't know, mammon. waiting to wake up from this nightmare, maybe?”

“we already told ya, human. this ain’t no dream or nightmare.”

“and i already told you, i have a name.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. my only job is to make sure you're not in immediate danger so just… don't go outside, ‘kay? i don't wanna have to watch you all the time.”

you felt your anger starting to bubble over, your knuckles white as you balled your hands into fists. “it's not fair.”

mammon only snorted at your statement. “damn right it's not fair. how come i had to get stuck with you? why not asmo-”

“no- what's not fair, is that i had to be dragged down here! for some stupid program? asking me what i think i'm doing, well what about you? what are you doing bringing a human like me down here?!” your chest began heaving with the effort to breathe and yell, the heat behind your fury turning white as you snapped at the demon.

the second born barely gave you a glance, his voice raising to match yours. “hell if i know! i didn't want some useless ragdoll with me here anyways!”

the words echoed in your brain, causing the last string of composure to snap. “useless… ragdoll…”

mammon finally turned his head to look at you, ready to let loose another string of harsh insults, only to stop when he saw the expression on your face. “uh… human? what's going on with you?”

you lifted your hands shakily, palms up as they stopped just before they could cup your own face. “that’s all i am, isn’t it? useless?”

“o-oi, you’re freaking me out here-”

“you agree, don’t you?!” with shallow breaths, you snapped at him, feeling your desperation spill out in the form of tears. “so then why did they bring me here…?” you curled into yourself slowly, hands wrapping at the base of your neck and gathering fistfuls of your shirt. “i’m not worth anything- i won’t be able to do anything,” you whispered out. “mammon, i’ve barely done anything yet and i’m already a failure.”

silence washed over you like an unforgiving wave. amidst your muted sniffles, you couldn’t make out any movements from the demon on the other side of the couch. after a few minutes had passed, you debated about getting up, hoping to run away to your room with no mention of this incident ever again. instead, when you opted to stand up, there was a much gentler voice than you imagined that broke through the quiet.

“i doubt it,” mammon whispered back.

ever so slightly, you shifted your gaze to the side to look at him. “... huh?”

mammon, now put on the spot, ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “trust me. in lucifer’s eyes, there’s no bigger failure than me. most of the time, at least.”

“really?” feeling a little braver, you lifted your head back up. you were just in time to see the tips of his ears dusted with embarrassment.

“ya don’t have to sound so happy about that!” mammon spared you a gaze that only lasted a second, perhaps too aware of the way you looked at him the way he wished his brothers did once in a while. “if there’s one thing about those guys, it’s that they know what they’re doing. and if they say you can do it, then you can. probably.”

as the last of your tears slipped away, you returned mammon’s words with a shaky nod. “you don’t think i’ll fail?”

scoffing, mammon crossed his arms and returned to his usual demeanor. “i didn’t say that.”

“oh.”

“but,” he continued a heartbeat later. “if lucifer calls ya a failure for no reason… you can always come and find me.” as soon as the words left his mouth, mammon jumped up to his feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides.

“so that we can be failures together?” you asked, a smile breaking into your expression.

“hey, even if we’re both failures, i’m still more fun than that stuck-up brother of mine.” the demon grabbed his leather jacket from his coat rack, shrugging it on before fishing around in the pockets for a set of keys. “let’s get going; i’m still babysitting you after all.”

you cleaned your face with your sleeves, making sure your eyes were dry before hopping up to follow mammon. “where are we going?”

“you’ve been here almost two weeks and ya still haven’t seen the whole of the devildom." mammon said, half laughing at the absurdity of it all. "can’t have you getting lost before you can do anything else.”

a/n: season 23 of my life begins today! and episode one is with mammon apparently

comments and reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 2)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N & Harry separately reflect on the event that brought them together and cope with the feelings it raised.

AN: It's a bit of a shorter chapter than I originally planned, guess I'm still getting back in the swing of writing after a very crazy week. This chapter is very introspective I would say. Less action than I normally include, but I thought all this was important to set up future chapters, if that makes sense.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1

CW: Mentions of a previous attempted assault

Word Count: 3.2k

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On Sunday morning you wake up in a cold sweat. You certainly hadn’t had a peaceful night of sleep. You’d been plagued with nightmares of the alpha and what he had done.

It’s early, the sun is just starting to rise, but you give up on sleep. You know that if you close your eyes, you’re just going to keep seeing that man and the paralyzing fear will come back. Distractions are the way to go.

As always, you make yourself a cup of tea to start the day. But it doesn’t sooth you the way it normally does. In fact, you’re feeling even more anxious. You’re confused why a scent you now associate with Sarah, one of the nicest alphas you’ve ever met, is causing such a negative reaction in your body.

You start to run through everything that happened the night before. It all comes back in vivid detail. Up until one point when it suddenly went dark, and your memories become fuzzy and confusing.

What the hell had even happened there? Because it wasn’t a drop. You had dropped twice before, and this was different. You’re completely unaware during a drop and have no memories after. Instead, you’re just left feeling dizzy, and so, so alone.

But this time wasn’t like that. It was hazy, sure, but you were still somewhat aware of your surroundings. You were aware that even after you practically lost consciousness, he still moved closer to your neck and tried to forcibly scent you. You remember falling, knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch yourself. But someone was there to break your fall and help you sit.

That’s when you were surrounded by the tea scent. At the time you had no idea it belonged to such a kind and gentle person. You just knew there was still an alpha touching you, and you had no clue what their intentions might be. But then you became aware of the calming pheromones they were releasing. This immediately helped you relax and made you start to trust this unknown alpha.

You had picked up on the presence of another alpha nearby. One who was releasing a bitter, angry scent before quickly switching to a calming one as well. Now you know that it was Harry, though his scent at the time was nothing like the wonderful one that permeated his dressing room.

The next memories are quite embarrassing to remember. You’re happy that Rachel had taught you about Harry’s band before the show. Because at least you could identify that the man who’s lap you were in was his guitarist, Mitch.

And then you think about how wonderful they all were. How they took care of you and made sure you were okay. Especially Harry.

You still can’t figure out what that was about. He was so protective, so worried. That alone had your omega trying to stake claim on the man. Never before had someone cared that much about you and your wellbeing. And then his scent. God, it was amazing. You’re eternally grateful you didn’t see him again after the show. You know you would have said or done something stupid. His smell would probably be more prominent after a show, sweat washing off the extra scent blockers he obviously wore in public.

Your mind starts to wander thinking about how delicious his scent probably is when it’s direct and unmasked. It’s a good thing your phone dings, pulling you back to the present before your thoughts can turn into inappropriate territory.

It’s Jada, sending you the videos she took the night before and informing you that Harry will set aside up to 6 tickets for whichever day you choose. You thank her for the videos and let her know you’ll get back to her after talking to your friends.

You’re not ready yet to talk about what happened at the show, so you hold off texting your friends for the moment. You know you’ll need to explain what happened, since you don’t want to lie about why you’re getting these tickets, but it can wait a few days.

Getting back to your distractions you spend the day deep cleaning your apartment and running errands. Anything to keep your mind busy.

You send the videos to Rachel and make plans for her to come over for lunch Saturday. You’ll tell her the truth about the concert then. Violet reaches out in the group chat, checking that you and Ameila will still be coming over for your usual Friday night hangout that week. That somehow leads to a discussion about favorite types of soup and by the time you’re all done debating broccoli cheddar versus tomato basil, it’s time for bed.

You’re exhausted from the sleepless night prior and you hope that you’re so tired you won’t have any dreams. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. Of course not. No, you once again have nightmares of the alpha. Unlike the night before, when it had just been repeats of what happened, now it was what could have happened. All the worst-case scenarios.

Monday morning rolls around, and you might actually be more tired than you were before bed. You go to make your cup of tea and see hot chocolate mix on the shelf. For a moment you hesitate and then grab the container, making a mug of cocoa. It’s a bit of an odd choice, since it has zero caffeine and it’s August, but it feels like the right thing to do.

The smell of the chocolate immediately settles you, and you feel more at ease than you have in days. You have a theory why, but you try not to think too deeply about it as you continue your morning routine.

You sit at your desk to begin working for the day. You normally love that you have a completely remote job as a data analyst. But it’s a rough morning for you. You’re restless, completely unable to sit still, like there’s ants crawling under your skin.

Nothing gets done, so when it hits 1PM and you still haven’t crossed a single thing off your to-do list you decide to leave the apartment to get lunch. You pack up your laptop, thinking maybe your afternoon will be more productive with a change of scenery.

You grab a sandwich from the local deli and walk to the nearby park. You sit at a table next to some rose bushes. Their fragrance is strong, and it settles you. You sit for hours, completing all the work you wanted to accomplish that day.

It’s obvious why the roses helped you feel better. For the same reason the chocolate smell calmed you that morning. You’re embarrassed that Harry’s scent, even just reminders of it, has such an effect on you, but you lean into it.

There’s a boutique by the park that you know sells candles and other scented things, so you go in with one goal in mind. After smelling way more candles than is probably socially acceptable you find one that you think will work. It’s woodsy, and just a little floral. It’s missing the chocolate component, but you figure it’s as close to Harry’s scent as you’ll get. It also comes as a reed diffuser and a room spray, so you purchase all three.

That night before bed you set up the diffuser and have another cup of hot chocolate. You finally sleep peacefully through the night and wake up refreshed.

You follow this routine all week, switching your normal tea to hot chocolate, working outside by the rose bushes, and ensuring your home smells like Harry.

On Friday night you head over to Violet’s house.  The night starts off as usual, take out and a movie that you barely watch as you catch up and talk about your weeks.

“So, how was the concert?” Amelia asks.

For a second you nearly lie. Almost say, oh it was great and show the videos Jada took for you. But they’re your best friends, the people you can tell anything. You take a deep breath and say, “He definitely puts on a good show. But unfortunately, I didn’t really see it.”

“What do you mean?” Violet asks.

“There was this alpha in the audience,” you begin, and your friends immediately tense up, knowing where the story is likely to go.

“I noticed him the second I got there and moved to blend in with the crowd. I thought I had lost him, but I went with some girls to the bathroom and apparently he’d followed me and waited outside. When I walked out of the bathroom he used his alpha voice and made me follow him to a secluded area.”

“What a bastard!” Amelia interjects and Violet nods her head in agreement.

They see the tears welling in your eyes and move closer, each wrapping an arm around you before you continue.

“Once he got me alone he used his alpha voice again. I couldn’t move or say anything. He tried to scent me, and honestly was probably going to do a lot worse things. But I went into a half-drop or something.” You pause, taking a deep breath and they hold you even tighter to comfort you.

After calming down again you say, “And then things got weird.”

“I’m sorry, they weren’t weird already?” Amelia asks.

“Honestly, no. They were awful, but as an omega, not unexpected. What was weird, was waking up literally sitting in Mitch Rowlands lap with Sarah Jones and Harry Styles watching me from across the hall.”

“Harry Styles?” Violet says incredulously.

“Yes,” you reply.

“The Harry Styles?” Ameila adds.

“Yes, guys. The real Harry Styles.”

“Why was he there? Wouldn’t security be taking care of the situation? Not the performer?”

You realize Amelia makes a good point. Why did Harry and his band members respond to this incident? Wouldn’t it make more sense that they stay far away from potentially dangerous situations?

After thinking for a moment, you say, “He and Sarah are alphas. They probably sensed something was wrong and came to help. I wasn’t able to say anything, but I was able to send out some distress signals, so I guess they responded to that.”

“And this all happened before the show?” Violet asks.

“It was while the opener was on. And then they took me to Harry’s dressing room to talk to a police officer and have a medic check that I was ok. I was planning to go back to the crowd once they finished but Harry wouldn’t let me.”

“Wouldn’t let you? Sounds like another controlling alpha,” Violet says.

“No, no, that was bad wording. I mean, yea, he didn’t want me going back to the crowd again but not in a controlling way. He wanted to protect me. He said his alpha was still worried about me and he wouldn’t be able to perform if he didn’t know that I was safe.”

“Wow, that’s kind of intense,” Amelia says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Mostly. I think.”

They both give you a look and you explain, “I mean, it sucked, obviously. I hate that alphas have that kind of control over me. And I keep thinking about how much worse it could have been. But nothing too bad ended up happening. Plus, I got to meet Harry Styles so that’s a win.”

“What was he really like?” Violet questions.

“Well, he’s just as kind as everyone says. Most of the time he gave me space since he’s also an alpha, but at one point he held my hand for like, a second, and it felt like it’d been burned. I literally couldn’t believe his skin had touched mine. And the way his alpha was still on edge even when the danger was gone, I still don’t know how to explain that. Plus, his scent, God-” you cut yourself off before you can embarrass yourself about your obsession.

“Oh no, you can’t stop there!” Amelia says. “What is it like?”

For some reason you want to keep the specifics to yourself, so you reply, “I dunno, but it has this warmth to it, and like, a fresh outdoorsy smell. Anyway, uhm, I watched the concert on a TV in his dressing room. He’s giving me some tickets for any of the other New York shows, and I want you two and Rachel to come so we need to pick a date.”

You guys start to look at your calendars and write down a few of the shows that will work.

“When I see Rachel tomorrow I’ll see if any of these days work for her too,” you say once you have a short list.

“Does she know what happened?” Violet asks.

“Not yet. She doesn’t even know I’m an omega. I’m going to tell her everything tomorrow.”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yea, I mean I trust her. She’s a good friend. She’s just a newer friend and it takes me awhile to open up about my, you know, status.”

“If you need us, for anything at all, you call or text and we’re there okay?”

You nod and smile, knowing that you have the two best friends in the world and that everything will be alright. You guys finish the night with some ice cream, and if your friends are curious about you picking chocolate when strawberry has always been your favorite, they don’t comment on it.

Lunch with Rachel the next day is a little more nerve wracking, but by the end you feel so much better. You explain everything about yourself and what happened at the concert the week before. She’s more knowledgeable about omegas than you expected, and she explains her favorite cousin is an omega.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I encouraged you to go alone. I know how dangerous outings like that are. Seriously I think a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders when my cousin officially bonded her alpha and had protection from him.”

“Rach, I’m a big girl, I chose to go alone. I thought my suppressants and scent blockers would have hidden my secret, but sometime alphas can still literally sniff us out.”

“Do you think the medicines are losing their effectiveness? Like you’ve built an immunity cause you’ve been on them so long?”

“They’re supposed to last a decade before that happens, I’ve only been on these eight years.”

“Probably couldn’t hurt to check though, right?”

You agree with her and make a mental note to at least put a call out to your doctor soon.

“And no concerts alone, got it?” You smile at her protectiveness and nod in agreement.

“Definitely not alone, but I am being given tickets for us to go to another show since I basically missed the first one.”

“Seriously? When?”

“I invited Violet and Amelia, and we have some dates that work for us. Can you do any of them too?”

You settle on September 10th and you text Jada later that day to let her know. She responds almost immediately which surprises you because you assume they’re getting ready for his show that night.

After talking to all your friends you’re feeling much better than you have all week. Plus, knowing you get to see Harry’s show soon has you excited. You don’t think you’ll get to see him again, but maybe just being in the same room will be enough to settle your omega.  And hopefully it can show your omega how truly unattainable the alpha is, and you can stop obsessing over him.

***

Harry’s pacing in his dressing room. It’s Saturday, night five of his NYC residency, and exactly one week since he met Y/N. And it’s been one week since he’s seen Y/N. And his alpha is restless.

“Harry, I’m sure she’s fine,” Mitch says firmly, ever the voice of reason.

“Then why hasn’t she texted Jada back? It’s been days!”

“She probably just hasn’t been able to coordinate with her friends yet,” Sarah says as she tries to soothe him.

Harry sits on the couch and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know why I’m like this right now. Why I’m so worried about her.”

“Well, it’s probably because she’s an omega. And you are a good alpha. Your instinct is to take care of her. And she nearly got hurt. Here. At your show. And I’m thinking you feel like you are at least partially responsible, which is dumb, because you’re not. But you’re a good person, and you care deeply, which makes you maybe a bit emotional about things like this?”

Harry takes in Sarah’s words. She’s right. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he feels guilty. He’s devastated that this happened at his show, a place that he always thought was safe for his fans.

“What if it’s more than that?” Harry asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” Mitch questions.

“What if she’s not just an omega?”

Sarah and Mitch expect him to continue, so when he just sits there silently they share a confused look.

“Care to explain?” Mitch says, encouraging him to open up to them.

“I feel like maybe she’s special. I mean, my alpha has definitely taken a liking to her. I was ready to rip that other alphas throat out when I saw his hands on her. And the only way I was able to do the concert was because I knew she was basically locked away from everyone else with security outside the door. I had to know she was safe. And I hate not knowing if she’s okay now. Plus, there was a moment.”

“A moment?” Sarah presses.

 “Yea I uhm, we were alone in the room right before the show. And I held her hand. Just to like, reassure her I guess. It was only a second, but I swear to God there were sparks. I’ve never felt anything like it, especially not from just holding hands.”

“Do you feel connected to her, or is your alpha connected to her omega?” Sarah asks to clarify.

“I honestly don’t know. Normally I can separate the two, but the situation brought my alpha out more than usual.”

Before anyone can ask more questions there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Harry calls out and Jada enters the room.

“Hey Harry. Y/N just texted, she and three friends are planning to come to the show on September 10th if that still works.”

“Yes, of course! Please send her four VIP tickets. In a box or somewhere sectioned off if possible. And passes to come backstage before the show, okay?”

“Got it, I’ll send her everything they’ll need.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Jada.”

She smiles, waving to Mitch and Sarah as she walks out of the room.

“Well, there you go,” Sarah says. “She is obviously fine if she’s texting and making plans. And you’ll see her again on the 10th!”

“If your alpha can last three weeks,” Mitch says teasingly.

“Shut up,” Harry drawls out, smiling at his best friend.

Mitch may think it’s a joke, but Harry truly doesn’t know if he can go three more weeks without seeing Y/N. Maybe three weeks will be enough to calm down his alpha, and shake this obsession he has with the lovely omega.

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AN: Thanks again for reading this story! Chapter 3 is already in the works, and I am very excited for the Harry & Y/N reunion.

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305 @creativelyeva @daphnesutton @selluequestrian @lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely @eversincehs1

[quirkle2]

JUST READ EVERYTHING THERE IS ABOUT THE ZOMBIE AU !!!!! LOVE THIS SO MUCH WAAAA

you mentioned that ritsu, by the end of the story, is broken and practically insane. once shigeo is cured and "back to normal," i'm guessing that ritsu doesn't exactly go back to "being normal" either :( he'd gone through too much to be the same after everything... do you think he ever goes back to old habits and treats mob like he's still a zombie, only to be shellshocked at the fact that it's all over?

also this au is very reminiscent of this post (grieving the undead) https://www.tumblr.com/applejuicewerewolf/735120232698593280/no-need-to-keep-this-in-the-tags-youre

WEEEE IMSO GLAD U LIKE IT it's the direct result of my brainworms

yes ritsu is definitely Not Normal by the end and he should be put into therapy immediately. poor kid's seen way too much at way too young of an age, and he's been put through unreal amounts of stress that is definitely not good for a growing brain. he most certainly does not go back to "normal" when mob is cured, and much like his brother, he's never quite the same as he was before

he Absolutely has trouble squashing old habits, yes. he tends to just Do Shit for mob that he's fully capable of doing now, no matter how simple, bc as a zombie mob couldn't rly do all that. he opens food packages for him automatically, he unlatches doors even though mob is perfectly capable of Figuring Out a Lock. sometimes when it's raining ritsu will even pull mob's hood over his head—he used to do that for him when he was a zombie, to keep the rain off him, even if zombie mob didn't rly give a damn if it was raining or not

if mob were anybody else, he'd prolly find it a bit insulting, but instead he finds it kind of amusing most of the time

sometimes he grabs mob's hand and leads him around and it's only when they're like halfway there that he realizes what he's doing. mob doesn't particularly mind, but when his goal is elsewhere and they're aiming for different places he has to go "ritsu ..." and it's this awkward blinking session like . oh .right. yes.ofc

i think mob would ? maybe get a little annoyed at the hovering that ritsu totally unintentionally does. he hovers so closely bc zombie mob never rly minded, or ,, noticed. so now that he's back to "human" levels of awareness it is . extremely obvious. and it's not even that ritsu is Worried, it's just like he's spent so long Hovering and Fretting that it's just kinda second nature to him now

it's a strange role-reversal—it's very weird for mob to wake up and have scattered memories of the last two years, and suddenly feel like he's the younger brother instead. ritsu is now the caretaker, and it's... strange. and honestly, the first real goal mob has in mind after waking up and recovering for a while is settling back into the role of older brother. it's important to him

but much like how reigen now has trouble corralling that kid, mob has some difficulty getting ritsu to settle back into it too. he's too high-strung and stressed and permanently scarred to rest and let people take care of him, too used to being the caretaker himself. for the longest time he was forced into the mindset of, "you stop, you die," so ritsu keeps going bc his instincts r shot and he feels like he's in danger all the time

after a while of gentle nudging, mob gets the hang of convincing ritsu to lean on people, to lean on him, but mob is quietly distraught at the overall state of ritsu's mental well-being. it takes him a while to rly get a grasp of how bad it truly is, but once he realizes the damage, he's .. so fuckin upset w himself for letting this happen to his brother

as if it's rly his fault at all, but he regrets being slow and getting overrun by that zombie horde to begin with. maybe if he hadn't turned, ritsu would be a lot better off now—they woulda been able to join a settlement, and live in a place where there is supplies and food and clothing and other people to talk to other than your mumbling brother who no longer fully understands you. it likely would've spared him a lot of trauma

and alsoYES that post is EXACTLY it the concept of mourning a person u still see every day is ougougouhoguhg ,., .,witsu ..................

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Another little fic for you in case anybody wanted to see it (I have hundreds lmao)

This one is for the A.P. Bio fandom- Jack/Lynette of course.

“Jack… Jack…”

A hand in his hair, gently stroking before it moves to his reddened cheeks, his nose. He can hear himself breathing as he grows more aware, shallow, congested breaths through slightly parted lips because his sinuses are so inflamed.

Lynette's thumb brushes over his cheeks again, soothing the raw skin there, smoothing it out and massaging away the tightness that's been lingering for the past day or so.

“Wake up, sweetheart. You've got to drink some water.”

At last, Jack manages to force his heavy eyelids open. Lynette is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him pityingly as he paws at the bridge of his nose and pulls himself upright against the headboard.

“Here.” she murmurs gently, handing him the glass of water. “Small sips.”

There's no danger of him trying to swallow too much. Even tiny amounts make him feel like he's being waterboarded- not being able to breathe through his nose sucks.

After he's finished, Lynette gently takes the condensation-covered glass from his hand and sets it down on the bedside table. Jack sinks back against the pillows.

“Th-thanks.”

“It's nothing… how are you feeling?”

Jack swallows past the roughness in his throat. He ought to be feeling better now- he's over the stupid cold his students gave him a week or so ago- but instead a sinus infection has decided to join the party as well.

So much for pushing through. He can hardly speak now, let alone feign teaching.

“M’okay.” he murmurs nasally, wincing at the pressure he can feel with even the slightest movements. “Just a… just a stupid cold.”

Lynette rolls her eyes fondly, stroking his hair again.

“Correction: stupid sinusitis… You're allowed to not feel well, Jack. I promise.”

His head pounds. He sniffs, immediately regretting it when the sense of pressure in his nose only increases and makes his headache worse. The wince deepens.

“Not…. not super comfortable.” He admits. “H-hurts a little.”

His girlfriend sighs, eyes tracking the redness of his cheeks and nose.

“I'm not surprised. It looks super sore, and that's just on the outside. Can't imagine the kind of mess you've got brewing inside.”

Jack chuckles, shoving her gently. “Gross, L-lyns. Gross.”

She grins. “Yeah, you know I'm right. I did get you something that I think might help, though?”

By this point, his eyes have closed again. His head doesn't hurt so much this way.

“W-what’s that?”

“This.”

He doesn't see what she's brought but he certainly feels it- the warm dampness of a cloth, swiped gently across his burning cheeks and nose. Heat. Wondrous, wondrous heat.

Jack groans audibly. “Ohhhh. Oh, Lyns.”

“Good, huh?” She murmurs.

“Mmmmmm…”

The cloth is withdrawn for a second, and Jack hears the brief trickling of water as it's wrung out and dipped in again. Thankfully, the soothing heat meets his skin quickly.

“I can't leave it on for too long,” Lynette explains, massaging with every movement while Jack lays there, bathing in bliss. “Because of your fever. But a few minutes shouldn't do much harm.”

Jack hums vaguely. He can't seem to muster up the power of speech anymore, so relaxed that he feels himself falling asleep again.

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“Mmm.”

The covers are drawn back up over his chest. The cloth continues to swipe, dip, swipe, dip. Soon, he forgets what's even happening. The dripping of water becomes the rush of a waterfall, the warmth on his cheeks the heat of a tropical sun.

“Go to sleep, Jack.”

He tries to give her a response. It comes out as more of a whimper than a coherent word.

“I know.” She whispers. “Just sleep. Let me take care of you.”

He listens to the waterfall, sees giant leaves weighed down by droplets of rain as the sunlight streams through the canopy.

Lynette listens to the sound of his exerted breaths transforming into relaxed snores. Sees the wince in his expression melt away until, at last, his jaw goes slack and peace reigns.

[floralembarrassment]

hello! i love all your one-shots but i just read he'll be alright and it's really sticking with me and i was wondering if you would consider writing a regulus pov of it? i love your writing!

Hello! Thank you for the kind words! I'm sorry this one took a bit longer, I wasn't sure how I wanted to show Regulus' side of things so I hope this does it justice! with love

I'll Try (1/1) (jegulus | the black brothers)

(CW: inferred self harm/SI - handle yourselves with care my loves!)

Regulus had woken up in a hospital after he wished he had never woken up at all. Strangely though, he finally felt something akin to joy in opening his eyes. The monitors beeping around him, the bright lights above him, the scratchy blanket over him, were all things that would normally drive him into a fit but instead he could only feel grateful for them. Because he could feel. He could feel and hear and see and smell. He could even taste the dryness of the air. Regulus was still a bit out of it so he couldn't control the smile that began forming in his lips.

As his consciousness came back online, however, he was flooded with reality. He became aware again that he was still here, and held at the same time as his gratitude some anger that he would have to keep going. Keep trying. He was so so tired and that exhaustion hadn't gone away. It was quickly hard to breath.

He realized part of the weight on his chest was his brother, and quickly nudged him to wake up and move so he could take a deep breath.

And while they were so many parts of each other, with similarities, and shared understandings, in this moment the Black brothers had very different reactions.

Sirius jumped up and tears of joy streamed down his face. "Oh you're awake, you're awake. It's okay Reggie you're okay," he rambled. He touched Regulus' face, cradling him gently like he was precious and needed protection. Regulus let him, because he let his weight fall into Sirius' palm, hoping to transfer some of his heaviness, his way of wordlessly asking for help this moment.

"Sirius," Regulus croaked. He couldn't keep his tears at bay.

"It's okay, I'm here," Sirius reassured.

"No no this is wrong," Regulus whispers.

Sirius understands immediately and Regulus knows because he sees his expression change from one of relief to one of fear. Regulus knows because he feels Sirius' hand pull away. "Reggie," Sirius starts.

"Don't ask me that Sirius," Regulus replies softly, voice still hoarse.

"I need you to promise me you won't do that again," Sirius says anyway. If Regulus couldn't see how much distress he had caused his brother he would've been angry. But Sirius always wore all his emotions on his sleeve and Regulus can see the heartbreak written in his eyes.

Regulus chooses to be honest with Sirius partially because Sirius deserves it and partially because Regulus knows part of what got him here was living for and pleasing others. But he knows his response is a let down: "I can promise you that I'll try..."

It's when James shows up that he really falters. He can feel his heart stop. Oh James he thinks. Regulus knows there are words traded between him and Remus and Sirius but he won't remember them because James is looking at him.

When James walks over and trades places with his brother, he quickly takes his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers to James and that's what breaks James. He falls into the chair beside the bed, crying into Regulus' lap, clinging to his hand as Regulus uses his free one to brush fingers through his hair. Seeing James now, Regulus can't believe he ever forgot how much he was loved, how much he meant to others.

He chooses in that moment, like he did with Sirius to be honest with James. "Regulus," James starts once he settles.

"I promise you that I will try, James. That's the best I can do." Regulus says and James nods with acceptance.

"Please just, promise me one thing," James says tentatively.

Regulus looks at him, waiting for the ask before he agrees.

"Promise me you'll tell me, promise me okay that you know I'm here and I want to help you try." James' tears fall again slowly as he hopes and wishes.

After a moment, after a breath and some contemplation, Regulus nods his head. "Okay," he says softly and James heaves a breath of relief but cries harder anyway.

"We will have to talk more about what that looks like but yes, I will try and I will tell you," Regulus says in James' hair.

Regulus whispers over and over again, "I will try," like a new mantra or a prayer or a lie he is trying to make himself believe, until he falls back asleep with James now draped over his lap.

[copperbadge]

hey sam! i was just ruminating that it's a fantastic time for authors to do dvd commentaries, and other 'ask the author' memes. it's additional material and feedback all in one package! (after we explain what a dvd extra is)

I suppose I'm of two minds about it. My immediate thought was that authors have always done Q&As, but it's true that they used to be less accessible both to readers and to the authors if they weren't big names, because they required travel (and in the reader's case, knowing the author would be traveling, plus having to go out to wherever they were doing the reading). Authors still do book tours and signings for that kind of purpose, but being able to do that kind of thing online as well now makes it easier and cheaper. Although I wonder whether there's less sense of connection because it's not face-to-face. But yeah, I would imagine it's pretty great for gauging what the overall readership is interested in. Certainly in dialogue with readers when I put my books up for review, I always learn a lot.

The idea of a DVD commentary is kind of interesting because I was like "How would that work with a book, though?" and I guess you could annotate an ebook -- like, offer a version with little widgets where if you clicked them you'd get the author adding notes about the book. I've never been a fan of actual DVD commentaries -- I don't like filmed interviews because they take so fucking long to actually say anything, and with a DVD commentary you've now got the addition of "talking over the story". But I could see how if you loved a book you might like having a version where you've got extra notes.

I struggle with the idea of "additional material" somewhat. I suppose that's ironic given how much I discuss outside-of-book on this blog, but that's just....I don't know, it's answering questions, it's not like "building the canon outside of the canon", and if I think something is good enough, it always goes into the books. The whole "They speak English with a Welsh accent" thing was amusing, but then I was like "Yeah let's actually put that in the text, why should it live on Tumblr alone?"

There's so much media now where it feels like if you aren't spending every waking moment interacting with every aspect of it, you just don't get to...be a fan, in an active sense. There are podcasts I follow where if you want to do anything other than listen to the episodes, even if you just want to attend a live show or buy merchandise, you have to dedicate significant time weekly to following them on all the social media and actively read their Patreon. And I just can't. I really like that creators can put that kind of thing out there, I think overall that's to the good, but it feels like something I'm blocked from participating in.

So, I keep all my shit here. I've had it suggested that I'd benefit as a writer from having a newsletter, which I actually agree with, and it seems like it could be entertaining to do. But I get caught up in this dichotomy of "Well, won't people be mad that they have to go subscribe to this thing instead of just reading my tumblr?" and/or "Won't subscribers be aware they can just find all this on my tumblr?" and I get real in my head about it. Because I'd struggle with having to go two separate places for stuff like that.

Uh, to circle back to your actual ask, however, because all that was just like...IDK, weird anxiety digression, I do think it's a great era for extra-canonical material, and while it does mean creators have to be much better at boundary-setting than they used to be, I like that they can adjust their level of interaction as they see fit.

Oh and uh. It's felt awkward to actually talk about it, but if you guys do want more material I do have a sideblog, @shivadh, which is where I stash everything I want to make note of for the books -- research, imagery, stuff I've talked about here that hasn't got a place to go in googledocs yet, that kind of thing. It's not extra material per se, it's just me shoving shit into a filing cabinet, and I don't do image IDs like I do here because it's more for me, plus I do delete posts once I've made use of them. But folks are welcome to follow if they want to.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #60

I rested for most of the day today. And mostly for real this time! It was beautiful!

After waking up this morning, I tried to play Pokémon. Unfortunately, I have executive dysfunction (this is part of being AuDHD), which means that sometimes I have a lot of trouble starting tasks even when they're fun ones. It's super annoying like that. So instead of waking up and immediately going to play Pokémon like a sane person, instead I floundered around for an hour or two, doomscrolling (or hopequesting? I've heard it referred to like that) uselessly.

…Truth be told, I keep looking for any news about you. I keep looking for any indication that you'll be safe. I'm worried about you almost all the time, and the fact that there's nothing I can do to help you besides write these silly letters is more painful than I know how to describe.

Oh well. Today I supposed that if I wanna rest properly, I've gotta let my brain flounder around from time to time without putting pressure on it to do something else. And that's kinda hard to do. It feels like I'm wasting time when I get stuck in that kind of mental paralysis. But if I beat myself up over it, that's just gonna make it worse. So I tried to go with the flow without worrying too terribly much about what the "correct" way to spend my time looks like.

I can't help but wonder if you ever struggle with any of what I've described. Hm.

In the end, I was able to play Pokémon for a little bit. And then M woke up and wanted to play Core Keeper together with me, and that was lovely. I built a huge, sprawling garden that waters itself and grows lots of tasty food! It's almost like Terraria, except it's from a top-down perspective instead of a side-scrolling perspective. It's still in early access, but it's still a lot of fun for a game that isn't finished cooking yet! I'm eager to see how this one develops!

Sometime after that, I had company over. The same friend who made me aware that the pumpkin soup needed more umami came over with her lovely son. They've been having a hard time lately, and it came to a head recently with something very serious. So they came to my house for support, advice, and refuge from the stress for a little while. We made sure to feed them good food and provide a space in which they don't have to feel pressured to exist in a particular way. My friend's son showed me his wonderful sketchbook and all of the awesome pictures he took on his phone; it was beautiful! As I'm writing this, my friend's son is at ease playing some video game on our TV, and my friend is out on a walk with J; I hope they're having a wonderful time!

My friend is having a bit of a hard time trying not to beat herself up over the way things turned out, as well as for the fact that neither she nor her situation are perfect. So I decided to give her the bowl I repaired, after explaining to her the context of what it means. I'm hoping that she'll put it in a spot in her house where she can see it regularly, so that she can be reminded that we are at our most beautiful when we do the work to turn our imperfections into strengths, and that beating ourselves up is counterproductive. The bowl will do the most good where it can remind someone of their humanity. I hope she will eat lots of wonderful and tasty soup from this bowl, and from it, remember to be gentle with herself.

I like that my house is a place where the people in my social circle feel is safe to go when they're having trouble. My life before was very weird, turbulent, and unsafe, but… now I have a house that is wholesome and safe. I know that I still have a very long way to go before I'm as "healed" as I'd like to be, but… I like to think it means I'm doing some things right at least some of the time. I feel very privileged to be in a position where I am trusted this much by the people who know me well.

I wish you could visit over here, too. Impossible, I know. But… you would be safe here. You wouldn't have to pretend to be someone you're not while you're in my house. You would not be pressured to interact with anyone if you didn't want to. No one would ogle you. No one would be demanding pictures or autographs. There would be only wholesome food, good tea, comfy places to sleep, and lots of fun and awesome things to do. You can just be you. Because my house is a safe place of rest for those who need it.

Hey, Sephiroth? Please keep yourself safe out there at the Edge of Creation, okay? Make good choices, and take good care of yourself. It might be impossible for you to ever visit my house, but you can build your own house with your own two hands, and you can build it up into something that is wholesome and safe, no matter how weird things have been for you in the past or even in the present, especially if you ask for help from kind, loving, and healthy people to make it happen.

Remember that you are loved. I'll write to you again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Weird dream story:

In this dream my partner and I were I think house-sitting for someone, but in general not currently staying at our house. So I was coming home to check up on things there. And I was in the backyard puttering around when suddenly Eliot wanders by -- Eliot my fully non-fictional cat, not a human person name of Eliot. This is surprising and bad, because he shouldn't be outside at all, but I manage to scoop him up and bring him in the house. Has he been wandering out here for a day or two, since last time I was home? Did I let him out accidentally then?

A few minutes later, he's outside again, and I realize he has some means of escape. I go inside to look around -- inside my house looks totally different from waking life, but that doesn't seem strange to dream-me. I finally find a small window, about head-height in a corner of the living room, that only has a screen, which Eliot has managed to shove out of the frame, and now he can get out. We'll have to replace the window, but that'll take time and it needs to be blocked off somehow right away. The house is sort of oddly empty, but I do find some cardboard, and I text my friend Lacey (who is the handiest person I know in real life, so that was a logical choice) and ask if they can bring me a roll of duct tape.

Now things start getting kind of dream-weird. Lacey comes over and agrees with me about the problem, but somehow we don't fix it. It's starting to rain, and I'm constantly shooing Eliot away from the window; it's not clear if he can get back in by himself, so I basically can't leave until I know the window is fixed. Chalk comes home from work and now we're having people over for dinner, but I'm not focused on the conversation or enjoying anything because all I'm aware of is the rain and this high, broken window.

When the guests leave, Chalk and I are cleaning up and discussing the Window Situation, when we notice Margo (other cat) acting weird, carrying something like she's trying to hide it. We chase her down, and it's a fucking kitten, all wet and scraggly. We check it for injuries and it seems okay. Chalk says, well, I guess we have three cats now, and I say uhhh, he is extremely cute, but are you sure that's a good idea? She says, look, Margo has really taken Kyle in and we shouldn't separate them now, and I'm like, Kyle? We've known this dude for five minutes and you've already named him...Kyle? And she's like, yeah, from South Park -- South Park, a television show that I have not really watched in about 20 years, and that as far as I know Chalk has never watched one time, ever. Even in dreamworld, this strikes me as incredibly weird, and I'm unsettled by the storm and the strangeness of all this, but I feel like I can't say no to this poor kitten that my wife has suddenly adopted (excuse me, to Kyle).

We're doing all this kitten-examining on the kitchen table, and after some commotion in the living room, we go in and find Kyle's wet mom lying on the floor, presumably having barely gotten both of them in through the window. Chalk is immediately like, we should take them both to the vet and starts pulling out a kitty carrier so we can do that, and I'm not sure we're ready to be a four-cat household, but this does seem to be happening, so instead I say, wait, we shouldn't leave until the window is fixed, everyone's getting in and out of the house and that's not good. If we leave it like this, who knows what we'll come back to? I find this thought highly stressful, but Chalk seems to be concerned only about the Kyle and Mother of Kyle situation, so we leave the house with the window broken (somehow between us and Lacey, nobody ever figured out how to block it off, we just gave up on that) and head to the after-hours emergency vet. I think there was a brief bit when we were actually at the animal hospital, but that was pretty much the end of the dream.

I don't know if that's interesting to anyone else, but it was all so vivid and mostly linear, which is unusual -- if I remember dreams at all, it's usually kind of a jumble of images and emotions. Thank you for being my dream journal, happy Ides of March.

[allegra-j-joann]

The morning light trickled through the tree tops, deep, cold shadows making the mist seem a little more sinister, and had he not known about it already, it would have been far too easy to miss the cottage swallowed by it's garden, with patrols and the outpost so near he doubted the group would still be there, but they hadn’t actually approached the house in far longer than they should have, so it fell to him.

The cottage hadn’t changed much under the greenery, not on the outside at least, he smoothed back his dark hair as he tromped across the dewey grass, swatting aside the humming roses that draped cross the door, despite the state of the rest of the house, he could immediately tell the doorstep and handle were comparatively clean, someone had been here after all. For a moment he wanted to knock on the door and wait, but he wasn’t that little boy anymore, no one was supposed to be here.

He pushed the door open, wincing as it squeaked quietly, the house was in chaos, everything he’d known here was thrown around, and he could see that someone had been sleeping in the living room, right on the couch where they all used to collapse together after a day of running around. A tentative step towards the makeshift bed and then he paused, listening, there were quiet noises behind the door to his left, the kitchen. Elinor was hunched by the door, peeking between the illfitting door and it's frame, she could just barely see the man who had entered, all she'd wanted was a cup of tea to wake her up, and now a man who looked like a soldier was barging in and she was clutching a badly tarnished butter knife like her life depended on it. When the Rabbit's group had said they were at war, she didn't think it would literally happen in the front hallways.

The next few moments blurred together as they each grabbed the handle of the kitchen door, wrenching it back on its frame, she drove the knife at him hoping to plant it into his stomach or leg, to make him unable to attack, but she had never used a weapon before and he had, and he very quickly had her wrists pinned at her sides, spinning her into the hallway and throwing her against the wall, the butter knife clattering to the ground between them. He held her already bruising wrists tightly, looking for any more weapons she might be carrying, instead he found a bedraggled blonde teen wearing only a slightly too long shirt and some light shorts that didn't at all seem decent to be worn in the company of others, though when his gaze moved up to meet her own, her startled glare from under the bedhair tangled in front of her face reminded him that she /hadn't/ been in any kind of company until a few seconds ago. He quickly let go and stepped back, muttering an apology, to which she only responded "Get out." He nodded and obeying, sulking through the door and out into the garden before pausing to think about it, but thinking better of trying to further question her, she seemed to have just stayed the night, based on the state of the living room, so he doubted she'd know where the previous occupants had gone.

In the adjacent room from where Elinor was picking up the butter knife and shambling back into the kitchen, right by the door but aware of the quiet confrontation that had just taken place, Theodore was standing at the wall, looking at a clothesline array of photos taken with an old camera. It was of simpler times, tea parties and crashing the Caterpillar's afternoon smoke and visiting the White Queen. Hatter going nuts over noon tea and Auryn floating about. Adventures to see the village or the towering flowers. Alice was in every photo, or could be suspected to be taking the photo, unless someone else had figured it out somehow. Theodore just stood there, his ears limp on either side of his head, his body very still.

Imogen lay on the couch near him, legs kicked over Alec's, watching the rabbit "I'm worried about his head. Last time I was here, at least he wasn't dissociating." She looked at Alec, who just shrugged, having Alice's around had him in a better state than he'd been, Imogen sighed and nudged the mousey girl "What is that spade on your collar for? I was curious yesterday"

Alec smiled, turning her collar down properly to reveal each suit embroidered on it in near invisible color matched thread, Auryn showed off similar embroidery in the lining of his jacket as he drifted in to join them "we swear allegiance to no queen, the Alices are our leaders, the Spade was a theory, I reckon Elinor would be a Spade if she was going to stay an Alice"

Imogen's eyes widened. "Wow. You guys are really something. You figured her out that fast?" She smiled. "Are you on board for taking over Alfea like this? There will be no queens, but at the end of this, leaders will be needed. And we Alices might not be able to stay." She looked between the two of them. They'd dismissed the possibility the last time she was here "I want Alfea to be better than I left it if ever I can't stay. I never want to leave, but... No matter what happens, I want this place to return to how it was in the stories you used to tell, that Theodore described. A free Alfea full of magic and joy and games. What is it that you want in this fight?"

"there will always be queens, that's the way this place works, but the current queen's forgot to keep their rooks and bishops, or even kings, we don't need to flip the board, just reset it"

Imogen rubbed her chin. "But where are they? They can't have just holed up in their territories..." She sighed. "The Queen of Hearts is the only one on the board with her pieces in place. We'll be using this opportunity to create what I guess we can call artificial pieces." She sighed. "Maybe the presence of the Alices threw off the balance. This didn't seem like such a power struggle leaning to one side until Alice disappeared... Maybe her coming and going rocked Alfea. So maybe Alices can knock it back. I hope so..."

"Anyways," Imogen stood. "We should go to the village soon. Depending on its condition, it may help our cause here. Or it may hurt it" she considered for a long moment "so, aside from you three, who do we still have? The twins? March? Hattie? Eudora?"

"The twins have been gone for years, Eudora went down in the initial attack, no one has heard from Hattie in years. March went looking for her, we lost him too" Alec sighed, listing them off on her fingers

"Even March?" She frowned, thinking back to watching the fighter train in the garden. She briefly knew the twins, and Hattie would have found a way back somehow. There was someone else from before she had come to Alfea too, Or maybe a distant memory, someone she hadn't known well. "If they're alive, we'll... we'll get them back. I promise." She sighed. "I'm sorry you guys have just been sitting on this for years. I should have been there." Alec just reached over to pat her leg quietly, there wasn’t anything they could do about it now.

[grantspectortrash]

Secret Santa With Steven

pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

summary: you and Steven are colleagues. You exchange Secret Santa gifts.

word count: 1.6K

IMPORTANT A/N: I am very aware Moon Knight/Steven are Jewish, and therefore do not celebrate Christmas, which is why this fic does not include him actually celebrating the holiday, but just participating in a Secret Santa.

I hope this doesn't come across as disrespectful, I just know how hard Christmas can be for some people and I hope that a fic including Steven, a comfort character, may help. If it is offensive in any way I will remove the fic immediately.

-

It was the last day of work before Christmas and you were ecstatic.

Last night it had begun to snow outside and by the morning the roads and streets were covered in the stuff. The view from your window looked like a winter wonderland.

And even though you left the house that morning with multiple layers on, and a chill in your fingertips, you still went to work with a smile. After all, it was the big day.

The day you and your colleagues exchanged Secret Santa gifts.

You hadn't been working at the museum long, maybe six months in fact, but your colleagues quickly became like a second family. Well, most of them anyway. Your boss Donna wasn't the friendliest of people, but your colleagues joint fear towards her was something that brought you together.

Now, it was the end of the day - the museum was closed to tourists, the lights were off and the security team had headed home for the holidays.

"Are we all here?" Donna sighed, glancing at her wrist-watch.

Even people who hadn't been on shift that day had arrived for the occasion, and while you all sat in the staff canteen you did a quick headcount.

The staff canteen had two rows of individual tables, each with two chairs sat opposite one another. You were sat alone.

There was Jim and Theresa, the gang who worked in the gift shop. The other tour guides, people who manned different exhibitions and rooms. And there was one person missing.

"Actually, Steven's not here yet." You piped up, answering Donna's question.

"Steven?" Donna rolled her eyes, "Of course it's him that's late. He's got another ten minutes or I'm starting without him."

You thought Donna's words were a bit harsh, after all she was the one who forced him into joining in on the Secret Santa festivities. The poor guy didn't even celebrate Christmas. You felt bad for him, and you absentmindedly starting playing with the ribbon you had tied around your present.

We can't start without him though, you thought, I'm his secret Santa.

And you had been excited about it too.

You had been one of the first people to pull a name from the box, hoping you didn't accidentally pick out your own, and you hadn't. Instead, you had picked Steven's.

"Who did you get?" He had asked during your shared lunch break after you'd picked his name.

Between bites of food you had said, "If I tell you, it wouldn't be much of a secret, would it?"

You had laughed at him, not in a mean way of course. It was just because Steven always made you laugh, without him even trying to.

He gave a small smile, "Oh right, yeah. Forgot that."

And then you had felt bad - because that's when you remembered.

"I guess you don't usually celebrate this stuff, right?" You asked and he had nodded.

"Well not really. But Donna she's persistent, kind of scary, actually. I couldn't say no." You knew how that felt; Donna was one boss you didn't want to mess with.

"And," he continued, "once I saw who I got, I thought getting them a gift wouldn't be too bad." He smiled at you and you thought about how kind and caring he was. "That's nice of you, Steven." You had said, "But don't tell me anymore. It's a secret Santa, remember?"

After that conversation you had spent every waking minute trying to find the right present - you knew he was a massive Egyptian mythology nerd, knew he had a goldfish. You even knew that he was vegan, and his favourite chocolates cane from a store down the road.

But, you hadn't wanted to get him something generic or boring. When you had told a friend about it they had suggested buying Steven a copy of 'Night at the Museum'. You had told your friend that was an insult to to Steven's intelligence.

So, you went above and beyond.

You went to the library and scoured through their mythology section. There you found a book Steven often referred to. In the front page you could see how often he checked the book out - at least once a month.

"Where can I buy this book?" You had asked, slamming the heavy, well-read book onto the librarian's desk.

She had given you all the information she could, and then you were on the hunt. It took two weeks of communicating with a rare-book seller to finally get hold of the thing, and then another week for it to arrive in the post.

It had arrived yesterday and you had spent the evening wrapping it to perfection.

The canteen door swung open.

"Sorry I'm late," Steven came in wrapped up in his winter coat and scarf, "I'm here now."

There were a few mumbles of appreciation, some of annoyance, from the rest of your colleagues.

You watched how his eyes scanned the room for a spare seat, and how his face lit up when he saw there was one spare opposite yours.

"Do you mind?" He asked, gesturing to the chair.

"Not at all." You smiled at him, moving your hand to cover the present's tag with Steven's name on it.

You noticed how he didn't have a present on hand, and you wondered if Steven - sometimes clumsy and forgetful Steven - hadn't remembered to bring a gift.

"Cold out, innit?" He asked, blowing on his hands for warmth.

"Freezing." You replied. The urge to get your gloves out from your coat pocket and give them to him was almost overpowering. Then, Steven glanced at the gift under your hands and another urge took over, one that wanted to tell Steven that you were his secret Santa and he deserved the world, not just one gift.

"Right." Donna's loud voice cut through your thoughts like a knife. "Everyone eyes closed and presents on the table. I'm gonna switch them all."

You looked at Steven, who was already looking at you. He shrugged, cheeks slightly aflush, and closed his eyes.

You closed yours, still wondering if Steven had brought a gift for someone or not.

Donna went around the room. He heels against the floor were the only sounds you could hear.

"If I see you peaking, " she announced, "I'll deduct a day's wages and put you on inventory for a week." Even at Christmas, Donna was mean. She was a Scrooge, all year round.

You heard her approach your table, felt her pick up your present. She moved towards Steven, "Interesting choice, Stevie."

You were dying to know what her comment meant but you didn't dare open your eyes. Instead you kept them shut tight. There were a few minutes more of hustling and bustling then Donna's voice: "Open your eyes and presents. Go on. Merry Christmas or whatever."

Wasting no time, with the anticipation practically killing you, you opened your eyes.

Infront of you was a small, red envelope with your name written neatly on the front. You looked around the room briefly, watching everyone tear into wrapping paper like they'd never received a Christmas present in their life.

Even Steven was beginning to peel away the sticky tape from one of the edges. His cheeks were a glorious shade of pink.

You went for it.

Inside the envelope was a small card. It was a luxurious business card of an expensive restaurant nearby, with a time and date printed in a fancy font. The bottom of the card read 'table for two'.

You were astonished. It was a gorgeous restaurant, one where reservations were hard to come by because it was so popular.

Once again you scanned the room, hoping for any sign of your secret Santa so you could thank them.

You didn't have a partner or any family close by to join you for this table for two, but you were sure it would be easy enough for you to change the booking. It wasn't like your secret Santa could've known these things.

"I hope it's okay." Steven said suddenly. He hadn't opened his present yet, he had only unpeeled a corner.

"Sorry?" You asked.

"I uh, hope it's not too presumptuous of me." He spoke fast, "The reservation."

There was a beat of silence, then he continued, "I can cancel it if you want."

Your face felt warm, "This was you? Thank you, Steven, honestly!"

"It's for the both of us." He wouldn't look at you, "Only if that's what you want."

Finally the realisation of all his rambling hit you, and your heart involuntarily did a funny dance, one that you were used to when you were around Steven. "Oh my gosh, yes. That would be brilliant, Steven. Sounds like a date."

He looked at you then, all brown, adoring eyes. He smiled, wide.

"You haven't even opened yours yet." You prompted, trying to take the attention away from yourself.

You hoped you weren't blushing as much as you thought you were.

"Oh yeah...is this from you?" He asked, gently stroking the wrapping paper.

"Yeah it is. I know you don't celebrate it and all that, but Merry Christmas, Steven. This is my gift to you." His eyes lit up at that, as if those six words were the greatest gift of all.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Steven ripped the wrapping paper then, revealing the present you had spent so long trying to acquire.

"Oh my- this is amazing!" His voice was full of joy, "I can't believe you got this for me!"

Without even flicking through the book Steven stood up and moved towards you. You instinctively stood up and Steven embraced you in a hug. He was warm like jasmin and vanilla.

From somewhere in the room you heard a "finally".

You pulled away from Steven to find the room staring at you, all of them grinning like Cheshire cats.

Donna rolled her eyes, but there was a small smirk on her lips, "About time."

-

taglist: @later-gators12 @alicetweven @toracainz @bristark616 @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393 @elles-mind-palace @christineblood @fandxmslxt69 @foreverinwanderlust @sir-knight-slytherdor @ahookedheroespureheart

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

I really have a strange mind when it comes to ideas: What if Yuu was the distant relative to one of the legacy protagonists from the 'Scream' movies? Like they were the distant cousin to Sidney Prescott that comes to Woodsburo to help her end the Ghostface attacks, only for them to be nearly killed by Ghostface himself until they hide in a coffin that ends up sending them to Night Raven College? They would follow the typical rules of surviving a horror movie, believing that the next Ghostface is among the students and staff of NRC.

Well, this took a long while. Hehe, anyway I mostly haven’t seen the Scream movies (aside from the one who had Billy and Stu in it but that was years ago and I don’t really remember the events happening there) so I just took creative liberties on this one and made Yuu a self-aware horror slasher character instead? I think I did... Anyway, I hope that's alright, ahahaha!

Note that slasher is a genre of horror where the killer stalks and murders a group of people with bladed tools. Meaning that the villains are humans so Yuu’s experiences only deal with those and not of the supernatural horror kind.

===

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Slasher Genre Aware!Yuu brainrot!

So, born from the slasher genre and raised in the scenes of violence without a break, a paranoid Yuu was transported to another world.

They wake up and find themselves trapped inside a small space and panic but they try to calm themselves down, knowing panicking won’t do anything in a situation like this.

They would know, they’ve been in the same situation before after all. Multiple times.

They do what they do best and get information from what limited senses they have, straining their ears to hear someone mumbling outside from where they were and proceed to play unconscious when they notice whoever it was trying to open the lid.

They turned out to be inside a coffin. Great. At least they weren’t dead. That’s something.

Grim successfully opens the coffin and rejoices when he saw that there was a robe he could take and the person who was wearing it was still ‘unconscious’.

Too caught up in his celebration, Yuu takes this chance to swiftly step out of the coffin and pushes Grim inside, closing the lid on him before booking it.

Of course with a quick mind that came with years of being always on the line of life and death where their every quick decision could decide if they get to survive or not, Yuu immediately notices that their ‘could-be-killer’ was a talking, flaming cat/raccoon.

Of course they also notice they’re in an entirely different place.

“Fuck! Figures after all these years with murderers and killers trying to kill me, humans aren’t just enough now. Life just has to throw a talking cat at me.”

But they’ve always been great at improvising and adapting in whatever situation they’re in so they just have to survive this one, right? Right…?

Yuu immediately arm themselves with whatever makeshift weapon they could find and cautiously continues on their way in the unknown territory.

Of course, when Crowley arrives from out of nowhere with a bound Grim in tow, Yuu had already felt their presence and was already attacking Crowley with vicious accuracy.

But even if Crowley is bad at being responsible as a headmaster, we can’t deny that he’s also skilled so while Yuu did surprise him at first, he regains his bearings immediately and deflects the attacks.

“My word! Are you trying to kill me?!”

“Tsk, better you than me.”

"What?"

Crowley has suspicions of Yuu at first but since time was ticking and he couldn’t deal with a student who he believes was a troublemaker who likes to fight others for no reason at all, he just binds Yuu with his whip like what he’d done to Grim and dragged them both to the Mirror Chamber.

Yuu knows a lost battle when they see one so they let themselves be dragged around but they haven’t given up. Oh no, they never do.

And it seemed that Crowley wasn’t trying to kill them and seemed to have assumed that they were a student of the school so they could safely assume that they were momentarily safe.

Instead, with the time they have, they do whatever they can to memorize the layout of where they’re going while also subtly testing how strong the whips were.

When they arrive at the ceremony hall where they see a lot of people wearing a robe, they initially thought they were in a cult and they could practically feel their stomach drop. They aren’t sure how well they can hold a slasher cult off.

What now? Where they going to be tortured? Gutted? Was there some kind of ritual that could delay their death and give them enough time to think of something?

So they were quite surprised when they were placed in front of a mirror that had a face in it, safe and unharmed.

So anyway, fast forward and the ceremony proceeds as normal.

By now, Yuu has already noticed that there’s something weird happening and somehow they’ve deducted that they’ve either been kidnapped by a cult who were avid fantasy fans and were very dedicated to very realistic-looking special effects or that they were somehow transported into another world.

They keep quiet all throughout the ceremony, though. They wouldn’t want to arouse any potential killers hidden among the crowd by doing something impulsive. As the saying goes, don’t startle the snake by beating the grass.

The less anyone knows anything about them, the better their chance for survival.

So, after being interrogated by Crowley about where they come from and receiving minimal answers, they were allowed to stay in Ramshackle which, when Yuu first saw it, almost made them foam from the mouth and gave them a heart attack.

Ramshackle Dorm was literally the perfect place to get killed. It had the vibes, the looks, and the spooks to it but what choice does Yuu have?

At least they were used to having homecourt advantage with being experienced in a possibly deadly house rather than living in the forest where new and even deadlier things could kill them.

They acquire the conveniently placed shovel just leaning against the fence outside of soon-to-be dorm.

“Why are bringing that shovel?”

“Protection, what else?”

“Whatever you may have had in your previous world, I assure you doesn’t exist here. You’re safe here.”

“Well, that’s what they always say and look where they ended up. Six-feet underground…”

Crowley: *visible concern*

So anyway, Yuu says violence is the answer to everything when confronted with what they believe to be a deadly situation even when it isn’t.

That shovel they got outside of Ramshackle? On their person at all times now. They can’t be separated from it no matter what anyone tries to do. They even bring it with them when they sleep.

They hold no mercy for anyone who tries to rapidly get into their personal space. Lilia gets bonked on the head multiple times but he doesn't acknowledge it or change his smiling expression.

Yuu trust Grim a little bit. Grim managed to hesitantly convince them that with his fire, anyone who tried to hurt them would be kebab and that if they were planning on kill them, they should've done so already.

While Yuu was wary of Grim, Deuce, and Ace and their intentions at first, they soon categorize them to be a ‘would-be-victim’ after the mine incident and had an 'oh god, if killers were after them they would be dead already' epiphany.

This means that Yuu becomes protective of them and try to help hone their danger sense because it’s obvious these three won’t last against a determined murderer.

“So Deuce, Ace, Grim, what would you do if there was someone who broke into your house in the middle of the night?”

“Uh… Ask what they’re doing in my house…?”

“Easy, hide in my room.”

“Hah! The Great Grim will burn them!”

“Deuce, you’re going to be the first one to die. Ace, good idea but it could be even better. You should immediately find a way outside and gain as much distance you can from the intruder while also contacting authority who actually gives a damn for once. Grim, that only applies if you have something to burn them with but since you’re basically a breathing, walking, talking flamethrower, I’ll accept that answer. Don’t be dependent on your flames, though. Okay, next. What do you do when you hear a sound in your kitchen but you live alone?”

Yuu always tries to vibe check them out of nowhere so you have to understand how these three gained fast reflexes.

Yuu also decorated their room like a detective on a murder case would, with pictures of the people living in school as well as staff put up on the wall with connecting strings and pins.

“Human, what are you doing?”

“Trying to find out who’s the most likely killer in school. I’m betting it’s this one. Look at that suspicious face.”

“… That’s Kalim… Also, there’s no killer here. It’s just a normal school.”

“Yeah and it’s always the unassuming ones. Never ever assume the killer’s nowhere near you. They’re always there…”

Yeah, Yuu’s very wary of the sunshine boy.

Yuu’s actually proud of Epel when he joins their braincell group because he always answers the best in hypothetical situations and is the most trigger happy.

“What do you do if you see the killer fall on the ground, dead?”

“They're not dead yet until I say they are. I break their kneecaps and take away all their weapons for myself and then use those weapons on them.”

So, the overblots…

Since Yuu already used to being constantly chased by slasher villains, they’ve learned to be pretty athletic, resourceful, and quick on their feet.

While they may be paranoid of being attacked and would rather permanentlyget rid of any threats towards them, Yuu can’t bring themselves to hurt the overblot boys... Too much, that is.

There’s just that very huge difference between a slasher who’s hellbent and stalking and killing you and someone who was having a mental breakdown and decided to take it out on you for reasons.

They go for quick hits where they know could instantly incapacitate them.

For the most part, Yuu doesn’t really suspect the overblot boys because in their words, “Killers aren’t usually very open of their intentions.”

Also Yuu after the first overblot,,,

“I have a feeling this isn’t a one-time thing…”

A few events later...

Someone else: *overblots*

Yuu: *already behind the person who overblotted with a shovel in hand*

Yuu doesn’t say it but they have contingency plan for everybody in the school, even for their close friends just in case it turns out they want to kill them.

It’s sad but that’s the life they’ve lived and ever known. Perhaps the others can help them open up their feelings in the future...

Also, Yuu’s shocked that (most of) the adults are actually responsible for the well-being of the students.

They’ve met a lot of incompetent adults who won’t believe them whenever they try to ask for help and those that do usually end up dead so it’s a big surprise to see ones who were competent AND still alive.

They’ve also killer-proofed Ramshackle. Every room has a thing that can be used as a weapon, whether it’s a stick, a pen, a crowbar, or a simple towel.

The windows are all boarded up and if ever someone tries to go through it, they’d have to check where they’re stepping cause there are sharp things just waiting to be stepped on.

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Something of Yours

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

He opened your room and found nothing of yours

tw// mentions self-harm scars, mentions of character death, hurt/comfort

"For me?"

Cale nodded, giving you a nonchalant stare as he dropped the gloves he had seen you eyed for quite some time when a designer had come over with their collection to the duchy, preparing clothes for you and Cale. 

"Thank you." The bright smile you gave him makes him shift as he stands, an unknown feeling stirring in his stomach and his chest feeling overwhelmingly warm - he's pretty sure he isn't supposed to feel that when he's not even using Record.

You immediately tried the gloves on. It was a pair of semi-sheer black opera gloves that you always wanted since they looked so simple and elegant in the movies. A lot of women wore these types of gloves in this universe as it goes with their aesthetics and you wanted to try wearing them instead of long-sleeved tops daily. You noticed how Cale's eyes stayed on you as you slip on the gloves, swiftly covering the bumpy lines on your arms.

"Oh, it fits like a-" You paused talking, giggling a bit when you turn to look at him, "-like a glove."

"Yes," Cale replied nonchalantly. "Do you like it?"

"Of course!" You say with a lilt in your voice. "I've been wanting them for awhile."

You placed your gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Thanks, Cale, I really appreciate it."

Cale placed his hand on top of yours and slightly regret the choice to buy you those gloves because now instead of the warmth of your hand, he could only feel the soft material that covers it. He stared at you, thumb brushing the soft material of the gloves and thinking how he would lay awake at night and thought again and again about how you could disappear at any time.

"By the way-" You pulled your hand back and Cale immediately thought about how he wished you could've put your hand longer. "You've been spoiling me endlessly ever since that top whip test."

As always, you were observant of him. Sometimes it's scary but other times, Cale would find it ridiculously absurd that you were that sharp of his change of attitudes. How is it that sometimes you know him better than himself?

"Have I?" He questioned with a hum, nonchalant and flat. You raised an eyebrow, knowing that Cale himself is aware of his actions. 

'How odd,' you thought to yourself. Usually, Cale would be generous and wouldn't even be aware of how much money he's spending if it's on others - his generosity on material things usually goes unnoticed by himself. 'He's consciously picking things for me to have.'

"Is there some kind of special occasion?" You asked, curious. "Or did something happen?"

You noticed how his expression shifted when you ask whether or not something had happened and knew you had hit the mark. You know Cale is the type to be silent about his own sufferings so instead of asking him what was wrong, you held onto his hand. "I'm here if you need anything."

"Nothing is wrong."

He shut you down that day and for the next few days after that, he did not gift you anything and for a moment, you were relieved because perhaps that strange behavior was a one-time thing. You were proven wrong when you received a leather coat from Hans, who claimed Cale and the kids were the ones who picked it out for you. You let those purchases pass since you had thought maybe he had bought them because the kids had mentioned you.

Then you received books regarding things you had been pondering out loud whenever Hans or Ron is around. You had the suspicions that they were reporting about you to Cale. Instead of feeling happy and grateful, you were dumbfounded by these strange acts of kindness Cale was doing. It's not that he wasn't kind, but it's just odd how that man was consciously purchasing things for you. 

You confronted him during noon, knowing he would just be waking up while everyone would be busy ding their own things. You walked into his room, holding the latest item you believed he had paid for you to have, which was an empty diary. You can see his brows furrowing as he listens to your heels clicking on the tile of his bedroom, purposefully making it as loud as possible as you approach his bed. You see him crack one eye open to look at you and you raised the latest purchase he had for you, showing it to the man.

"Cale," you called for him. "What is this?"

Cale looks at the book and closed his eyes again. "Looks like a book to me."

You let out a sigh and sat on the bed, rubbing your face but making sure not to ruin your makeup. You placed the diary beside where you assume his thighs are and stared at the walls, knowing Cale would not go back to sleep if you were bothering him like this.

"I don't understand you," you began, your voice did not sound frustrated. Instead, you seemed to be amused. "What's with all the sudden splurge on me?"

"You know I don't like people spending money on me," you said, tugging at your fingers. "It makes me feel like you're gonna ask me to return them all one day once you no longer want to be friends with me."

"I'm not cruel like that," Cale immediately replied, eyes still closed. You let out a laugh, low and lacking any mirth. "Anyways, this feels like my exes' love-bombing. Stop doing it."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you where the only sounds you can hear are your breaths. You stared at the walls, thinking back to the times when every act of kindness you received had been used against you, the shame always gripping and squeezing you by the chest to the point you'd have difficulty breathing. You doubted Cale would be like that, but the thought of it happening made you uncomfortable. To imagine him saying how shameless you are after all the things he had done to you made you tremble a bit.

A slight push from your hip snapped you from your imagination. You turned and saw that Cale had nudged you with his knee, noticing that your mind had been somewhere else. He looks at you and says, "Don't do that."

"Sorry," you mumbled, shaking off the thoughts from your head and giving Cale a tired smile. "As I was saying, stop doing whatever it is you're doing. I'm grateful, yes, but I can just feel something is wrong, okay? It doesn't feel right."

Cale's eyes stayed on your smile for a moment before he sat up. You watch him reach for the diary you've placed on the bed, skimming through the empty pages, his expression unreadable. "You should start writing... or something."

You raised an eyebrow. "Or something?"

"Or something," Cale confirms, handing you the diary after shutting it close. "Leave your mark - a proof that you had once existed."

You tilt your head, touching the diary while Cale was still holding it. "Are you not enough?"

Cale's heart skipped a beat and he stared at you, confused about what the meaning of your words is and bothered by how his stomach begin to feel odd. "Not enough for what?"

You take the diary, purposefully touching his hand in the process as you explain; "I don't need to leave some kind of proof that I had once existed. It's enough to be remembered by you and the others."

"What if they forgot about you?" Cale asked because he knew you knew he was not capable of forgetting anything. "Or what if they forgot what you look like?"

You smiled. "Then maybe it's time to let me go."

Upon hearing that, the emotion that have been brewing in his chest for the last couple of weeks was on the verge of coming up to his throat. Cale felt like his emotions were clogging up his throat and it was borderline painful as he tries to suppress them all down. He grits his teeth and you can see that he was holding himself back, his neck showing a vein or two.

The thought of letting you go has been something Cale refused to acknowledge for the last couple of months. He still doesn't know how you feel about the idea of returning to your world and frankly, he doesn't want to know.

Still, he doesn't know if not wanting to know is a good thing, because he remembers the ache in his chest and how painful his thighs were after he had hit them so many times to prevent his emotions from going crazy during the top whip test.

He remembered how he had woken up in that illusion, acknowledging that his friends and family have died and he was the remaining one alive. He looked them up in the books, each and every book describing how noble their deaths were because they saved millions of people from war, not considering the loneliness Cale Henituse had to suffer.

In that world, your name was never mentioned and it strikes Cale as odd.

You were a humble person and thought nothing of your existence, but to Cale, you were someone who was able to bend time and space simply by existing and you were a kind and sentimental person that tried your hardest to make sure your existence would not bother the dynamics of the world.

For that reason, Cale had hoped maybe you could have dodged a grim end and helped him.

For some reason, Cale thought even if he had been left alone, you were an existence he's sure would always be beside him.

But no, you never appeared when he waited. There was no portrait of you as a way to honor your sacrifices like the others, no stories about you made into a children's bedtime story. Your name was never mentioned. In fact, no one knew who you were. There was no one who knew you and if someone did, they'd most likely have died anyway.

When he went to the Super Rock Villa to look for answers, he found graves.

He found the graves of his friends and family, all in the form of their belongings, left in their tidy rooms as if they would be home any second and ready to mess up their rooms and go back to training on the lawn. 

Choi Han with his sword, Rosalyn with her magic staff, Ron with his artificial arm -

Everyone had something left behind once they die and Cale thought that it was a blessing and torture for him.

Your room had been the last for Cale to check before he went up to his floor, your room being the closest to the stairs to his floor. He pondered about you endlessly, thinking whether or not where you had gone or if you did not exist in this world lies solely in the room closest to his floor.

He opened your room and found nothing of yours.

There were no signs of the personal touches you've added to your room, the wardrobe was empty with no signs of the clothes you've always worn, no papers or books filled with your handwriting.

He would have preferred if the room was used as storage and filled with useless junk because at least that confirmed that the room was never used and you did not exist in this horrible illusion.

But it didn't. 

This room was prepped exactly for a woman to use, with a large wardrobe, a clean dress for sleeping, combs on the drawers of the vanity, and untouched perfumes that smelled nothing like the ones you always wear.

This room was yours but at the same time, it wasn't.

You need to be here for this room to be yours. You have to be there with him and make this room yours.

You need to fill the vanity with your own handmade makeup concoctions. You need to switch out the perfumes you always say smell funky and make your own so Cale would always turn to you even before you could call for him because he'll smell the sweet smell of lavender or jasmine on you. There have to be papers scattered on the small table in the bedroom because you're always trying your best to remember the story so you write them down, scrambling to burn them whenever Cale or anyone else appears.

You had disappeared in that world and with your humble heart, you have nothing personal to leave him to remember you by.

"Are you okay, Cale?" Your voice and warm hand brought him back to reality, absorbed in Records as he remembers how he had faced the possibility of you disappearing. He looks down, seeing that you have been holding his hand, thumb brushing the back of his hand affectionately. 

"I'm... okay," Cale answered you and when you began to pull your hand, Cale gripped it. "Cale?"

"Have you ever thought to get a portrait done?" 

You blinked, dumbfounded. "What?"

"A portrait," he repeated. "Let's get one."

"Huh-? All of a sudden?"

Cale tilts his head. "Why not, right? We have the money so it won't be much."

You smiled, pulling your hand back and running your hand through his hair. "Hm, a face like this not getting recorded would be a shame."

Your fingers are light and nimble as you work on sorting the red mess that is Cale's hair. Cale was not very open to having people touching him so easily, but you along with the kids have always been the exception. It always feels so natural to have you all so close to him.

"You'd tell me if you want to leave, right?" The question left his mouth before he can even think to sort out the internal conflict that was happening in his head.

"I've always told you what I'm doing, don't I?" You questioned back with a smile, humming as you play with Cale's fringes. 

"No," Cale replied. "I meant if you want to leave us."

You freeze, the smile on your face becoming tight. You glanced at Cale who was looking at you with an unreadable expression. You leaned back, sitting facing the redhead as you gather your thoughts.

"I still don't know whether I want to leave or not," you admitted. This topic was sensitive to you and it was not within your knowledge as well that this topic also makes Cale a bit uncomfortable. 

It wasn't sensitive to Cale when he first met you, but after years of knowing each other, Cale was reluctant on letting you leave.

"Then stay."

You could feel your heart beginning to beat erratically and you hide your face, feeling your face heating up as blood rushes to your cheeks. "I-I'll... reconsider."

Cale knew he was supposed to let you choose your own path. It is your own life and after years of working hard, you deserved to do whatever it is that you want to do. Cale was being selfish, he knew that, but can't he be selfish for another person for once?

"It's a big decision, but I'll probably stay if you're willing to accommodate for my living expenses," you joked light-heartedly, a soft smile on your face as you look at Cale.

Cale activated his ability, recording every second of the moment. He stored the image of you deep into his brain - the curve of your smile, the crease in your eye, the slight tilt of your head, causing some of your fringes to cover your face, and how the sun hits your face almost perfectly that Cale was sure it could have been a movie shot.

But it's not.

You're real, and right here with him.

He returned that smile of yours that he always thought to be vibrant.

"What's mine is yours."

[lexxiie]

I really like ur jjk headcanon abt nightmare! it helps me calm :) so.. can i get a headcanon for geto, gojo, and yuta with s/o with a hot body temperature? Like they are worried they might be sick but it just how they temperature is? My body is always hot and my friends always think that im sick and strange lol

When You Have A High Body Temperature

AAAAA I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! I'm the exact opposite, my limbs are always freezing cold since I have raynaud lmao. I absolutely love this concept!

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Yuta Okkotsu.

SATORU GOJO

Satoru is aware that you are usually warm, however from time to time you get particularly warm and he is not used to that at all.

Maybe it's due to his god complex, maybe not, but he sees you like a little defenseless lamb. It doesn't matter wether you are a sorcerer or not, powerful or not. It's just the way it is. When the smallest inconvinience presents itself, he's immediately sure you could die.

One morning, while he's coming to his senses, the man attempts to kiss your cheek to wake you up, because, if he's up, then you must be as well. Who's gonna talk to him otherwise?

As he leans over to kiss you, he immediately feels your skin boiling, and hurriedly tries to wake you up, earning a blow to his face. "What are you doing?" You ask him in complete disbelief after he woke you up so agressively. "Do you feel... fine?" He asks, visibly confused. "I did, until you woke me up" you replied angrily. He slowly moves his hand closer and closer to your face, like a little child who's afraid to pet an animal, finally resting his hand on your forhead. "You are boiling." He points out, but you don't answer, instead, you just stare at him in clear annoyance. "I'm sorry" your boyfriend says with an awkward smile as he moves his hand from your forhead to your cheek. Oh well... at least he cares.

SUGURU GETO

He's the kind of guy who really tries not to overreact, and also just naturally isn't the type to overreact. He also has a bit of a problem with letting others know that he cares for them, however, he's slightly more sensible when it comes to you.

You both had just finished dinner. Suguru bought your favourite food on his way home and you decided to do the dishes to thank him, even though it was his turn. As you were scrubbing the food off a plate, Suguru approached you from behind and placed his hands around your waist, pulling you into a hug. He momentarily buried his face in your neck, but quickly pulled away, placing one of his palms against your forhead.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked. "Yes, why?" You replied as you turned to look at him, confused. "You are very warm, y/n." He explained with a concerned tone. You had to spend the next couple of minutes explaining that sometimes that's just the way it is with you, till he finally let it go.

Or so he made you believe. The sorcerer spent the whole night checking on you, just in case.

YUTA OKKOTSU

Yuta had been out of town for a couple of weeks now. Needless to say that you were eager to see him again, so when you heard the door opening, you immediately ran to his arms.

Of course, Yuta was just as pleased to see you, he had missed you so much. He didn't waste any time as he picked you up from the floor and hugged you tightly, kissing you as if you hadn't seen each other for years.

However, he pulled away from your lips sooner than you'd like to admit, puting you down rather abruptly. You gave the sorcerer a confused look that clearly demanded an explanation on what the hell was going on.

Yuta placed the back of his hands all over your face, and you realized what he was concerned about. This happened more often than it should. You had explained Yuta many times before that your body tends to be very warm, but still, whenever he felt like it was too much, he'd make a big deal out of it. You gave him an annoyed look and he apologized. "I know, I know. I worry too much." He acknowledged and you offered him a smile.

He gets worried from time to time, yes, but he must admit that he missed how warm your body felt against him every time you went to sleep, probably the reason why he couldn't rest well while he was away.

NAVIGATION

[emyluwinter]

You know, many people think that Crowley gives Yuu also paper (his) work. Poor Prefect...

This is how much material for blackmail he himself provides into the hands of the Prefect!!

Accounting shady dealings? Yes. All the "thanks" from Kalima's father Crowley takes into his pocket - Yuu is aware.

Crowley scratched Crewel's car trying to remove the "shiny" rims from his tires? - Yuu is horrified when he sees the documents that Crowley "melted them down" for a set of letter knives.

Buying up an incredible amount of trinkets in Sam's maganiz? - Yuu are so angry for the first time in their lives because this man promised them a budget for the roof of Onboro from this money!!

Yuu goes to a college for villains, doesn't they?

They has "excellent" examples of how to do it.

Crowley is trying to get Yuu back to work and problems that don't concern them.

- No. - Yuu clearly refuses, unfortunately Crowley has obvious gaps with the understanding of this word. But they now have a sword and a shield. Which were provided to them personally by their "kind" and "generous" director.

- Do not refuse, Prefect, I dare remind you that you are not on simple terms. And oh my poor wallet...

Yuu decides to go on the offensive.

- Oh really? Maybe then you can tell me how you promised me and Grimm a new bed, but instead bought a handmade long-haired carpet from Thorn Valley for several hundred million with money from Kalim's father?

Crowley is suffocating with his own air in his lungs from surprise.

- Oh, it's so terrible, This bed is so hard and old that I'm afraid to wake up every morning lying on the floor, because the mice stole our useless bed for firewood..

Yuu literally copies Crowley's manipulation behavior. While wiping a small tear from the corner of his eyes.

Vil, a nugget for an actor disappears under your nose. Take him to your club soon.

Ace and Deuce look at each other, they don't decide to intervene. ​

- P-Prefect!!! - Crowley immediately bristled as if he was trying to ruffle all his feathers on his cloak.

- I am listening attentively to you, Sir~

Yuu did not intend to lose this fight.

- Watch what you say, otherwise I will cut your budget!!

Oh, so Crowley decided to go ahead? Well, Yuu isn't going to just stand there and watch all this.

- How did they do it for Pomfiore and Octavinelle? Poor students were left without several shower stalls, lighting and rational repairs, due to the fact that you bought yourself a golden set for writing. Oh, they will be surprised when they find out that you used the money that was needed to repair and repair the attic, which increased the high humidity and their skin is in a deplorable state...and all these funds miraculously turned out to be in your office. Interesting~ how their ingenuity will work over the next week.~

Yuu literally hinted to Crowley that Pomfiore would declare war on him and given their skills in poisons and potions.

Well, Director definitely needs to be afraid of every subject in college, knowing that you can cover anything you want with poison.

- Oh, or can you tell Azul that the light has become so unstable in the aquarium because you used an extra expensive backlight for portraits of the Great Seven in your office?Oh and of course this is a luxurious chair~

Ace is rapidly turning pale and pushing his hair back from his forehead

- Holy Seven...I should have taken the popcorn.

After that, Crowley decided not to give "additional tasks" for Yuu as an analysis of documents with his name and personal papers. But he did not realize that they would still be seen because the "cleaning" on his desk continued.

And keeping everything in the first drawer of the desk was definitely not the most brilliant idea.

Crowley tried to "complain" to Crewel about Yuu because they are their students.

Divus was only surprised how such a fearless fighting spirit was sitting in this inconspicuous puppy.

Yuu got some lollipops from Crewel because he was given a small bonus. Of course, the Prefect's fault because they told about Crowley's deeds with the theft of his shiny key chains for pointers and keys.

Crowley swears that they "raised and sheltered the Devil himself"

Azul really asks Yuu for all the information that is on the director after learning about it.

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

���Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”