#and then force my chin upwards with his cane

[creeping-ghost]

i want scarab to declare me guilty of illegal transgressions and threaten me with cruel punishment by his clawed hand should the law not agree with his verdict

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part twenty-seven: "The Grocery Run"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt offers to make you dinner. The pair of you take a trip to a grocery store to get what you need for the meal.

Or

Matt struggles with sensory overload. You also get the feeling there's more behind what he asks you, but you can’t quite seem to figure out what…

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: A little Matt hurt/comfort installment here! And also, later in this series there is a hurt/no comfort arc known as Big Angst (my AO3 readers got paragraphs of end notes of my ramblings about, but just a head's up, you begin to slowly see tension arise between Matt and Reader about a particular topic... As always, you can find the entire list of installments available on tumblr here. Enjoy!

“So, are you free tonight?” Matt asked, slipping his hand into yours as the door to the coffee shop closed behind the pair of you.

Burying your chin into your scarf, the cold November wind chilling you, you fell in step beside Matt on the sidewalk. His cane was tapping rhythmically in front of the pair of you as you helped him navigate the busy afternoon foot traffic of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Yes, I’m free tonight,” you told him, smiling a little into the knitted fabric of your scarf. You’d already spent most of this late Saturday morning and early afternoon together and you felt giddy at the thought of him still not getting enough of you yet. “Something you had in mind?”

His hand squeezed yours, the little gesture drawing a wider smile to your mouth. You lightly bumped your shoulder into his in return.

“I was considering cooking you dinner, if you’d like?” he suggested.

Your left hand flew up to your chest, just over your heart, as you gasped dramatically. Matt’s head turned towards you, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards under his dark lenses.

“Matthew Murdock,” you teased lightly, “are you trying to wine and dine me?”

“You caught me,” he joked back.

Laughing lightly, your gaze dropped back to the sidewalk before the pair of you. The smile was still on your lips as you leaned a little into his side, feeling a bit of his warmth radiate along your side through his winter jacket. You loved living in the city, but you’d begun to love it even more simply for the fact that you often walked everywhere and had an excuse to hold Matt’s hand when he was with you.

“I’d love that,” you told him. “But the issue is, you never have food in your apartment. Did you actually go grocery shopping for this?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. “Honestly I just decided on it while we were having coffee so I still need to go pick up something to make.”

“Or…we could go now?” you offered, glancing at him beside you with a raised brow. “I can come with, if you’d like?”

His head tilted to the side, the smile slipping off of his face as he thought for a moment. As you approached the street corner, you turned the pair of you down another street, Matt following your lead as you took the pair of you closer to a grocery store that you knew was nearby. 

“I guess,” he answered slowly. “If you don’t mind? It’s just that…I tend to have a hard time at grocery stores. I hate them, really,” he admitted, a faint frown on his mouth. "If I don't have groceries delivered I usually go with Foggy."

“Is that why your fridge is always so bare?” you asked, half-joking.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, not exactly. You know I’m usually not at home,” he replied. "Either I order takeout or I don't eat."

"Or I force feed you when you stop by at night," you teased.

"Yes," he agreed, shooting you a grin that had your stomach flipping. "You do that quite often. You know,” he began, tone turning playful, “you might actually be the sole reason I haven't starved yet.”

Leaning over, you placed a gentle kiss to his jacket-clad shoulder. Your eyes caught the little upward curve of his lips in response to the gesture. When you turned your attention ahead of you, you saw the grocery store just halfway down the block.

“So why don’t you like grocery stores?” you asked him curiously. “Besides the fact that most of them around here lack braille signage.”

He glanced downward towards his feet as if he was embarrassed or uncomfortable before he spoke. “Too much noise and stimulation,” he muttered. “Lots of people. Lots of scents. It’s just…it’s all overwhelming. And you’re right, there’s nothing labeled in braille. It’s just not an enjoyable experience.”

You frowned, lowering your head to rest along his shoulder as the pair of you walked. "I figured about the braille but I guess I never really thought about how assaulted your senses must feel in a place filled with people and food," you mused. 

"Yeah, I'm not a fan," he murmured.

"We don't have to make dinner," you said. "Or I can grab everything myself so you don't have to go?"

He leaned over, kissing the top of your head. You smiled contentedly, eyes briefly closing as his warm lips lingered against you. Fuck, you loved this man.

"I'll be okay," he whispered into your hair. "I've got you with me."

You laughed lightly, head still resting along his shoulder as you both neared the store. "You say that like I have some sort of super power," you joked. "Pretty sure that's just you, Matty."

"Actually," Matt quickly countered enthusiastically, "you do. It's right here."

You watched as he paused mid-step, raising the hand holding his cane and tapping a finger lightly over your winter coat, just over your heart. Immediately one of your brows rose curiously onto your forehead as you glanced down at his finger.

"I'm not following," you admitted. 

He laughed, returning his cane to the sidewalk as you both approached the grocery store. "Your heartbeat," Matt explained. "It's calming, in its own way. Oftentimes it's racing or a little uneven, but I like how it sounds. It's unique, more than most heartbeats, so it's easy to zero in on." 

He cleared his throat and your head shifted along his shoulder, glancing up at him. Your eyes narrowed as you swore you saw pink tinge his cheeks. 

"I uh, I usually focus on it whenever I get overwhelmed," he admitted softly. "Even before Marci and Foggy's wedding."

Your heart gave a little stuttering beat at that admission. Beside you, Matt chuckled, his hand squeezing yours.

"Like I said," he began, "oftentimes it's racing or a little uneven, especially when it comes to me."

Feeling a faint blush creep along your face at the new knowledge that Matt had been paying that close of attention to your heart for far longer than you’d realized, you drew the pair of you to a stop in front of the store. Removing your head from his shoulder, you awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and bit your lip.

“You still have a way of making me nervous,” you muttered under your breath. “But uh, we’re here.”

Reaching a hand out, you held the door to the store open for Matt. Your eyes quickly noticed the way his entire body seemed to tense, completely going rigid. A slight frown slipped onto your mouth at the sight as you watched him step into the store. You desperately wished there was something you could do to make this less of a difficult experience for him. 

“Cart or basket?” you asked, trying to keep your voice low as you stepped in beside him.

“Basket is fine,” he answered, posture rigid. “Don’t particularly plan to be here long enough to fill a cart.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you grabbed a basket from the stack near you. As your focus returned to Matt, you saw him folding up his cane. One of your brows rose curiously as you watched him.

“You mind if I just hold onto your arm?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you answered, “Not at all. You want me to put your cane in the basket?”

He shot you a strained smile, nodding quickly. “If you could, thanks,” he replied.

You grabbed the cane from him, quickly depositing it into the basket that you’d looped the handles of over the crook of your arm. Afterwards, you placed one of Matt’s hands along your bicep. He gripped it fairly tight, tighter than he usually did when you helped guide him.

“So what are we grabbing?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light as you led him to the open produce section before the pair of you. You noticed it was fairly busy today, judging by the handful of people milling about the fresh produce. “You have something in mind?”

He cleared his throat, head tilting to the side. “How do you feel about lamb chops?” he asked curiously.

Your brows furrowed, not expecting him to suggest that. “It sounds fancier than what I cook,” you answered. “Honestly, I've never had it before.”

“Are you open to it?” he asked, raising a brow behind his lenses.

“Matt,” you began lightly, “you should know by now that I’m usually always open to trying things with you.”

He leaned down towards you, a sly grin on his face as he whispered into your ear. “Yes, but that’s generally in the bedroom,” he whispered. “I’m talking about eating something that’s actually food right now.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at his words and you swallowed hard, glancing away. His hand abruptly tightened its grip on your arm as a woman pushing a cart with an irritatingly squeaky wheel passed the pair of you. Faintly you registered her perfume on top of that before you realized that had probably been a vastly more intense experience for Matt to endure than it was for you, judging by the death grip he had on your bicep.

“So, we’re currently in the produce section,” you began, trying to focus the pair of you so you could get Matt out of here quicker. “Do we need some vegetables?”

“What are your thoughts on roasted brussel sprouts?” he asked, seeming slightly distracted.

“I enjoy them,” you answered with a grin. “Is that what you want?”

Matt nodded silently beside you, his attention briefly darting off to the side as the corner of his lips turned down. Taking a moment to scan around you for where the brussel sprouts were located, you wondered what he was currently focused in on. Eyes catching sight of the little green vegetables, you gently tugged your arm against Matt’s hold. His head quickly snapped back towards you as you carefully guided him through the produce section, maneuvering the pair of you around other people and the displays of produce until you both reached the brussel sprouts. 

“Do you want–” you began, but were quickly cut off when Matt’s free hand darted out.

Tilting your own head to the side, you watched in curious silence as Matt’s hand scanned along a few different bags filled with brussel sprouts before you. You’d been about to offer to pick one out, planning to find one that looked the freshest, but apparently Matt had his own way of doing things. After a moment he carefully placed one of the bags into the basket hanging off of your arm and your brows rose onto your forehead as you took in the sight of some really fresh brussel sprouts.

“How did you do that?” you asked him in awe.

His attention shifted towards you, a little grin forming on his mouth. “I have heightened senses, remember?” he whispered. “I can focus on which one smells the freshest.”

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. He chuckled lightly beside you, though his grip was still tight on your arm.

“Does that work with all food items?” you asked him curiously.

He shrugged beside you. “I suppose so, yeah. Why?”

“Ugh,” you groaned out playfully, turning the pair of you around. “It’s such a shame grocery stores are so awful for you to endure because I would kill to have you pick out fruit. I am terrible at it. I'd never have a bad watermelon again.”

“Good to know I should never trust you with buying the fruit in the future,” he teased, amused.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously as your attention returned to him. “What do you mean?” you asked. 

He shot you a tight lipped smile, as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to before he quickly shook his head. “Let’s grab a few potatoes for tonight,” he diverted, his attention shifting away from you.

As you led him towards the potatoes, you kept side-eyeing him suspiciously. What had he meant by that? It was almost like he implied there’d be a reason you’d be buying the groceries for the pair of you in the future…

“We need a few red potatoes,” he said, his voice cutting through your train of thought. “I can pick them out if you guide me to where they are.”

You reached out, grabbing his wrist and drawing his hand to the section of red potatoes in the display. Immediately Matt began searching for the best ones, his hand briefly feeling around the potatoes.

“I take it all potatoes smell the same?” you asked him.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at you with an amused grin. “Yes, sweetheart,” he teased, “all potatoes smell pretty much the same.”

“You’re the one with the fancy Devil senses,” you mumbled as he returned to his task. “How am I supposed to know how potatoes smell to you?”

He chuckled, turning and dropping a few of them into the basket. “I suppose that’s a fair point,” he conceded. “Now, we should probably get the lamb. Then maybe a good red wine?”

Your eyes narrowed immediately at the mention of ‘good red wine.’ “Is there a reason you’re making a fancy meal that includes a good red wine, Murdock?” you asked him suspiciously.

He shot you a little grin, shaking his head. “I just want to make my girl a nice dinner. Is that so wrong?” he questioned.

You snorted out a laugh, Matt’s grin only widening at the sound. Leading the pair of you towards the area labeled ‘Meat’, careful to avoid Matt bumping into everyone else who was not remotely paying attention to anything outside of themselves, your eyes began scanning for lamb chops.

“Your girl, huh?” you teased, eyes roving the various packages.

“Mhmm,” he hummed back.

Chewing your lip, your eyes continued to scan the refrigerated shelves. Eventually you spotted the packages, pointing them out to Matt. Wordlessly you saw him reach out, touching a couple packages briefly before grabbing one. As he turned to set it in the basket, you saw him flinch at the exact same time a baby began crying somewhere in the store. Rigid once again, he placed the package of meat into the basket, his hand gripping hard to your bicep. 

“We can leave,” you instantly told him. “If this is too much, we don’t have to stay.” 

He shook his head, lips thinned out into a straight line. There was a pained look on his face even with his glasses on and you found yourself frowning at the sight.

“Are you still wanting to grab that wine before we check out?” you asked him hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice tight.

Nodding slowly, you turned, leading the pair of you towards the long row of aisles past the produce and meat. As you began leading the pair of you past row after row, your eyes were focused on scanning the various signs above them looking for the section with the alcohol. You had been so focused that you didn’t realize Matt had come to a stop behind you until his firm grip on your arm jolted you to a sharp stop. You paused, turning to look over your shoulder at Matt.

Immediately you felt your heart sink. You could see the tight crease between his dark brows that were drawn together low behind his lenses. The muscle in his cheek was twitching visibly, as if he was grinding his teeth together. Behind his glasses you could make out the pinched look on his face.

You stepped back towards him, facing him fully as his hand only wrapped tighter around your arm. “Matty?” you asked nervously. “You okay? Do we need to go?”

The muscles in his cheek continued to jump and twitch, but he made no move to answer. Chewing the inside of your own cheek, you carefully tried to draw him in towards you. He accepted your embrace easily; his face immediately lowered into the skin of your neck that was exposed just above your scarf. You carefully wrapped your one arm around his back, aware of the basket still hanging off of it. Your other hand slid up between the pair of you, coming to gently rest along the back of his head, your fingers gently carding through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him whisper into your neck.

“What?” you asked in shock, ignoring the looks being shot your way from other customers. Normally, you’d have been self-conscious drawing attention to you in any store, but right now you didn’t remotely care. Matt was having a hard time and that was all that mattered to you. 

“I’m sorry I can’t handle a simple grocery trip,” he explained.

“Matt, stop,” you said firmly. “If I could be aware of half of the things you always are, I’d probably always be crying on the floor. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” You lowered your forehead, resting it against his temple. “Do you want to go?” you asked softly. “Or is there something I can do to help?”

He nuzzled his face further into your neck, his hand on your lower back holding you tight to him. “This is helping,” he whispered. “Just…let me focus on you for a minute?”

“Take all the time you need,” you assured him, your hand still gently carding through his hair.

The two of you had stayed like that for a few minutes, just standing in your strange, silent embrace in front of the loaves of bread. A handful of people gave you both strange looks as they pushed their carts past but you ignored them. Eventually Matt pulled away, a sheepish smile on his face as your arms released him.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. 

"Of course, Matt," you said, placing his arm back onto your bicep. "It's not like you haven't always been there to help me whenever I need it. Is there anything that would help you though?"

He smiled a little less uncomfortably now, stepping back beside you and nudging your arm, encouraging you to continue walking. You resumed your search for the wine section, once again guiding the pair of you past the various aisles filled with different items. 

"Your voice," he answered. "Your voice helps."

A blush rose to your cheeks as you spotted the alcohol section a few aisles down, just past the coffee and tea aisle. Leading the pair of you that way, you said, "Now I feel put on the spot to blurt something entertaining."

He chuckled softly beside you. "How about you tell me about that story you've been digging into?” he suggested. “You have been oddly silent about it the past week and a half."

You pulled him down aisle eight, leading you both to the vast section of red wines. "I found some leads," you told him, eyes roving the many bottles of wine before you. "Enough to dig into it and have Ellison extend my deadline. I've been working on it on the side of my other stories, but I think this Wayland Corporation is a part of something bigger. I just can’t figure out what yet."

"You said there was a possible connection to Figueroa?" Matt pressed.

"Oh there's definitely a connection," you assured him. "He was an investor–like big time investor–in Wayland. Pretty sure Figueroa still has a company that is actively investing a hefty amount of money while he's in prison."

"Maybe you shouldn't be looking into this," Matt said, a dark edge to his tone.

You shifted, turning to look at him beside you. A serious, concerned expression had taken residence on his face as he gazed back at you. Those dark red lenses looked almost intimidating. 

"Matt, this is literally what I do," you stated firmly. "I'm an investigative journalist. I investigate things. And I am not letting this go."

"If there's someone bigger than Figueroa behind whatever is going on, you're going to put yourself in danger, sweetheart," Matt pushed. 

You shook your head, eyes landing back on the red wines. "I'll be fine, Matt. No one's going to kill me. And if things start looking like they’ll be dangerous, I'll let you know, okay?" Shooting him a quick look, you saw his jaw was set firm. "You want to help pick out a wine or…?" you asked awkwardly. 

"Any cabernet should do," he answered in a clipped tone.

You frowned, turning to face him fully beside you. "You're mad at me, aren't you?" you asked him carefully. 

"I just don't want to see you getting hurt," he replied stiffly. 

Reaching a hand up nervously, your fingertips gently brushed along the length of his jaw. It was always one of your favorite things to do, touching him like this. His expression softened a little and you smiled, a bit of the tension you’d felt easing. 

"I'll be careful," you promised softly. "But now picking out a red wine to pair with lamb on the other hand," you began, spinning back towards the shelves of options as your hand lowered, "is something I do not feel capable of handling."

Matt chuckled beside you, stepping forward and grabbing a bottle off the shelf just to your right. You watched as he set the bottle in the basket, mouth slightly agape. How in the hell did he keep doing that?

"Oh, yeah," you joked, "that was definitely the bottle I was eyeing."

He grinned at you, tugging your arm a little. "Sure, sweetie. You made a great choice. Now let's get the hell out of here before more people start arguing at the same time a child is breaking a jar of pickles on top of the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, this terrible flashback to the nineties music playing on the speakers, the seven different plastic bags currently rustling, and–"

"Oh my God ," you said, guiding the pair of you out of the aisle quickly. "Let's get you out of here before your head explodes, because now I'm starting to worry. No one should be able to experience that many different sensations all at once."

"I agree," he said, removing his hand from your arm to wrap himself around your waist, lowering his chin to your shoulder as the pair of you walked. "But all of that is nice in one particular situation."

You rolled your eyes, trying to control your body’s reaction to his implication. "You would still find a way to think about that," you mumbled. 

"I'm always thinking about that with you," he countered, voice low.

A thought struck you as you neared the front of the store. "So that's why you're making me dinner!" you blurted.

"What? No!" he quickly responded.

"Oh it totally is," you teased him. "You are trying to wine and dine me."

"Sweetheart, I just wanted to make you a nice dinner," he assured you. 

Your head turned, glancing curiously at him beside you as your pace slowed a bit. He was chewing his bottom lip, the movement catching your eye. Why did he seem nervous?

 "...and to have an excuse to ask you to stay the night again,” he quickly added.

A smile spread over your lips, shaking your head as you pulled the pair of you into a line to check out. "Matt, you don't need to make dinner or come up with an excuse for me to stay, just ask," you told him.

"But,” he began slowly, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him, his voice filled with something you couldn’t quite make out, “what if I want you to stay the night more often?" 

You placed the grocery basket onto the conveyor belt, brows furrowing together as you pulled his cane from it. "We already stay at each other's places multiple times a week," you said. "You want me over…more?"

Turning and looking up at him, you took in the hard to read expression on his face. Once again he almost looked nervous. Why?

"Yes," he said softly.

"I mean…I guess I can stay over more…" you said, brows still furrowed as you studied him beside you. "I just have to figure out how to get to work faster in the mornings when I do. I can’t keep pissing Ellison off and bribing him with coffees."

"You can always leave some of your clothes and things at my place," he offered quickly. “Toothbrush. Shampoo and conditioner. Whatever you need.”

Your brows shot up onto your forehead. He wanted you to leave some of your stuff at his place? Were you hearing him right?

 "Oh, uh, yeah…I uh, I guess that would–would help…" you stammered nervously. “So I could get ready there in the mornings when I stay over, I suppose.”

As Matt silently smiled back at you, you began to wonder why it felt like you were missing something, but you didn’t have long to wonder as the cashier greeted the pair of you and began ringing up your items.

[arcielee]

Dancing in the Dark

Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut/NSFW, 18+, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - ende

Chapter 5

Her green eyes opened, finding herself still on his chest with a bit of drool slipping from the corner of her mouth. She pushed herself to sit upright, her palm reaching to wipe it away. 

Tom grabbed her hand. "Stop that," his voice husky from sleep. He pulled her towards him, back onto his chest and pressed a kiss on her hairline. "I have never slept so well in–fuck–I don't remember."

She could not hide her smile, allowing herself a moment to curl back against his chest, her fingertips softly touching the scarring on his shoulder. He hummed to her touch, rolling towards her and pulling her against him, his mouth searched for hers for a long, slow kiss. "Stop that," she said with a smile, her own voice raspy with the morning. "You will spoil my future mornings this way."

He watched her carefully, his eyes darting back and forth before his hand touched under her chin, bringing her lips to his for one more sweet kiss. She sighed and he pulled back, forcing them both from bed and to get dressed. 

She shyly peered as he pulled on his pants, admiring the flex of his chest and arms as he buttoned them up, he realized her gaze when he reached for his shirt. Tom stopped, his blue eyes focused and his brows raised slightly, his lips curling upwards. "If you don't wipe that look off your face, we will never leave this room," he warned her with his sly smile.

Vera closed her eyes, a blush creeping over her complexion, and she held out a pair of clean socks towards him. “These are thick,” she said. “We have a lot of walking to do.” 

The floorboards creaked as he moved towards her, her eyes opening when she felt his grasp and the touch of his fingertips against hers for a moment. She released her hand to turn, but he was quick to slide arm around her waist and pulled her close for another kiss. Vera closed her eyes again, melting against his chest as her arms wrapping around his neck. When he finally broke the kiss and he said, with an impish grin, “What did I say about that look?”

They found Lyam downstairs, waiting in the lobby with a smile on his face. “I see you have made your amends,” his voice teased. 

In a market close by, they slipped in to grab a few things to prepare for the false impression of a picnic and made their way down the solitary streets, pressing beyond the small town and disappearing into the beginning treeline of the Pyrenees. Once they were secluded in the forest, Lyam lifted his cane to rest on his shoulder and led the way, occasionally checking a small compass he carried and stopping to inconspicuously nick the trees for a way back. 

“To think, Vera,” Lyam called back to them. “If you would have taken up my offer, we would have been walking towards your husband, no?” 

Tom sneered at his words, stealing a glance at her. “Old man is so set to have you in his family, it seems. Keeps bringing up that damn son of his…”

“Tom,” she hissed to him and then called to Lyam. “It will be nice to meet your kin. What are their names?”

“My eldest is Bernard, but he is no longer available,” Lyam reported. “We will meet with them and they will take you to his wife’s family home in Pamplona. I believe they met while I had been admitted in your hospital, and were quick to marry because, well, the heart wants what the heart wants.” He looked back to smile at them. “My youngest,  Léon, he is still available–"

“I don’t understand why to mention that, when she clearly isn’t interested,” Tom cut in, his tone hot. 

"Tom."

“You need more faith in your lady friend,” Lyam teased him, unfazed by the heat of his temper. “I have been trying to wed Vera to one of my boys since we met, but clearly her preference is a temperamental Manc.” 

Tom smirked. “Like you said,” he looked at her with a wink. “The heart wants what the heart wants.” 

As the day waned away, the trees began to thin and the figures of two grown men, one stocky and one leaner, appeared in the distance; Lyam called to them. 

“What do we do now?” Tom asked her.

“We’re in Spain now,” she sighed, her feet tired. “I believe these are his sons.”

“What?” He looked around, searching for a landmark. “When did we cross the border?” 

“About an hour ago?” She guessed, watching as Lyam embraced one man and then moved to the other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She turned back to Tom and saw the blue of his intense eyes looking her over. “We could have celebrated in a way only a man and woman can,” he finished with a grin. 

She sighed again. “This is why I said nothing. We do not have the time-” 

“I can be quick,” he interrupted, stepping closer to rest his hands on her hips. “I promise.”

The breath left her lungs and his smile widened as he watched her mull over his words, their moment interrupted when Lyam called them over to introduce his sons.

Bernard was tall and wide, like his father, with the same piercing eyes and dark hair, untouched by silver, with a clean cut beard. Léon was taller and leaner, clean shaven with his dark hair slick back beneath a cap. They said their goodbyes to Lyam; Vera hugged him fiercely and he whispered to her, “Prends soin de toi ma belle.” 

Be safe, sweet. 

“Send Lucay my love,” Lyam called over his shoulders as he retreated back towards France.

“Lucay is our uncle,” Bernard explained. “Our father’s younger brother.”

“He will help us?” Vera watched him for his response.

“That he will.” His eyes twinkled with his smile, just like his father.  

They followed the Frenchmen, both with a buoyant charisma like their father, and Bernard explained the next steps: they would stay in a villa owned by his in-laws, waiting as his uncle Lucay prepared their papers and for the railways that would bring them to Gibraltar. “Coal is limited, if you can imagine,” Bernard continued. “The train leaves once a week, so we must wait.”

They eventually came to a large villa on the outskirts of the city, amber lights glowing through the window panes. A dark haired woman came out to greet them, her smile bright when she saw Bernard. “This is my beautiful wife, Giulia,” he introduced after their kiss. 

“Welcome,” she smiled, breaking away from her husband and sliding her hand into Vera’s; she did not balk from her touch, her body language exuded a sense of comfort and warmth. “Let us get you cleaned up, you must be so very tired. We have spare clothes you may have and can wash what you are wearing…” she continued on as they walked through the veranda and indoors. They were introduced to her mother and father, ama and aita, and then she brought them upstairs. 

The room was large with a balcony that stretched out and the smell of clean linen on the bed. “I was told by Lyam you were newlyweds–” Vera’s face burned as she looked at Tom, who only grinned and pulled her by her waist closer to him, “–so this room should be enough space. I can take your dirty clothes and bring you something else. The washroom is at the end of the hallway.” 

“Thank you so much,” Vera could not help but smile. 

Her eyes glistened with sadness when she looked at Tom, “I had a brother about your size. I believe his clothes will fit you,” her attention returned to Vera. “I will be right back.”

Giulia was quick to return with clothes and a wicker basket that she left by the door. “You must be exhausted, so please rest up,” she said. “My ama has something prepared if you wish to come down and eat, but…” she had a sly grin, “I know what it is like to be a newlywed.” And without another word, she closed the door with her exit.

Vera pressed her hands against her face, feeling the warmth of her cheeks, and Tom slipped his arms around her waist from behind. “My blushing bride,” he teased and she giggled. He was quick to twirl her in his arms, catching her chin with one hand. “I cannot grow tired of that.”

“Our newlywed faze,” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

“No,” his face seemed almost somber. “You actually laughing.” His hand caught beneath her chin and he tilted her head up, bringing his lips to press against her own. She gave a soft moan and she felt him smile, wrapping his arms around to pull her against his chest. 

He broke from her lips, burying his face into her neck, biting and sucking on her skin, his eyes looking for the bed behind them. “C’mon, missus,” he breathed in her ear, bending to sweep her legs and pick her up in his arms. 

“Tom!” She cried out, a smile still on her lips. “I am disgusting from this day…” 

“You’re right,” he agreed, setting her at the bedside. “Let’s get these off then…” his fingers grasped her fabric, untucking her blouse and working to unbutton, one by one, and peeling it from her shoulders. He stopped to kiss the exposed skin and grinned when goosebumps rippled over her. His eyes roamed her figure, reaching to help her with the skirt. “Christ,” he breathed at the sight of her.

He loved the red blushed that enveloped her, but that she was not shy to reach and begin to unbutton his shirt, her hands working to remove his layers. He rested his hand to her chest when she finished, pushing her until she sat on the bed edge and then leaning to find her lips, his fingers trailing to press into the wetness between her thighs. His kiss pressed her back into the mattress and she sighed with his touch, his two fingers that curled inside her with familiarity and the warmth that burned in the lower pit of her stomach. 

“Bitte,” she moaned, her back arching as her hands pressed into the mattress at her sides. He leaned in for a kiss at the top of her cunt, feeling her hands paw to pull him towards her mouth. “Bitte, Tom, I need you,” her mouth was hot and hungry for his lips. 

He reciprocated in full, his tongue lavishing her taste and teeth biting her bottom lip. Her hands moved to press onto his chest, rolling him onto his back so she could climb on top of him, him pressed between her thighs. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hip as she reached to wrap her hand around his cock and rub his tip against her wet lips. 

Tom groaned, his beautiful eyes rolled to the back of his head, and she bit her bottom lip as she lined him up with her entrance, slow to lower herself onto his cock. She moaned with the stretch to fit within her walls, clenching in response as he filled her to the hilt. With a breath, she placed her hands onto his chest to adjust and felt Tom push himself up, his hands moving from his grasp on her hips and cradling her lower back, his lips pressing against her collarbone. “We can go slow, no rush, love.” 

His words caused her skin to rise in response and she began to slowly grind her hips against his own, her arms wrapping around his shoulder and her lips kissing his hairline, moving to his cheek and to his earlobe, which she chewed. 

Tom moaned and his hand grasped the back of her neck to bring her lips to his, bruising against with a heated kiss and his hips meeting with her deliberate rocking. His kiss caused her pace to quicken, rutting her hips against his and the depth he hit caused her to cry out in pleasure, which he was quick to muffle with a kiss. “Careful,” his voice was low in her ear. “Let’s not wake everyone.” 

Vera nodded, her hand clamped over her mouth and her head buried into his shoulder, and their rhythm continued. He licked his thumb and moved to press at the bloom of her cunt, his palm against her stomach and pressing into her pearl with a pace to match their rhythm.

Her hands grasped into his shoulders, her nails biting his skin. “Tom,” she nearly cried. “I am close… but my legs are tired…” 

He laughed. “Of course they are.” His hands moved below her bottom, grabbing into her cheeks and he lifted her up to roll over on top, placing her feet against his chest to brace her. Her eyes widened at the position as he readjusted and slipped into her warmth, his rhythm returning and his hands grasping the softness of her hips. 

She gasped, her hands covered her mouth again as she felt the waves of her release roll over, clenching at him to coax his own. His nostrils flared and his eyelids fluttered, as his thrust grew sloppy and his arms braced on the sides to lower onto her chest. She sighed and giggled, her hands curling into his hair as he kissed her neck. “Now let's get cleaned up,” he whispered into her neck.

The hallway was empty and lit by the moonlight that showed through the window at the end, giving the villa an ethereal glow. They were quick to wash; Vera admired the droplets of water that rolled down his chest, his abdomen, and he pulled her close to relish in the softness of her curves. 

They helped dry each other and returned to the room and their clean bed, curling beneath the covers and into each other's embrace. 

–

The sun poured in through the lace that covered the windows and the birds chirped outside. Tom stirred when he heard the door open and peered to see Vera stepping in, closing it behind her.  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes for a better look.

She wore an emerald green ruffled skirt that tied around the small of her waist, with a cream colored blouse tucked in, its sleeves spilling off her ivory shoulders. Her dark hair, which was often tucked away in a bun or braid, had been washed and her curls laid drying on her shoulders, dampening the shirt. There was a rosy glow to her pale cheeks and the green from the skirt brought life to her vibrant eyes. 

“They are making us breakfast downstairs,” she said, moving towards the bed. 

“Fuck, you look…” his eyes were wide to take her in and he pushed himself to sit upright. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Tom was pleased to see her rosy cheeks deepen with his compliment and accepted the clean clothes she brought to him. “Giulia gave me this,” she held up the skirt and let it drop, hugging her hips. “She said you may have these, as they were her brothers.”

“Were?” He noticed the past tense and saw her discomfort.

Vera shared that Giulia had been the youngest of three, with two older brothers who were reported missing and presumably dead when Germany invaded Poland. “After they married, he and Léon have been staying since her aita needs help with the farm.”

“The farm?”

Vera nodded. “They have a pig farm. I offered your services while we stay here.”

“You’re putting me to work?” He said with mock hurt. “I just got over this damn bullet wound–”

Her eyes narrowed, but her lips were pressed in a smile. “You are strong, Bennett. They need the help they can get and the train for Gibraltar leaves in five days. We can get a lot done in the time we have.” 

“Yes we can.” He pressed up from the bed, reaching for her arm to bring her towards the bed; she fell into the feather comforter and his lips moved across her neck and chest.

“Tom,” she gave a hush squeal. “They are waiting for us.”

“Let them wait,” he smiled, his teeth nipped at her neck. “You waltz in like a dream and I am expected to just, what? Go downstairs and tend to some damn pigs?”

She could not help the laughter that spilled from her and he let her go from his hold. “You need to eat,” she was adamant. “I have chores as well and then tonight, they will take us into the town for the last day of the festival of San Fermín. There will be fireworks and dancing…”

They went downstairs for breakfast. The boys and Giulia were at the table, along with ama and aita, where the combination of Spanglish was used to talk. Tom and Vera ate their fill, with the men moving to go outside to tend to the swine and the women began to clean up the table. The chores helped the day pass quickly and soon enough the men returned, sweaty. Tom was sunkissed and Vera gave him a warning look, but he pulled her in for a kiss before they left to rotate showers. 

The evening was cool when the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the streets lit up and the sound of music echoed off the buildings as Bernard, Léon, Giulia, Vera, and Tom walked the streets towards the celebration. 

They seated themselves at one of the tables posted around where couples danced below the golden light strung above in strands, enjoying the music played by anyone who wished to join with an instrument. Léon disappeared to grab a smoke and Bernard took Giulia’s hand and led her to join the dancing, twirling her at the waist. 

“Do you dance?” Vera asked, her eyes watching the movement.

“I do not,” he laughed. “Why, do you?”

She shook her head. “I cannot,” she admitted, but her eyes did not leave the dancing in front of them. 

Tom thought to ask her when Léon returned, his cigarette halfway gone, finding them. “You do not dance?” He also asked Tom, his brow furrowed. “No,” his voice was sharp. “The missus cannot dance either.”

Léon laughed. “That I do not believe. Any woman can dance, with the right lead.” He dropped his bud, crushing it beneath his foot, and extended his hand to Vera. She looked at Tom for a moment, a blush crept to her cheeks and she accepted, allowing him to sweep her to her feet, twirling her once and leading her to join.

He steeled his jaw as he watched them dance; Vera was illuminated in the golden hue from the lights above, her cheeks flushed with the movement and her smile unfaltering as she tried to follow Léon’s lead. Even when her steps faltered, she was not discouraged, but he saw her brow furrowed as she would try again. When the song ended,  Léon pulled her in and leaned forward to whisper something to her. 

Vera furrowed her brow in response and she lifted her skirt to leave, returning to find Tom who sulked in his chair. “Wipe off your scowl,” she said, holding her hand to him. 

He glared at her hand for a moment and then grabbed it, allowing her to struggle a moment to pull him to his feet.  “You’re a bossy bird, you know that?” His tone was snide with his comment.

“You are pouting,” she retorted as she pulled him away from the crowd, walking them through the vendors. His hands were in his pockets and she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, peering at his side profile to see his brow knitted and lips pursed. “I only danced because he offered, do not let it ruin tonight.” 

He rolled his eyes, stopping and grabbing her hips. “I am not ruining anything,” he was focused on her and she watched his chest swell with his words. “I just didn’t care for his hands on you.”

“You said you cannot dance,” she returned, refusing to back down. “And he did.” 

“I said I do not dance,” he corrected. “Not that I couldn’t. Besides, why was he so cozy with you at the end?” Her face burned and he pressed. “What did he say, Vera?” She looked away. “He said he stood corrected,” she mumbled. “That not all women could dance…” 

“Fucking twat,” but he smiled with his insult. “The audacity to say this to my missus…”

“He must have found some of yours,” she looked back at him and he tilted his head. “Audacity.” 

His lips pressed into a smile and he shook his head. “I never said I could not dance,” he repeated, his hold bringing her a step towards him. They were away from the crowd, but close enough to hear as the music slowed into a romantic melody, the brass instruments swelled with a passion. Tom took her hands and placed them onto his shoulders, his hands followed her arms, to her curves, and finally rested on her lower back. “Tom…?”

“I’ll prove that cunt wrong,” he said to her, a smile on his face. “Didn’t he say you needed the right lead?” He peered down at her. “Trust me.” 

She allowed her arms to wrap around his neck and leaned forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder, relaxing against his body and falling in their rhythmic sway. 

-----

previous | Chapter 6 - ende

[wolf-in-a-trenchcoat]

I'm bored, so have a (possibly) triggering first chapter look-see of my Ouizzy fic "A Dance With The Devil" that I'm gonna post. I plan to rewrite it to be more canon-accurate but also throw in a little personal spice since I love writing angst.

Also! For those of you who happen to read it anyways, I'd absolutely LOVE some feedback. (That includes the negative feedback. I don't get better unless it's given, and I strive to better my writing). Alright, let me put the trigger warning so we can be prepared!

TW/CW: implied/explicitly expressed abuse, canon typical violence, panic attack, mild aggression, and mentioned amputation and consumption of a toe.

⚠️Reader's discretion is advised.⚠️

Chap 1: Izzy's Torment.

Edward was in a horrid mood again.

Well, Blackbeard.

As typical, Izzy tried keeping things running as smoothly as possible, only speaking when spoken to and snapping orders at the crew if any were caught slacking. He spent the majority of his day limping around the deck, weight leaned on his cane. His foot fucking hurt, and the bandages around it chafed and caused the somewhat healing wound to open and bleed.

Izzy bites back a curse. Literally just a week ago when Blackbeard returned from being willingly captured by the English, Izzy had been force-fed his toe. He remembered that night with very little fondness despite the relieving excitement that coursed through him seeing that dark, malicious glare from Blackbeard. He swallowed thickly, once again reliving having to consume a piece of himself. How fucking poetic.

Leaning against the railing of the Revenge, Izzy stared out into the expanse of water surrounding the ship. The sun was hanging high in the sky, beating down on the deck in exhausting heat. He pulls away, sighing roughly and turned heel towards the lower decks to check in on the crew, to make sure they weren't slacking. They had a tight schedule, and Izzy made sure of it so they would stay busy.

As he descended, he could hear soft murmurs and hurried conversations before they went completely silent. Izzy's stony glare cast over the crew as they stand awkwardly in a circle, eyes directed at the ground as if in submission. Maybe it was genuine submission- that's all Izzy had disciplined into them in his fourteen hour power-trip when Edward was gone.

"What's with all of this... nonsense? Having a little chat with each other? Talking feelings?" Izzy rasps in lilting sarcasm, leaning on his cane with a scowl. No one responds, all except Jim. Their eyes remained trained on the ground, something unusual and out of character to their normally intense glare.

"We need an intervention." Their voice was slow but sure, and then the intense stare strays to Izzy. There was a small shock that ran through him, so subtle he wasn't sure it even happened. He nods his head upwards, chin slightly higher in curiosity.

“An intervention, ay? Ed wouldn't be too fond of that.” Izzy points out, tapping his cane against the floorboards to emphasize it. He sauntered forward, his scowl turning softer. “It's suicide to try and talk him out of this.”

“Still- it'd be better. For all of us.” Frenchie piped in, nervously looking anywhere that wasn't the shorter-statured man. Izzy had noticed the bard was very iffy about eye contact, fluctuating between a hard stare and no eye contact at all. The first-mate didn't know what to make of it, and instead decided it wasn't worth his time- knowing Stede Bonnet's crew, they'd have Izzy soft-side up and forcefully coddled like he was part of their crew. Part of them.

“Get back to work. Fuckin’ useless twats.” Izzy snarled, turning away. A deeper part of him knew that Jim was right- hell, even Frenchie! Of all people, excluding Jim, Frenchie actually had a point- one stating that sitting idly by would only make things worse. Izzy would never admit it, even in his dying breath that he agreed with Stede fucking Bonnet's maniac of a bard. Shame worms its way up Izzy's spine, settling in the center of his chest like a weight in his ribcage.

He… wanted to mutiny against Blackbeard. The one thing Izzy swore his life to uphold the name of, and here he was regretting his choices. A sickening feeling sits ominously idle in his gut, like a viper waiting to strike… waiting until Izzy is distracted. The first-mate swallowed back the rising pain in his throat, stalking off to the top deck and not even waiting to see if the crew listened.

He found himself below deck in his cabin. He was pacing the cramped room, hands tangled in his graying hair, trying to calm the raging storm of emotions in his mind. Izzy was never one for emotions, always keeping them bottled up until they all came out in spiteful insults and barked orders. Right now was not one of those times.

In a swift attempt of releasing his pent up self-destructive loathing, he grabbed a stool and threw it against the wall, the wood exploding into splintering shrapnel as it made impact. Izzy let out a strained shout, heaving in breaths as his attempt of control became vain. He had never let the thought of mutiny cross his mind.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Izzy growls, sitting roughly on his rickety cot and burying his face in his hands. He was sure his death was imminent if Blackbeard heard any whisper or word of possible opposition. The crew would die alongside Izzy if they didn't cower to the Kraken's absolutely mental demands and pressuring emotional manipulation.

Izzy Hands wanted to turncoat on Blackbeard, the man- no, the myth- he helped create. To break the promise he had made so long ago that it became the very air he breathed to upkeep. All for just a little taste of comfort in a trying time that won't last. He was stupid for letting himself be so… invested in the damn crew. How they felt, how they saw him, how they fucking bitched and moaned about how horrible Blackbeard treated them and yet, Izzy understood. How, he'd never know and even if he did, he'd never tell.

Of all people, Israel Hands understood their pain. Of all things, he could empathize with their distaste and wariness of Blackbeard's volatile behavior. The only grace Izzy gave the crew was being the one who took the brunt of all of the Kraken's anger and physical violence. And he wanted it. He deserved it.

A strangled sob left him, his heart hammering in his chest as his throat felt like it was closing. The walls felt like they were closing, his vision tunneling into the abysmal darkness of his own mind, eating away at whatever control he had garnered before it all went black. Silent. His body ached, his chest tightened and he couldn't breathe. He blindly grabs at his shirt, the collar, ripping at his clothes just for some air. Another noise left him as his struggles proved fruitless and he felt suffocated in the weight of this newfound desire to flee. To run from his past, his choices, his actions.

And as if it were as sudden as it set in, he calmed. His breathing was still yet heavy and sharp, sweat soaking his brow and clothes. He was shaking, hands gripping the front of his leather vest like his life was on the line. And it was. If he even told Ed about any of this, he'd lose another toe- no, his entire foot, maybe his life. He inhaled sharply, shakily. He had to set this right.

Whatever it was he needed to do, he'd do it. He stiffly removed his hands from his shirt, gingerly flexing his fingers to get feeling back into them. Smoothing back his disheveled hair and wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he took in a steadier breath. He'd steel himself, force back all of this panic and anguish and become Izzy Hands again. Cold, stoic, and damn near emotionless. Calculated- not some emotional disaster who couldn't even fathom not being dependent on his captain.

[rosetintedgunman]

monochrome eyes trained along a similar face ( not necessarily familiar ) , chin tilting upward before a usually bellowing voice now calm filled his void , his home . “ you’re a friend of a friend . “ james’ cane clacks as he slowly approaches . “ deok-su has told me of you , rose . a peculiar specimen you are . “ for once , without force , a smile comes to his greyed features . “ tell me , what brings you here , wilford ? “

( *slaps the roof of my blog* this bad boy can hold so much interconnected lore! always hai ash!! i knew you were pondering on these boys and james had a thought so! :3c)

@gamethecry

-

The Moonlight Roller had been quiet as he tidied up for the evening. A door to the back of the bar that was normally locked had a strange, black glow emitting from underneath it.

Wilford approached the closed door, watching the glow with a hand on his hip for several moments.

"... huh. Guess I gotta sort this out." It would be incredibly awkward for a bar patron to accidentally cross timelines or worlds when trying to find the bathroom. That's Wilford's job! He had the skills to leave and come back!

The door was opened, and in he went.

-

It was a void. It was not anything to surprise the reporter, but it did narrow down the options. It was ominous, but there wasn't any danger linked with it. Something - or someone - resided here. Even if there was danger, Wilford wouldn't be killed permanently, so there was nothing that would scare him. On he would walk, until he found a person.

Wilford might be known as the fool, but there were things he knew about. For instance, he knew that the stranger in front of him had some sort of fate akin to a Dark, but might not be directly connected. Aside from the familiar hint of red and blue, there was an 'air' that all Dark-adjacent individuals shared. Wilford couldn't quite explain what exactly that 'air' was, but it was there.

(What was with Darks and owning voids? He'd need to ask his outlier friend.)

He was an intruder, but there was nothing to suggest that he was there to cause harm. The stranger's calm reaction and slow approach showed that this sentiment was received.

(Oh hey, another Dark with a cane :-}) )

"Ya know Deok-Su?" A smile appeared under the moustache. Old habits died hard, and that included trusting people whom people he trusted liked.

(Ah, his dear hotteok...)

Wait. There was a conversation. Focus!

"Our places are connected." Using his thumb to point behind him, Wilford decided that being honest was, indeed, the best policy. "Part of yer void has connected ta one of th' doors in th' Roller, th' skate rink I own. More specifically, one of th' doors in th' bar. Wanted ta make sure everythin' was peachy. But now that I'm here I wanna say hi ta who might be a new neighbour. I would imagine y've a name that ya prefer over 'Dark'?"

A thought crossed his mind. He remembered Deok-Su implying that the Wilford in his timeline was also a non-human. Maybe this Dark had a similar encounter with his corresponding Wilford.

Both thumbs slipped under his suspenders and playfully tugged them. "Don't worry. I'm not peculiar. I'm just a normal fella. Might be here a bit too long, yeah, but there's nothin' too weird or spooky 'bout me!"

[conretewings]

I posted 718 times in 2022

That's 70 more posts than 2021!

138 posts created (19%)

580 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kellconrad

@lucklesslongshot

@pokecraftking

@barbersjoy

@immortalbumblebee

I tagged 690 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#*this is your queue* - 211 posts

#arcane - 193 posts

#vander arcane - 161 posts

#arcane vander - 134 posts

#vander x reader - 96 posts

#vander - 75 posts

#arcane netflix - 74 posts

#arcane fanart - 73 posts

#arcane vi - 49 posts

#arcane silco - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#just a fraction because the man is built like a brick house but it's there showing the force of her movement and how he's relaxed

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

what about some random dude out in public sees viktor’s cane and limp and tells reader he could show her what it’s like to be with a ‘real man.’ back home, viktor shows her just what a real man can do (wink wink)

-Aaaah, intriguing. *runs hands together* I've never written for Viktor but! I do also love him, and I'll do my best here. :)

Viktor x fem!reader (NSFW! 18+ only!!)

———————————————————

"Can you believe they mixed up the Acacia and Acaena genuses? I mean, I understand they're similarly spelled but honestly..."

"Well, not everyone is as passionate and sharp-eyed as you, dear."

Stars twinkle above in the blue-purple evening skies, the rain shower from earlier making the cobblestones shine under the light from streetlamps and windows as you walk arm-in-arm with Viktor down a shop-lined street. Having both been cooped up in your respective labs for the greater part of a week and not having time to see each other, you'd finally managed to find said time (and managed to pry him away from his desk) to head out on a much-needed date.

You'd heard about an upcoming exhibition on plants, flowers and their various adaptations to different environments at the largest and nicest museum in Piltover, and being an enthusiastic botanist you couldn't pass up the chance. When you'd suggested the idea Viktor had been...less enthused yet still intrigued; perhaps this would be a welcome distraction from his own intense schedule, a breath of fresh air to help him refocus. Not to mention, spending an evening with you was a delightful idea in itself.

"One would think that, being a scientific institution, they would make certain displays were correctly labeled before it opened. What if people learned the wrong plant names and made a fool of themselves? Or which would be pleasant in your home and which would release revolting smelling pollen?!" you continue with self-assured indignation.

A bemused, teasing smile tugs at Viktor's mouth, "What indeed. Goodness it would be a shame if someone walked into their kitchen to find it ruined by a houseplant. Truly a tragedy."

"Very funny, Viktor." you dryly reply, then pause suddenly, gently pulling your arm from his and gazing forlornly at your feet. He stops as well, eyebrow raised in question and you sigh, "I'm...sorry I get so...into my field. I know it's not your thing."

He hums, shifting his weight and giving his cane a few thoughtful taps on the ground, then points to a nearby planter overflowing with red and pink blooms, "What are those flowers called?"

"They're begonias...?" you reply, mildly confused.

"Ah, see, without you I might never have known that," he turns to look at you, "But now I do. The point is, though our passions and fields of study are different, it doesn't mean we can't appreciate and even learn from each other's," his lips quirk up in a small smile, slender fingers on your chin to tilt your face upward and you almost have to stop yourself from kissing him right then, "Sometimes looking at different things, or the same from a new angle, affords you a better understanding and love for them."

Touched, you break into a shy yet beaming grin, simultaneously hating and loving how easily he could make your face warm and heart flutter. You lean forward enough to bump your nose against his with a tiny huff of a laugh.

"How dare you make me blush like a smitten teenager...but thank you..."

He tilts his head ever so much, a silent signal and you do the same, your lips finally meeting with the softest touch and you swear you could melt to join the puddles in the cobblestones below. Pulling away, he moves to take your arm again and you both resume walking, chatting more about the exhibit and Viktor's newest discoveries with his own research.

A few minutes later, among the many small shops you pass a bakery and patisserie, it's windows bordered with tiny lights and displaying a neatly written sign declaring a '50% off sale on our famous macaroons!'

"I've actually never had a macaroon." you muse aloud, and Viktor shrugs, "Nor have I."

An idea grabs hold and you grin, telling him with a quick peck on the cheek you'll 'be right back!' and pull away to slip inside. Viktor shakes his head lightly with another crooked smile, then pulls a book from his coat pocket and steps off more out of the way to await.

Mere minutes later, you emerge cradling a neatly folded white paper bag containing four assorted flavors-in your enthusiasm you'd forgotten to ask Viktor what sort he may like-when you pass an all-too-familiar figure just entering the shop, who does a double-take and smirks, faking surprise.

"Ah, we meet again, miss." he says coolly, his voice like velvet and yet sandpaper.

Oh no. Your smile and stomach drop as you remember dealing with him a mere couple hours before at the very exhibit you and Viktor had recently left; he'd approached you when you'd wandered away from your date for a moment to more closely inspect a display, asking if you'd like to join him for drinks...and it had taken several increasingly curt refusals before he'd begrudgingly given up.

"That offer still stands, you know," he continues with a clumsy bow, "I would love to show such a lovely creature a lovely time..."

"As I've already stated, several times if I recall, I'm not interested, and happily spoken for thank you-" close to him as you are, you're able to catch the whiff of alcohol on his breath and clothes; apparently he'd already started without you and your nose wrinkles, "And it seems my company wasn't needed for your inebriation anyway. Good night."

Without waiting you turn on your heel and stalk back to Viktor, your heart instantly at ease when he looks up-then his expression shifts as his eyes dart behind you, and you glance to see you, unfortunately, had a tag along. Reaching Viktor you immediately link your arm with his and spin to face the absolute buffoon who it seemed was more determined than you thought.

"Erm, who...?" wonders Viktor aloud, catching your gaze as he slips the book back into his pocket.

That gaze then settles fiercely on the man, silently warning him to leave, "He asked if I wished to join him. I politely declined. Multiple times. Let's go, darling."

The man takes a quick step to the side, blocking your paths. His face has warped from a cool yet polite smile to one of irritable disgust as he suddenly scans Viktor up and down, noting his slender frame, cane and slightly unsteady gait. Viktor glowers back at him, as much for your sake as his own, knowing exactly what the man was thinking.

Unable or unwilling to suppress a sarcastic laugh the man scoffs, "Really now? You would choose him, this frail thing, over someone like myself? Goodness my sweet, you're beautiful and vibrant! Surely you can find a real man to attach yourself to! Luckily for you," he tugs on his lapels and tosses you a wink, "I'm more than happy to show you what it's like to be with a real man..."

See the full post

223 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#4

You 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 tell me Vander wouldn’t want Reader to ride his thigh and be touching her all over. I swear that man would find her the sexiest thing, especially if she had gotten protective over the kids that day.

That being said: could you please do a fem!Reader x Vander with thigh riding? I love your writing and I hope you have a good day!

-Oh MY 👀👀👀 Well, firstly thank you so much! Secondly, hoo boi this is gonna get spicy...

-THIS WILL BE MILDLY NSFW YOU'VE BEEN ADVISED-

There was a lot to clean up that night, especially after a particularly rowdy bachelor party had all but overtaken the bar. But finally, after a lot of mopping spilled beer (which Vander swore, quite literally, he should have charged them double for) and putting chairs back into their proper spots the place was cleaned and ready to go for tomorrow.

You were next to him putting supplies away, and Vander looked up at you while washing his hands of dirt and sticky residue with a grin remembering earlier; toward the end of the party Mylo and Claggor had appeared to check it out, and hopefully charm the drunk partygoers into giving them some coins, and had been roped into a...very inappropriate conversation, to which you had swooped in to give the men such hell they swiftly apologized. Vander had watched, both amused at the sight of them almost cowering at your fury and grateful to know such a fiercely loving woman.

You catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye, those handsome features set in a warm, coy half-smile that was making your knees weaker than they had any right to be and sending shivers to places that could be dangerous if he kept it up.

"Gods I love ya..." he murmurs lowly, so much you paused to glance at him and tilt your head, "Hmm?"

"Said I love ya," he repeats, and turns to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, letting his hand linger against your jaw, "Now...what say we head to bed?"

By the time you reach the bedroom, sideways looks and brushing touches had turned into longing kisses and you being pressed to the door as soon as it was shut. It's been a couple days since you two had even seen each other, and weeks since you'd had the time or energy for anything else, so it's no surprise when shoes are quickly kicked off and clothing haphazardly loosened or outright discarded.

"So this is how it is?" you sass, and he gives a brief chuckle into your neck where his mouth has been busy, "Shush. I do believe ya started it."

"That's besides the-"

Your retort is cut off by his lips pressed to yours as he hoists you by the waist and stumbles to the bed, dropping on it with you straddling him. Both your hands and lips are all over each other at this point, breath heavy, sheer need quickly replacing any semblance of gentle restraint as you slide your splayed fingers up from his stomach to his chest, relishing the feel of his muscles; despite not being quite as sculpted as he once was he was still incredibly sexy and those muscles were no less powerful, as your very sore body could attest to occasionally.

You both shift a little for better access and you end up straddling just one of his thighs, and with how hot your body already was running, the simple feel of his leg between yours was enough to send a shudder through you...and some deep, primal instinct takes over your lust-addled mind as you began to grind yourself against him, moaning into his kiss.

It took him a moment to realize what you were doing but then he grins wolfishly, sliding his hands to your hips, "That wound up over me eh?"

Somehow his acknowledgement of your actions gives you pause, feeling more guilt than thrill, and sensing your hesitation he digs his fingers a little more into your skin as his eyes burn into yours with enough intensity to give you shivers all over again, "Oh don't be ashamed darlin'...if this is what you want, do it. I love knowin' I'm makin' ya feel so good-mmm my amazin' woman...go on..."

Your heart swells; he calls you amazing, yet here he is always being amazing to you. Before you can respond with words he uses the grip on your hips to continue your movements himself, his mouth finding your neck again, grazing your collarbone with his teeth, sending sparks through your veins and muddling all rational thought. By this point your body is acting on it's own again, with you grasping his shoulders for leverage as you rock your hips and grind your most sensitive spots against him, each repitition stoking the fire in your belly.

Meanwhile, his hands are busy with one still clutching your hip and thigh for 'assistance', the other free to roam up and down your back, front, and anywhere else within reach while he murmurs sweet encouragments alongside much naughtier things into your skin and you swear you might combust if this keeps up.

"That feel good yeah? Keep goin'...I love ya so much...I am gonna ravage you so badly-you know that right? Ah but I know how much ya love feelin' me inside you...in fact-"

He falls backwards onto the bed while still gripping your hips and pulls you up so you're now fully straddling him again, the springs creaking with your combined weight. Suddenly, you find something else between your legs, no less hard or eager and you groan appreciatively while meeting his hooded gaze.

"Well, let's see if you're right..."

230 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

#3

So.....a guy asks Vander if that "sexy piece of ass" is single, gesturing towards reader.....how's that go?

-*nervous laughter* About as well as you'd expect, Anon. I'm going off the assumption that reader and Vander are together for this.

"Hey...hey. Hey brother..." a customer loudly whispers, leaning forward slightly and discreetly waving a hand to catch his target's attention.

It's a fairly quiet evening at the bar, no doubt due to the quite popular, and quite illegal (not that anyone cared to enforce the rules) prize fight tournament going on in another part of the city. Vander, who has been wiping down the counters and prepping for the swarm to arrive later, glances up at the man.

"Yeah? What can I get ya?"

A dopey, lopsided grin breaks out on his flushed face, being already clearly buzzed and he turns his head to gaze at a person sitting at a small table near the jukebox with the kids, playing cards. They smirk triumphantly and slap their cards on the table as the kids groan and protest, the winner evident before Mylo insists on 'one more game!' However, they laugh and stand, saying sure but they'll be right back and start heading toward the counter.

The man follows their movement, licking his lips and his smirk goes lustful as he quietly asks, "Oy, you know if that sexy piece of ass is single? Damn the things I'd do to them!"

Vander stops instantly, his hand tightly clutching the rag he'd been using and exhales with an annoyed huff. The customer doesn't pick up on this, being too inebriated and too distracted by your form standing nearby.

"Could we get a few cups of juice?" you ask Vander with a chuckle, "Poor kids are...Vander?"

You're the one to notice his demeanor, the furrow of his brows as he scowls at the man and tight grip on the rag and wonder what's wrong. He meets your eyes and his expression quickly softens, then takes on a hint of mischief as he tosses the cloth over a broad shoulder and grabs a couple cups.

"Sure thing."

He fills them then as he sets them on a tray for you, leans over the counter to grasp the back of your head and passionately presses his lips to yours. You make a startled 'mmph?' sound, but swiftly melt into the kiss. He pulls back and the hairs on your neck are standing up with the sudden intensity of his actions.

"Honeybear..?" you murmur in confusion but appreciation. Public displays of affection were not something he normally did, a large hand settled on your waist or quick peck on the head being about all.

"Just felt like it, love. Now go show 'em 'ow to play properly. And get ready we'll probably 'ave a crowd later."

You grin, still feeling the lingering warmth of his lips, "Well I'm not complaining...and will do, boss man."

As you take the tray and head back, the customer, who's been watching this entire exchange with increasing levels of embarrassment and despair has now slumped onto the bar, his head lolled onto his arms. Vander shoots him a withering look.

"No, they're not." he says sarcastically, going back to his tasks.

243 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

#2

Senario: Vander smacks your ass behind the bar while a guy is hitting on you. In turn, a few days pass and a woman is hitting on Vander..........*warms um palms* Don't hold back lol

Oh friend. You've started something. 😘 You and everyone else please enjoy this little treat:

-It's one of those nights, nights where the bar is especially crowded and the entire place is a raucous din of chatter, drunken laughter, the clattering of mugs on tables, and the occasional dispute, with the old jukebox trying it's best to be heard above the noise.

"Round for the left corner table!" calls Vander as he passes you a tray of drinks. Taking it and flashing him a warm smile, you go to serve them...ignoring the man sitting at the end of the bar who has been pointedly eyeing and grinning like a fool at you for some time now.

Once you come back and pass him again he raises his hand to say, "'Scuse me ma'am, might I have another ale? And...a word if that's alright."

"Sure comin' up," you answer, and grabbing a clean mug pour him the drink and slide it over, then pause in front of him, "Now what's up? Someone bothering you?"

"Nah...but I uh..." he rests his chin in his hand and looks at you with a half lidded, lopsided smirk, "I wish someone was..."

"....Ah. I see." you answer flatly, leaning one elbow on the counter; so he was trying, terribly, to flirt. It seemed that, unlike a lot of the other patrons, this guy didn't realize you were dating the owner.

After a hiccup and clearing his throat, he 'walks' his fingers across the warped wood toward your arm and asks, "So uh...what're you doin' later after leavin' this dump?"

Before you can answer you feel a large hand on your upper back. You know that touch very well, and turn your head to see Vander standing there, giving the man that particular, tight-lipped grin that you recognize as quite the opposite of amused, his eyes narrowed.

"It may be a dump, but it's mine. Now then mate, ya mind tellin' me why you're harassing my staff?" he all but growls.

The man gapes at him stupidly and warily withdraws his own hand, eyes glazed from drink, "Um...I uh..."

"Well," Vander continues, and as he's speaking his hand slides down your back lower and lower until it's settled by your tailbone as you feel goosebumps dance across your skin from his caress, "I think you've had enough, and I'm going to have to cut you off for your own safety..."

And now his hand moves off you for only a split second before you feel the sharp and not unwelcome slap of his broad hand on your ass. The angle at which you two were standing assured no one could see, and you hiss in a quick breath, struggling to remain composed and shoot him an affectionate smirk while mouthing 'you bastard'. He throws you a quick wink and strides off while the man is already on his feet and weaving his way toward the door.

Part 2 under the cut because this is turning out longer than I expected:

Some days had passed since then, when during a slightly more quiet evening, you came back from taking orders to find a quite voluptuous woman who seemed to be quite taken with Vander. He was busy doing some intermittent cleaning behind the bar, and she was perched on a chair, talking to him and leaning forward enough to make quite the display of her ample cleavage. He was paying her no mind beyond asking if she needed another drink, and you bristle; oh. So this was how he had felt when the scenario was reversed.

It wasn't that you two didn't trust each other; mutual respect and trust came in spades for you both, but there was something about seeing another person making a play for your love that set the blood afire and ignited a protective, challenging instinct. Thus, you stuff your notebook in a pocket and go around behind the counter, stepping up to him and tapping his arm.

"Could you help me grab something from the storeroom?" you ask nonchalantly while shooting the woman a cool glance.

"Sure thing." he replies, dropping his cleaning rag and following you into a small side room around the corner, more of a closet than anything.

He doesn't see your smug grin, or you arcing your arm back as he sidles past you and asks, "Alright what did you-"

You swing your hand and crack him smartly right on his ass and he starts while you chuckle triumphantly, "Ha! That's for the other day. You did it while someone was flirting with me, thought I'd return the favor."

There's a momentary pause, then he twists his head just enough to peer at you over his shoulder; uh oh. You see the challenging glint there and before you can make another move he whirls, grasping you by the hips and hoisting you in the air, roughly pinning you to the wall with his body and you both ignore the several cans and other items that fall and clatter on the floor. You throw your arms around his shoulders as your legs encircle his waist and he leans in to growl lowly into your collarbone.

"Now now darlin'...if ya want to start something it'll hafta wait until closing. But until then..."

His hot breath against your skin and the promise of his words have already gotten your blood up, but then he clamps his mouth on your neck, kissing and nipping, making you let out a sharp gasp and moan. You twist your head to meet his lips with your own, pressing hard and running your tongue along his bottom lip. He grunts, fingers digging into your thighs and he deepens the kiss before you both pull back, breath heavy and he carefully lowers you to the floor.

You rest your hands on his chest and look up at him while biting your lip, "Later?"

"Aye definitely..." he replies, planting another kiss on your forehead then taking several deep breaths to calm down, and you both, as casually as possible, head back.

391 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Can I get some Vander protecting his lady? A rowdy young man tries to make a pass and doesn't take your decline. Vander starts calm as possible but......poor poor idiot makes a grab at you.

-OH I HAVE BEEN ITCHING TO ANSWER THIS 😎

It's another busy night at the Last Drop, not that any were particularly empty with most of the city's residents passing through on a semi-regular basis, and the drinks and raucous conversation flowed. It was one of those nights that Vander called you and one other person in for additional assistance taking care of patrons, and you'd been kept on your toes all shift.

As you're taking empty mugs from one table, another flags you down and you quickly step over, notepad balanced in your hands, "What can I get you guys?"

"I'll have a beer!"

"Two for me!"

"A cyanide sour!"

"Whiskey, best ya got...and I still want some time alone with your sweet self..."

You jot down the tables orders, pausing when you reach the last one, glancing up sourly as you jab your pen pointedly back in your pocket, "I'll be right back with your drinks, and only your drinks."

This was the third time this customer had made passes at you, each time becoming a little more insistent, and you becoming more annoyed. It was far from the first time some buzzed bozo had tried to flirt with you, but this particular guy wasn't backing off. The first time, you'd calmly told him you weren't interested; the second you'd informed him you were spoken for and he needed to stop.

You stalk back up to the counter, slamming the mugs down near Vander with enough force for him to do a double take and look up at you.

"Everythin' alright love?" he queries with a crooked eyebrow, seeing the fire in your gaze.

He sees you glowering sideways toward a table and following your line of sight, sees that customer lustfully eyeing you, catching his friends attention to make a stroking gesture toward his crotch as they all howl with laughter.

Vander exhales in a growl, recognizing the guy as the same one whom you mentioned earlier and leans forward toward you a little, "Is he still not gettin' the hint?"

"Nope," you reply through clenched teeth.

"Say the word darlin' and I'll personally throw'im out on his ass."

"If he tries anything else you can throw out what's left of him after I'm done."

He barks out a short laugh, your statement an unexpected and vivid reminder of one of the many reasons he loved you-your intellect, your beauty, your huge and fierce heart of course, now here was another; your unwillingness to take shit from anyone, especially obnoxious little rats like this guy. Reaching over, he gives your hand a brief, affectionate squeeze and flashes a reassuring smile before turning to fulfill the orders you had, passing you the stocked tray when he was finished.

He watches you walk away, another small smile on his face and pondering how he'd gotten so damn lucky before going back to his many other tasks.

Weaving between tables and patrons at various levels of intoxication, you deliver the drinks to a couple other spots...then draw a calming breath before heading back to the one you dreaded. Luckily they seemed more interested in whatever asinine conversation they were having than you at the moment, so you quickly set the mugs or glasses down and start to turn away.

"Heeeey there she ish!" the idiot slurred, blowing a kiss at you and beckoning you closer, "C'MON doll gimme a chance I shwear you'll love it!"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you no, but NO," you snap firmly, gripping your tray, "Last chance. Back. Off."

The mood suddenly shifts in his bloodshot eyes, turning oddly dark and deciding you've had enough, you whirl on your heel and turn your back, reconsidering Vander's offer-

When the man abruptly lurches forward, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you backwards so you end up losing your balance, dropping your tray and fall right into his lap. You gasp out a string of curses, furious and indignant as you try to push him off but he holds you fast around your waist, and at this point even his companions are telling him to knock it off.

Still refusing to give up and now clearly feeling slighted, he whines angrily, "I dunno who thish dude is ya got but baby I can do better-" one hand slides up your side towards your chest.

The adrenaline and rage fully kick in and you throw your head backwards into his face, cracking against it and he shouts in pain, loosening his grip enough for you to break free, whereupon you leap away and whirl, swinging your fist right into his nose as onlookers cheer for you.

"Gyaaah!" he screeches, eyes scrunched shut yet still grabs for you, "Little bitch-!" but you spin away and take a quick step forward-

And right into Vander's arms.

He had seen most of what happened, your initial shout grabbing his attention. Instantly his hands curled into white-knuckled fists, cold fury boiling in his gut.

See the full post

462 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[octopus-reactivated]

Royal whumpy unnamed whump story part 5

i really need a title for that

also, this chapter was meant to be more comfort than hurt, but everyone demaned blood, so...

Tw/cw: royal whump, fantasy whump, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, manhandling, sort of intimate whumper? , canning

“And what do we have there?” Father Emperor looked down at him.

Liam collected himself as quickly as it was possible with glass shards in his hands. He bowed down, ignoring his body pleading for relief from pain.

“I apologize if my accident disrupted your walk,” he said, eyes on the floor. Pair of gold embroidered boots appeared in his field of vision, slowly soaking in wine. He felt hand on his chin and his head was gently moved upwards, forcing him to look into the Emperor's eyes. They were in a warm, golden color, yet somehow they appeared cold.

“Tell me Son,” Father Emperor said in a calm voice “what happened there?”

“I…” Liam hesitated for a bit. It was clear that Albert and Fox wanted for him to be in trouble, just as it was clear that any accusation towards Emperor’s family will only worsen his his situation “I was send with errand and was going back, when i fallen down the stairs”

“Poor thing, you slipped?”

“Well…” Liam turned his eyes away

“Well?” Emperor forced him to look back at him

“Someone pushed me, but i saw no faces and it’s inclean on whether it was intentionally or not”

“Does it mean we don’t know who’s accountable for this?”

“That is correct, your highness”

“And yet we can’t let it go unpunished” Emperor’s voice did not change from that calm tone, but that one sentence made Liam shiver “So if no one is to be accused, isn’t it just to hold you responsible for wasting our goods, is it?”

Father Emperor turned around and called one of the servants

“Take our prince and make him look less miserable. Then take him to the eastern meeting chamber. I will expect you in a hour”

_______

The blood and wine was washed from him and the glass shards removed. They also told him to change his clothes for clean ones. He was given a simple, undyed tunic. The bleeding from his arm was stopped, but the wound was left without any bandages. When he was ready, the servant brought him to a spacious chamber, where Father Emperor awaited. There were some people with him, some seemed like servants, others like members of the royal family. Prince noticed Charlie was there too. He gave Liam a reassuring smile, trying to cover his sad expression.

“Well, since we’re all there shall we start?” Emperor said “Prince Liam, tell us about wine you wasted”

“One bottle of red rose wine. Made in the southern region of Reuna. Year 4991… if i’m not mistaken”

“That would make it 85 years old. I think it would be just if you pay with 85 hits, don’t you agree?” Emperor asked. It was clear that any attempts at disagreement would only make it worse.

“Your highness is judge there” Laim said, grinning his teeth

“That’s correct. You will be allowed to support yourself on the wall, but if you fail, I will require you to get up. Is this clear?”

“Yes, your highness”

“Let’s start then”

Laim saw a servant- no- soldier approaching. He was almost head higher than the prince and much more muscular. He held a cane. When Soldier raised his hand, Liam turned around to avoid getting hitted in the face. He heard the whistle and split a second later, cane landed on his back. It was stronger than he expected and he wobbled a bit. He felt how the flesh on his neck and back became hot.

One.

_______

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror @kim-poce @jordanstrophe @bloodsweatandpotato @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @heathenwhump @tears-and-lilies

[heytherejulietx]

okay you already know what I want, but that prompt 35 pls and if you want a kissing one with it, top of head kiss would work well 🥰 ILY BESTIE

Hurt / Comfort prompt list.

Kisses prompt list.

Reggie Mantle - Helping the other person when they’re sick and have nobody else to help. | Top of the head kiss.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @luella-cane @literarygetaway21 @hopeversusillusions

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Y/N let out a low groan into her pillow when her phone started ringing, the noise so loud it hurt her head, which already felt like she had been hit with a shovel. She reached her arm out and patted across her bedside table for a moment so she didn’t have to open her eyes, which felt like they were glued shut; and managed to knock over a bottle of water and a photo frame in the process. By the time she had picked up the phone she was frowning, huffing as she answered it and put it to her ear.

“Hmm?” She managed to briefly hum as she rolled onto her back, her body aching and sore.

“Good morning sweetcheeks,” Her best friend’s voice boomed over the phone and she groaned, immediately turning the volume down. “Woah, ouch, not happy to hear from me?”

“You’re too loud Reggie,” Y/N complained quietly as she lifted her hand to rub her eyes. “Why are you calling, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Reggie countered, and she winced a little.

Y/N had meant to tell him she wouldn’t be in school the night before but she must’ve passed out before she had the chance. She hadn’t been feeling too well for the whole weekend; her fever kept getting worse and each throb of her headache felt like a direct shot to the brain. To make it worse her parents weren’t home as they were out for two weeks on a trip, so she was on her own. And she definitely didn’t have enough energy to even crawl out of bed, let alone go to school.

“Sorry Reg I meant to say, I can’t come in today.”

“Why not?” She could practically hear him pouting over the phone and couldn’t help the slight smile that passed over her lips.

“‘Cause I don’t feel too well. I’ll sleep it off today and I’ll be back tomorrow, promise.” She said quietly, before she lifted her arm to muffle a coughing fit that came along suddenly, leaving her chest and throat burning as she frowned.

“Shit, Y/N, that sounds bad. Are you okay?” Reggie asked, his voice softer than before and full of concern, something rare for the jock. “Can you ask your parents to get you some medicine or something?”

“They’re not home,” Y/N told him, wheezing slightly when she started feeling another coughing fit coming along. “Look Reg I need to go, don’t worry about me I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah okay, see you.” Reggie responded before she lifted the phone from her ear and ended the call, sighing as she just dropped her phone onto the duvet, too tired to reach over and put it back on her nightstand.

As quickly as she had been woken up her eyes started closing again, drifting off into an uncomfortable and achey sleep that she expected to drift in and out of all day.

What was not expected was a loud knock at her door just over an hour later, followed by four impatient rings of her doorbell.

Y/N scowled as she opened her eyes, hoping whoever was there would go away, though after six more impatient rings of her doorbell and bangs against the door that she was sure could leave a dent she groaned and forced herself out of bed to open the door.

Everything was sore as she got to her feet and shuffled into her slippers, still in the same pyjama trousers and an old Bulldogs jumper that she had stolen from Reggie that she had been in for the whole weekend. Her hair was still up in the same beyond messy bun too, loose hairs spreading out like she had been electrocuted. The flush in her cheeks from her fever was prominent, sticking out against the pale sickly colour of the rest of her face.

By the time she had gotten to the door she was wheezing from another coughing fit, and had to cover her mouth with her arm again as she pulled it open to reveal who was there.

Reggie Mantle.

“M’lady.” He bowed falsely as she had opened the door and she frowned in confusion, eyeing him up.

He was still dressed like he was going to school, his backpack still slung over his shoulder, though in his arms he carried a flask, a handful of sunflowers that looked suspiciously like the ones she had in her front garden, a water bottle, and a bottle of medicine.

“Reggie, what- what are you doing here?” Y/N’s mouth opened as she stared at him, more confused than anything. He didn’t particularly like school but he never skipped Mondays - Mondays were the days for Bulldogs practice.

“I’m here to see my favourite little honey-bun of course.” Reggie teased as he reached out a somehow free hand and gently tapped the edge of her nose before he held everything with two hands again as he stepped inside without waiting for her to let him, allowing the door to shut behind him.

“You have school.” Y/N deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes as he looked at her.

“Thanks Captain Obvious, what a real find you have there.” Reggie responded and Y/N huffed as she crossed her arms.

“No seriously Reg what’re you doing here, you’re gonna miss class and-“ Y/N started before she cut herself off as she started coughing again, wincing as the pain spread through her chest with every cough she let into her sleeve.

“Okay calm down before you end up dying on me,” Reggie shook his head, emptying his arms onto the nearest surface so he could gently rub her back as she coughed. “You said your parents weren’t here and it’s really shitty to have to be sick on your own so I wanted to help.”

When Y/N had turned to look at him he was smiling genuinely which caused a similar expression to form over her lips, thankful that he would do something so kind for her. “Thanks Reg.”

“No problem,” He shook his head, before he paused and moved to grab the flowers again and held them out to her. “These are for you, sugar plum.” He teased and she rolled her eyes but took the flowers nonetheless.

“Thank you, I’ve got some sunflowers just like this outside.” Y/N smiled and almost laughed out loud at the panicked look that briefly crossed his face.

“What a coincidence,” Reggie mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, before he cleared his throat and took the flowers back from her. “Okay, you go get in bed and I’ll get these in a glass and sort everything else out.”

“Everything else? Reggie what-“

“Go, now, don’t make me count to three.” He threatened jokingly, and though she rolled her eyes she still turned to walk back upstairs, leaving Reggie to fumble around downstairs. He had been in her house enough times to know where everything was already. Reggie usually came to her house when things were getting hard with his dad, and although her parents claimed to have no clue what his situation with his dad was like, there was always a blow-up bed prepared on her bedroom floor when he happened to stay for dinner.

Y/N got back into bed and propped her pillows up so she was sat against the headboard, signing as she leaned back. It was another ten minutes before Reggie walked through her bedroom door, carrying a tray with him that he placed on her bedside table. On the tray sat the sunflowers in a glass of water, a bottle of water, a bottle of medicine, and a bowl of soup - which was what she was assuming was in the flask he brought. Even though he didn’t seem like the type, Reggie was an amazing cook, and made the best soup. She had mentioned how much she liked it once, and somehow since then whenever she was feeling sad or unwell Reggie brought her some of his soup for her to have.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile softly as she watched him carefully place the tray down before he moved to sit on the bed beside her, passing over the bowl of soup with a spoon.

“Thank you, Reggie.” Y/N said softly, her voice full of sincerity as she leaned against him slightly, smiling further into her first spoonful of soup when she felt his arm curl around her shoulders.

Y/N and Reggie had always been very close. It was normal for them to hold hands, or for him to carry her, or to pretty much do everything that a couple would do, other than kiss. Half of the time Y/N didn’t know where they stood on terms of their relationship, whether they were best friends or whether they were more, but she knew for a fact that she wouldn’t trade it for anything; she had the best person on the planet all to herself.

Y/N ate the soup quietly as she listened to Reggie telling some story about football, letting him do all of the talking as she had the soup that he had made for her. She didn’t look away from him as he spoke, and before she knew it she had finished the whole bowl of soup and half of her bottle of water by the time his story was over.

She wheezed again as she coughed which prompted Reggie to reach over and grab the bottle of medicine, causing her to frown a little.

“The liquid stuff’s really gross.” She pouted, and Reggie just rolled his eyes as he poured a spoonful out.

“Take it or I’ll spoon feed you.” Reggie threatened jokingly, and thinking he wouldn’t she just shook her head and didn’t take the spoon from him, leaving him holding it up in the air.

Reggie just shook his head and lifted his spare hand up to her, a finger underneath her chin which he used to tilt her head upwards. Her mouth fell agape upon shock of the action, her heart suddenly fluttering in her chest madly, so he used the opportunity to fit the spoon into her mouth so she could have the medicine.

Y/N pulled a face as soon as the bitter taste hit her tongue which prompted the jock to laugh as he took the spoon back, and handed her the water bottle to wash away the bad taste.

“Aww you’re so cute, you know that snookums?” He teased as he tucked her underneath his arm again, and she just groaned quietly as she nudged his ribs with her elbow.

“Cut it with the pet names, Mantle.” She huffed quietly as she let her head drop to rest on his shoulder.

“Why, pumpkin, you’re just way too adorable to stop.” Reggie teased again and grinned, causing her to just roll her eyes in response.

After a moment she watched as Reggie reached over to her bedside table to grab her hairbrush, and before she could ask what he was doing, she felt his fingers carefully pull the current hair tie out of her hair before he started running the brush through her hair gently. Her eyes fluttered closed as he brushed her hair, and then ran his fingers through it after; which caused butterflies to pool in her stomach and a stupid girlish smile to paint over her lips.

She stayed quiet for another few moments as she leaned into him, fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper she was wearing to keep her fingers busy before she turned her head to look up at him again once he had finished brushing her hair, leaving it in a loose ponytail once he was done. “Thank you for coming today,” She said softly, meeting his eyes as he smiled genuinely too. “It means a lot.”

“It’s no problem, I just didn’t want you to be alone.” He said softly and shrugged a little.

Y/N smiled softly, though yawned before she could say anything else, her eyes closing for a brief moment. With being exhausted from being sick anyways, paired with the warm soup in her belly and the comforting arm around her shoulders, it was extremely tempting to fall asleep there and then.

“Get some sleep,” Reggie mumbled as he gently rubbed her arm, prompting her eyes to close properly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“Thanks Reg.” Y/N whispered softly with a sleepy smile across her lips.

“Of course.” He muttered, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head which caused her to smile a little more as she relaxed into him, sleepy and happy in the arm of her best friend.

Best friend, though maybe more.

[leyswhumpdump]

Don’t Make Me

Day 29 of @themerrywhumpofmay

Little drabble piece inspired by my post about the winged circus boy.

Tropes and CWs: cage, circus setting, character refusing food, dissociation.

“Don’t make me do it,” the ringmaster warned.

The winged boy glared from his cage, still defiant even though his hands were trembling.

“You will eat when I say you eat. If you refuse food, there will be consequences.” The ringmaster’s circus staff lifted off the floor, tapping once, twice on the bars. Each tap rang out with hollow vibrations. “Our schedule doesn’t start for another couple of weeks. Plenty of time for bruises to fade.”

The cane reached between the bars, jabbing against the winged boy’s throat. The confines of the cage meant he couldn’t back away, only flinch. His chin lifted involuntarily as the cane swept upwards, forcing him to make eye contact with the ringmaster. When his dull expression gave him away, a sharp forward press of the cane snapped away the dissociative gaze. “You will be present for this discussion.”

It wasn’t much of a discussion, the winged boy thought sourly. A discussion implied two parties welcome to speak.

“Pick up the plate.”

The winged boy flinched again at the command, but picked it up. He wished he were brave enough to hurl food in the ringmaster’s face.

The ringmaster did not lower his cane. A sinking feeling told the winged boy his space would only be his own again when he’d swallowed every last disgusting morsel. Making eye contact with his owner the whole time. He couldn’t even lower his head to look at his food as he set the plate on his shaking knees.

The ringmaster smiled. He’d won this round and he knew it.

“Now eat.”

[bastardsunlight]

"Grip" (Jayce and Viktor. Your choice on what kind hehehe)

Viktor has surprising strength for a man with a bum leg and a terminal illness. His hand on Jayce’s chest puts the Piltovan on his rear-end in a chair. The back of it rattles the table behind him. He opens his mouth to protest, shifting forward to stand when Viktor invades his space, using his cane expertly to toss aside one thigh. Strong, nimble fingers close about his jaw and force his attention upward. Jayce’s heart thumps hard in his broad chest as Viktor leans down and whispers something absolutely obscene into the kiss that closes the heated gap between their mouths.

Send “grip” for your muse to grip my muse’s chin.

[s1st3r]

Coincidence (Fives x f!Reader) Part 1

Author Note: This was originally a super basic idea that I just got really carried away with and before I knew it I had 1666 words and was like “welP. We’re doing multi chapter stuff now”. Bit of a slow pace at the moment. Part 2 will have more action.

Summary: You and Fives are assigned on a delicate infiltration mission. 

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1666

Rex’s POV

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have them working together on this mission?”

I had to admit, I too was second guessing. It was a risky move, but I had faith that Fives and Y/N could pull this off.

“Yes sir,” I affirmed, “their specialised training accommodates for missions of this nature.”

“I’m well aware of their training Rex.” General Skywalker replied as we entered the bridge and approached the holotable. “I just wonder if things might get too… personal.”

“Sir, they’re the most dedicated soldiers I’ve ever met-“

“You mean the most stubborn,” Ahsoka, whom had been waiting for us on the bridge, supplied with a grin.

The general nodded his head reluctantly as though not completely convinced. He brought his hand up to rest on his chin as he contemplated.

“The communications have been established sir,” interrupted Admiral Yularen as he joined those of us surrounding the holotable.

A crackling sound came through as Fives and Y/N’s comms came online.

“Y/N comm check.”

“Fives comm check.”

General Skywalker leaned forward, overseeing the map of the multi-level mansion before him and the two red bleeping icons that signaled their positions.

“You’re clear to proceed,” he advised.

“Copy that,” rang Y/N’s clear voice.

I turned to face the general.

“They know what needs to be done sir.”

Skywalker considered my words carefully. He sighed, “I don’t know Rex. What if they’re not prepared to do what needs to be done?”

  Your POV

Heels echoed throughout the dimly lit hallway as I followed the sound of distant music and murmuring that spilled from the ballroom. As I drew closer, I held my breath in anticipation.

Or was that just this ridiculously tight corset?

I fluttered the fan in my hand in a feeble attempt to act like the lady everyone thought I was, while forcing some oxygen into my lungs. I took a deep gulp of air and compelled a graceful smile to my lips before I stepped into the light and glamour of the ongoing party.

Swiftly, I made my way over to the far side of the room where small tables covered in fine white tablecloth were dotted about for guests to rest at when their feet got tired of the dancing. Since it was still early in the night, many seats were yet to be occupied.

As inconspicuously as I could, I seated myself at a table displaced relatively far from the crowded dance floor. Casually, as if simply admiring the grand space, I surveyed the area. The room itself had to be at least three stories high with massive columns reaching up from the marble floor and curving to intertwine at the center of the ceiling, creating an arched effect. A magnificent chandelier was strung from the heights of the room and casted a beautiful reflection upon the floor’s surface and her dancers.

Hundreds of strangers in expensive clothing mingled below, constantly switching partners through the course of the dance. Swirling skirts and glimmering jewels were all that could be seen as I observed the onslaught of people.

All of this I saw in only a glance before my eyes found our man across the dance floor from me. He stood tall in a suit, cane in hand, as he conversed with other young men. Unfortunately, my eyes failed to find my man who was meant to be already situated at the main hall’s back exit.

I noted to my right, an approaching butler serving crystal glasses filled with rich red wine. Effortlessly, I reached out, seized a glass from the silver tray as he passed and brought the goblet to my lips as though to drink.

“I’m in position,” I muttered. “Eyes are on the target and ready to engage. Fives where are you?”

Small static sounds could be heard through my comm as the audio came through.

“Relax,” came the smooth reply, “I wouldn’t want to miss the party.” I resisted rolling my eyes at the slight tease in his tone. “Besides,” he continued, his voice dropping low, “I would love to see you in that dress again mesh’la.”

“Focus Fives.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth at the General’s curt interruption.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Fives slip through a side door clad in the guard uniform he had stolen. My smirk grew. He looked so cute in the dress uniform; little epaulettes and all. Clearly Fives wasn’t the only one distracted. I forced my attention to the task at hand.

“Ready when you are.”

“About time,” I breathed as I left my cup on the table and stood. “Approaching target.”

 The Jedi Council had heard of a new Separatist general joining the fray.

Yavaros Tai.

Rumour had it that Tai was finalising his designs of a deadly weapon that he was revealing to his Separatist sponsors tonight. Clearly, the surrounding men he spoke to were his said benefactors. Wealth dangled from them.

Edging closer, I noted that he looked far younger than I had anticipated. No older than his mid-twenties.

The dark blue floral dress I wore dragged along the floor, so much so, not even my heeled shoes had given me the height I needed, and I resorted to tug the front of my dress upward to refrain from tripping. I hoped that all would go to plan, and I wouldn’t have to try and run in this thing. My only comfort was that I was well rehearsed in these kinds of missions and, on more than one occasion, proved myself to be surprisingly sufficient in improvising… and running.

As I approached the group of men, I planned my next steps carefully in my head. Now, with them only a few feet to my right, I looked over my shoulder as though entranced and distracted. An oblivious dancer, close to the edge of the throng, accidently collided into me and sent me tumbling. Before I could even register the surprised shouts of men, strong arms caught me, and I looked up to see the bright blue eyes of General Tai. Perfect.

  Fives’s POV

She was beautiful.

I knew we were in the middle of a mission, but my eyes were completely spellbound as they intently traced her movements. She moved with a grace and sophistication I had never seen on her before and, despite being dressed to fit in for the event, she stood out like a rose among thorns.

From my position near the doorway, I spied the envious looks from the surrounding women as she walked the expanse of the hall. I didn’t fail to realise the visible admiration from the men nearby either, but my brief jealousy was quickly replaced by pride. I couldn’t help the smug smile.

That’s my girl.

I wished I could be beside her. Show those men she was mine. Maybe ask her to dance. We could dance and laugh until our feet got tired and then leave the party, running down the empty corridors. We would find a way to climb up to the roof and spend the rest of the night under the stars like I know she loved to do.

My smile faltered. Not for the first time, disappointment and love fought for control as I struggled to come to terms with reality.

Because standing alone on the outskirts, I was again reminded anew.

She may love me, but I could never give her the life she deserved.

  Your POV

My mouth gaped open in false shock.

“Oh, excuse me!” I exclaimed. “My sincerest apologies!”

The corner of General Tai’s eyes crinkled in amusement as I gathered myself and pretended to act gushed and embarrassed. Smoothing out my dress, I noted his hands still rested on my shoulders. One of them still held onto his cane. Almost reluctantly, he let his arms fall to his sides as he took in my appearance. I blushed as his penetrating eyes slowly raked down and back up my form.

“My my,” he hummed, “what a beautiful specimen.” His hand caught mine and gently lifted it to brush his lips against my knuckles. His eyes stared intently into mine. It made me uncomfortable. In many ways he was generically handsome, blue eyes, blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a refined posture. Nothing like Fives with his dark features, rugged look, wild smile, and-

“Ehem.” My thoughts were interrupted when a man to our side leaned closer to the general. “We have important matters to discuss sir.” His narrowed eyes flickered over to me. I could tell he was trying to intimidate me as he squared his shoulders.

“Nothing that can’t wait Cronan.” Yavaros’s eyes never left mine.

“But sir- “

“Cronan,” Tai interjected, finally tearing his gaze away from me to focus on the man beside him. “This is a party, is it not? Enjoy yourselves this evening gentlemen. We will discuss business later.”

Cronan shot me daggers as him and the other men dispersed and weaved themselves among the partygoers. Some opted to dance, while most continued to converse with other diplomats.

“Looks like a fun crowd,” I remarked sarcastically, drawing the general’s attention back to me.

“Ah yes,” Tai smirked as his piercing eyes turned to fix on me once more. “I should like to apologise for his curtness. Cronan is… ambitious, and very keen in his handling of business.”

I look of hunger flashed in his eyes.

“Perhaps in some ways, I am no different.” I tried not to squirm as he edged closer to me.

“Oh?”

Ahhh man.

“Mmm.” I felt his breath ghost my cheek as he whispered in my ear. “I’m ambitious to gain your affections Miss…”

“Miss Y/N,” I supplied in a breathy tone. While he mistook it for admiration, I tried to steal my nerves.

He leered. “Miss Y/N,” he murmured, as though playing how the name felt on his tongue. The tension in the air tangible. “Would you join me for a walk?”

To be continued...

~ Sister

Tags: @imalovernotahater​ @kaorikoizumi​ @xlittlemissydjx​ @damerondala​

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future works!

[actress4him]

In Irons 5 - Defiance

(Prompt #20 for Summer of Whump)

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101 , @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: lady whumpee (male whumper), forced labor, sexism, fear of heights, mentioned starvation, mentioned sleep deprivation, restraints

.

.

Life on The Dark Storm continues, but everything is different now. Everyone on the ship seems to have an opinion about Adelaide, and none of them are good. Whereas before, she was ignored by some and treated like she was weak and stupid by others, now part of the crew thinks she’s helpless, part glare at her like she’s the devil incarnate, and part give her hungry looks that send shivers up and down her spine.

Captain Payne is in the second group. She’s not sure whether it’s the fact she’s a woman or because of her perceived lies, but it’s obvious the man hates her, if not by the way he stares her down, then by the extra load of work he’s suddenly thrust upon her.

It starts with menial tasks, like the ones she’s been doing since being brought aboard. Only now he seems to find twice as many that need completing, and he personally comes to inspect her work and make sure that it’s absolutely perfect. If she’s scrubbing the deck and he finds one single speck of dirt on it - even if it was put there after it was cleaned - she has to do the whole ship over again. If she’s slicing potatoes for dinner, he comes and looms over her shoulder, making her so nervous that she nearly slices off a finger.

Then one day he gets it into his head to start assigning her the most outlandish tasks he can think of. It starts when a line gets snagged, up in the rigging. One of the men immediately starts up after it, but the Captain holds out a hand, stopping him, and turns to Adelaide with that smug smile of his.

“Miss Gray.” He can’t seem to say her name without emphasizing the feminine title. “I believe it’s your turn.”

Her face blanches. Craning her neck back, she stares up at the snagged rope, so high above their heads, and her heart skips a beat or two. She almost blurts out, “Why me?” but somehow, she knows. He doesn’t think she can do it. He’s waiting for her to refuse, to beg not to, or to attempt it and fail. He’s looking for an excuse to punish her.

She’s not going to give him what he wants. Not ever, if she can help it.

Setting her jaw and narrowing her eyes, she marches forward. All around her the crewmen are making comments, some whispered and others not so respectful, but she blocks them out and focuses only on the rope ladder in front of her.

It’s very tall. Stretching on and on, all the way up to the crow’s nest. She tries not to think about it, tries to think only about her hands, gripping the rope, and her feet, finding one foothold after another. But she can still see the water beyond the ladder, and it’s getting further beneath her with each step.

After what seems like an eternity of climbing, she reaches the top of the ladder. She still hasn’t picked up on all of the technical terms of the rigging, but she knows that, somehow, she has to get to the end of the horizontal pole that stretches out from the crow’s nest. Walking isn’t an option. Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out with one hand, feeling around the wood until she thinks she’s got a steady hold. Then, inhaling deeply and gritting her teeth, she lets go of the rope with the other hand, heart leaping into her throat as gravity takes over for a split second until she’s balanced against the pole.

Down below, somebody is cackling. Adelaide resists the urge to look down and see who it is.

Somehow, she gets both of her legs wrapped around the pole. She’s seen the men shimmy along poles and ropes dozens of times before, but seeing and performing are two different things. She really would have preferred to practice first on something a little closer to earth. But she’s here now, and she still refuses to give up and prove any of them right about her, no matter how hard her heart may be pounding against the wood.

Slowly, very slowly, she inches her way out , away from the relative safety of the ladder, out over the open air where there will be absolutely nothing to catch her if she falls. The men jeer and catcall her the whole way. It seems like an eternity before she reaches the snagged rope, all the way out at the end, and carefully pushes herself upright, legs still hugging the pole, so that she can untangle it with one hand.

Deep breath in, and out. The job is accomplished. Now all she has to do is make it back down to solid ground.

When she reaches the ladder, she finally starts breathing normally again. When she reaches the deck, legs shaking, she’s feeling rather proud of herself. That was the hardest task she’d ever had to carry out, and she did it.

Of course the only thing that greets her at the bottom is sneers, chuckles, or, like the Captain, pretense that she doesn’t even exist. A bit of acknowledgment that she had done a good job would have been nice. Still, knowing that she ticked off the Captain is a decent enough reward.

He tries again, many times, to catch her off guard and assign some task that she won’t be able to do. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. The time that he orders her to pull a line that normally requires two or three men ends with her missing meals for two days. Another time her best attempt at tying off a line that she had never worked with before doesn’t hold, and she’s forced to play the role of night watchman for three nights in a row. After, of course, the Captain strikes her a good time or two with his ever-present cane. It’s obviously his favorite form of discipline, used on most everyone at one time or another.

None of it is as terrible as her very first punishment, though, until the day that they come across a passenger ship. It’s certainly not the first ship that The Dark Storm has pillaged in her time on board, but it’s the first that has carried families - women and children.

In the past, Adelaide has helped bring their ship up to whatever hapless vessel they’ve found, usually ramming into it from behind just like they had The Golden Rose, then hung back while most of the rest of the men boarded, helping to load and stow cargo. She has no desire to help any further than that.

But on this day, while she watches the pristine decks of Foxglove come closer, Captain Payne saunters up to her with the look on his face that she’s come to recognize as bad news for her.

“Miss Gray. You will board Foxglove and help keep the passengers from doing anything...stupid.” With a flourish, he produces a dagger from inside his coat. Small, certainly nothing fancy, but wickedly sharp. “I trust you can figure out how to use this enough to scare a few dumb citizens into behaving themselves?”

Adelaide stares at the gleaming blade of the dagger for a long moment, heart in her throat. She can’t believe she’s actually about to do this, but…“No.”

One bushy eyebrow quirks upwards. “Come again?”

“No, sir.” Adelaide raises her chin and stares him directly in the eyes. “I will not. I won’t be part of those children’s nightmares for months to come.”

Fury and amusement are warring for precedence on Captain Payne’s face. “In all my years as captain, not one crew member has ever had the audacity to outright refuse one of my orders.”

She really should remain quiet, but she can’t. “Well, then, I suppose it’s about time that someone does.”

Fury wins out. “Jones! Take Miss Gray to the brig.” He lowers his voice, stepping in close to growl in her face. “You’ll be thoroughly dealt with later.”

As the irons are clapped on and she’s led into the dark once again, Adelaide wonders just what she has gotten herself into this time.

[silksandcravats]

Training (part 2) Kylo Ren x You

Summary: Kylo has a long and brutal punishment in store for you after your behaviour this morning. Read part 1 here for context

masterlist

WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, dom!kylo, mean!kylo, blindfolds, handcuffs, collar, anal play, slight painal, mention of caning, wax play, crying during sex, PIV sex, generally a bit rough, aftercare tho don’t worry

A/N: Accidentally deleted this b/c i’m dumb so reposting. I apologise this took me ages to write but it’s here now! and it is LONG so i really hope the wait was worth it! (ps gif is basically a visual representation of what he does to you… you da helmet b.)

You managed to keep yourself busy for much of the remainder of the day. You could have any food delivered to your quarters, but today you ate at the furthest dining hall possible, trying to kill time. But it would seem that the more you tried to occupy yourself, the more you found yourself coming up blank. In fact, you couldn’t seem to remember a single hobby of yours, instead your mind forced you to relive the events of your morning again and again.

You refused to acknowledge any form of remorse for your actions, but you couldn’t help it when the anxious knot that had grown in your stomach seemed to tighten further and further with each passing hour. It was only after you had given up your game of playing busy that you were forced to face your waterloo. 

You were sitting on one of the sleek lounge chairs, facing the glass wall that stood between you and the endless mass of glittering stars and indefinite darkness, when the doors opened. You listened to heavy steps enter the quarters, and you closed your eyes for a moment, collecting yourself, bracing for whatever was next to come.

“Come along kitten, we have much to discuss.” He called for you, opting to forgo any pleasantries. You took a deep breath, before standing, following his voice to another room in your quarters. Technically, it was your bedroom, but the room was so large it served multiple purposes, to one side sat a bed, two bedside tables, a door leading to the refresher, and another door to a large closet, on the other side of the room was a few sleek shelves and an excessively large desk a few feet from the wall, and between the two sides, a large expanse of empty floor.

“Bring me your collar.” he said, already holding something in his massive fist you couldn’t quite see. 

You nodded, remembering to add a “yes sir” after he cleared his throat, going to collect the black piece from it’s home in your bedside table. You brought it back to him, setting it down in his waiting hand, before dropping your hands awkwardly to your side, unsure what he wanted you to do with them. He noticed this, but offered you no guidance, grabbing your chin and thrusting it upwards so he could fasten your collar around your neck. He was sorely tempted to pull it too tight, to make you gasp and turn your face a pretty shade of pink, but you would need your breath for what was to come.

 Once the collar was secured he began undressing you swiftly and quietly, face void of emotion. If he was aroused by seeing you nude, he didn’t show it.

He then circled around you, stalking his prey, stopping behind you he moved to blindfold you, robbing you of your sight and encouraging you to tune into your other senses. Once it was on tightly you heard him take a few steps back from you. You stood there a few moments before you heard him speak.

“Kneel.” The addition of the blindfold made the simple task more complicated, as your sense of balance was altered. You did your best not to tip over as you fell to your knees quickly, you knew he was expecting blind obedience, and if you failed to comply immediately he would roughly push you to the ground himself. 

“I must confess pet, I was under the false impression that we were making progress in your training.” He mused circling to your front again. “But your infraction today has made it apparent I have been entirely too forgiving with you. That will have to change.” He paused and could him shuffling next to you and then you felt his hot breath fanning against your ear. “You look so pretty and vulnerable like this baby.”

“Thank you sir.” you purred, grateful for the compliment. 

“It’s too bad I have to punish you for being such an insufferable brat.” he sneered, grabbing your ear tightly, and standing. You winced in pain and followed him up as quickly as possible trying to ease the pressure, but he didn’t let up. He walked to the other side of the room with you staggering blindly just behind him. Using only the grip on your ear, he practically flung you forward so you fell against his desk bent over. Your hands coming to catch yourself a bit too late.

He pulled your arms back meeting them just over the swell of your ass and you felt the unmistakable sensation of standard first order cuffs locking around your wrists. You nearly rolled your eyes, wondering what he had in store for you that he felt the need to restrain you. You were left to wait for a while before you felt contact again. His hand reached your ass grabbing one cheek and crudely pushing it to the side, and then you felt his now slick finger prodding against your back door. You squeaked and tried to move forward but there was nowhere to go.

Self defence wasn’t the only training Kylo was guiding you through. He was obsessed with the idea of claiming you- all of you. And that included every hole. The past few weeks he had begun working you towards taking him up your ass, and while you found the idea of it totally arousing, the painstaking slow path towards it was a pain in the ass, literally. You hated the way it felt so cold going in, the stretch was painful, and at the end of it all it felt like there was no real relief as a plug would usually sit ideally in you, taking up space but not providing you the stimulation you craved. 

Tonight Kylo had decided to use this distaste for anal training against you. You groaned at the feeling as his finger pressed firmly inside your unwilling hole, sliding right in, two knuckles deep working into you. 

“I’ve got a new plug for you tonight little one,” he informed you, pressing his finger all the way in so it sat deep inside you.

“Is- is it bigger?” You asked nervously, trying your luck as you weren’t sure if you were even allowed to talk right now.

“Indeed kitten,” he answered, it seems your question was allowed for now. He continued pushing in a second finger. “I’ve skipped a few sizes, this one’s bigger than you’ve ever taken. And it’s going all the way up your ass.” you shivered at the thought. 

He didn’t prepare you much more before you felt his fingers withdrawal and the tip of a cold steel plug pressing against you. You couldn’t help the grunt of discomfort that fell from your lips as you instinctively clenched tightly, denying him access.

“Don’t fight me.” he commanded calmly, pressing harder against you. You squeezed your eyes tightly under the blindfold, your entire face scrunching with discomfort.

“Don’t want it.” you complained. Suddenly the pressure stopped momentarily.

“Fine,” he relented, tone still eerily calm. “Then you can help me put it in. Hold yourself open.” Your eyes flew open.

“I-I can’t.” You tried, holding your cuffed wrists up slightly as an excuse.

“I won’t repeat myself kitten,” he warned. Not wanting to provoke him further, you elected to oblige. With a pink face and shame filling your guts, you pushed your hands back, grabbing your own ass you pulled yourself open, fully presenting your little hole to him. The position was entirely humiliating, but that was what he was going for.

“The little slut can listen,” he mused, once again lining the steel invader with your entrance. When he pressed again you were unable to resist the way you had earlier, and much to your disappointment you felt yourself beginning to stretch painfully in an attempt to accommodate the foreign object. You could already tell this one was a good deal wider and longer than any of the preceding plugs, and you felt all too sorry for yourself as you thought about how your only option was to lie there and take it. 

“You are going to learn that I have final say of anything and everything that happens to this little hole, and every other inch of your body.” he lectured, pushing deeper and deeper. “This body belongs to me, you are mine, and whatever happens to you is entirely up to me. I will see to it that you learn to listen to me better than you listen to your own body. I know what is best for my pet, and you will listen to me.”

You let out a small whine as the widest part slipped inside of you, but otherwise the plug was fully seated without much further protest from you. Finding yourself too overcome with shame to fight your situation anymore. Once it was all the way, he took a moment to admire the shiny and excessive jewel at the end of the plug before batting your hands away. You worked to even your breathing as he stepped away from you, you could hear his footsteps echo as he walked across the room.

“Open” he came around to your front, placing something hard and wooden, a cane, between your teeth, you bite down, realising he wanted you to hold the implement. “We are going to try something new today, it is intended to be a punishment, although I suspect being the little whore that you are you will find some way to enjoy it. This is practice for you. It will be quite intense but you will not move an inch because I told you not to. Since it’s so hard for you to  follow instructions, you’re going to hold this in your mouth the whole time. If you so much as step a toe out of line, I will cane you until I draw blood, understood?”

You nodded quickly in response to his threat, knowing full well he was not bluffing. 

“Good” he muttered, patting your face and moving behind you again. He allowed you to wait in wonder as he worked behind you. Anticipation swirled in your belly as you wondered what new trick he had in store to make you squirm. 

Suddenly your curiosity was answered as you felt something scalding hot drip onto the top left of your exposed back. You gasped, but fought against your instincts, remaining entirely still. The burn was intense but short lived, You felt white hot pain for the briefest moment, before the substance cooled and hardened against your skin. You quickly realised he was dripping hot wax along your back. 

“How does that feel?” he asked curiously, running a line down a portion of your spine, moving lower down your back towards a region he knew would be even more sensitive.

“Hurts.” you slobbered slightly against the cane holding your mouth slightly agape, fighting your body’s instinct to wiggle away from the sensation. You yelped aloud as you feel a small puddle of wax pool in one of the dimples of your back. Oh how you wanted to arch your back in response. You found that when the wax made contact with the lower portion of your back the sting only halfway subsided when it hardened, a soreness remaining. 

Kylo felt himself hardening at the sight of you. You were purring out pathetic little whines every time he splattered more red wax against your poor flesh. You looked stunning like this, clearly so desperate to move but forcing yourself to be still, to be good for him. Ever the sadist, he continued his work until your skin was practically covered, and your little whines had begun to shift into little moans. Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was rather proud of your resilience, and decided to reward you by trailing his hand down to your dripping, neglected center.

“Just as I expected. Soaked.” he hummed, spreading your labia to expose your clit and opening to the cool air. “It would seem the little painslut enjoyed herself,” he ran his finger just along your opening, but didn’t give you the pleasure of entering you. “I supposed we better take care of this greedy little cunt.” he withdrew his prodding fingers, moving his hands to your wrist. He released you from the cuffs only to grasp your wrists in one of his big hands. With his other hand he grabbed the top of your right arm tightly, pulled you up so your entire naked backside was flush against his clothed front. 

Once you were standing he kept his grip on your wrists but let go of your arm to reach around and pull the cane from your mouth. It was more than a little wet from where you had been holding it in your mouth and you wished your hands were free so you could wipe the drool that had run down your chin. 

“I suppose this will be saved for another time.” He muses, tossing the cane to the side. His next move was to release you from the blindfold, granting you sight again. Your eyes immediately squinted and blinked, trying to adjust to the harsh fluorescents of the room again. He kissed down your neck sloppily, overwhelmed with arousal at how well you had taken the experiment. You basked in the shift of attention for a while before he pulled away from you abruptly. You whined at the loss of contact but he shushed you, pulling away entirely letting your hands go.

“Go wait on the bed for me.” He commanded, softly. You nodded moving to the bed still stark naked to wait for him while he undressed. Your attention was once again drawn to the large plug invading your back entrance, as it shifted inside you with every step you took. You wondered to yourself if he would notice if you reached back and pulled the kriffing thing out. But you decided against it as you crawled onto the bed. Of course he would notice. 

He hadn’t told you how he wanted you to wait for him, so you opted to lie on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching as he finished undressing himself and moved over to you. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you, pressing his mouth against you and you kissed back eagerly, opening wide enough that he could poke his hot wet tongue around, exploring your mouth. His hand slid down, grasping your breast and tweaking one of your nipples between his fingers, making you groan into his mouth. 

You bucked your hips up into him as he twisted and pulled. “Patience,” he warned against your mouth, moving his hand to give your other nipple the same treatment. You whined, and continued bucking yourself upward against his hardened cock, trying to provoke him to hurry up and fuck you already. Suddenly he ripped away from your mouth, grasping your throat roughly and shoving your head back against the pillows.

“You don’t cum until I tell you. Is that clear?” he snarled, pressing just firmly enough to restrict the blood flow to your head. 

“Yes s-supreme leader.” you gasp, knowing the effect his title on your lips had on him. 

“Good girl,” he seemed pleased, releasing your neck, moving his hand down between your legs. His fingers grazed past your entrance, but kept moving further down to where the little plug sat, nestled in your back hole. He twisted and tugged at it, to which you responded with more wiggling and groans. “How’s the new toy treating my little toy?” he pulled it out so that the widest part of the plug was stretching you open again and you squeaked.

“F-full sir, really full.” you tried to respond.

“You better get used to it.” he slammed in all the way back in suddenly, making you jump. “When I shove my cock in there soon, you’re going to feel much more full.”

“Please,” you begged, his words making your pussy clench on nothing and your asshole tighten around the plug.

“Please what?” he hummed, watching you practically writhe on the bed.

“Please fuck me.” You sounded so desperate.

“Fuck you?” he asked in a mocking tone, teasing your clit, his touch was feather light but in your state it was enough to make you jerk your hips.

“Yes, yes please.”

“Have you learned anything today, kitten?” His tone is condescending.

“Yes yes! And I’m so sorry I’ll be so good, please.” you word vomit, hoping you’ll say what he wants to hear.

“You’re sorry?” he taunts, lining himself up.

“Yes, yes I’m really sorry!” you plead, shrieking when he slams into you. 

“Hmm, I better see if I can fuck any last bits of brat out of you, just to be sure.” He begins pounding into you harshly, finally giving you what you want to feel. The sensation of his cokc ramming in and out of you rapidly is only further amplified by the shiny object plugging up your back hole. You felt entirely stuffed, the feeling was overwhelming. “Look at you, I’m going to make such a mess of you kitten, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes supreme leader.” you moaned, every stroke reaching a new depth within.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled, sweat beading on his forehead as he pounded into you.

“Y-you sir.” You pant. He pulled back suddenly, grabbing both of your ankles, he pulled them up and pressed them back as far as you would stretch. You felt the ache grow in your muscles as he slammed into you from the new angle. “Fuck! Kylo I can feel you in my guts!”

“Shit kitten say my name again. Who fucks you so well?” He growled as trying to get his words out straight as you tightened against him.

“You do Kylo! Shit! Kylo!” you were practically howling, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you. “Kylo, k-kylo please, please can I cum?”

“Hold it.” he moved his hand down toying with your clit, making you scream. 

“I-I can’t!”

“You can and you will, what did I just teach you?” He wrapped his free hand around your throat twisting it away from the pillows so he could glare into your glossy eyes and watch you cry.

“Stars! I’m t-trying sir please!” you cried, feeling the familiar knot in your tummy.

“You can do it kitty, make me proud, just a little longer.” He grunted, snapping his hips into you again and again. You cried harder but nodded, watching his concentration as he fucked you into the mattress. He’d make you wait longer, but he was nearing the edge himself.

“Kylo!” You cried, the sensation was building and you knew you couldn’t hold off much longer.

“Shit, come for me angel, be a good girl and cum on my cock. SHIT!” He yelled head twitching inside of you, unloading his seed deep inside of you.

“Kylo!” You cried the knot inside of you exploded and he released inside of you, squeezing again and again as he continued rocking into you. You sobbed loudly, totally blissed out, and entirely overwhelmed. 

Finally, his hips slowed, he let out a grunt, not bothering to pull out of you yet, he collapsed onto you, his heavy weight pressing you into the mattress, comforting you. He buried his face in your neck, panting and you weakly reached your arms up to wrap around his neck, still sobbing into his shoulder as you came down from your high. 

“I’m here angel, I’ve got you.” He pet your head as you cried his name. You could feel his heartbeat, steady across your chest as you came down. Soon your crying was reduced to slow ragged breaths, and you seemed to re-enter your body, all too aware of the wax still stuck to your back, your wrists aching from the cuffs, your pounding head, the foriegn presence in your ass, and the overall feeling of achiness and exhaustion. 

Kylo and his impressive stamina recovered much quicker than you. He pulled his weight off of you, kissed your forehead, and scooped you up, ignoring your noises of protest, he moved and carried you to the refresher. He sat down with you in his lap on the edge of the tub, leaning to plug the tub and turn on the water. 

“Did so well kitten, I’m so proud of you.” he muttered, tightening his hold on you, kissing your temple. 

“M’sore.” you grumble softly. 

“I know baby, here.” He stood and moved you to stand on your feet. You whined again when he let go of you and pressed you slightly to lean over the sink. “Shh, just taking this out.” He hushed you softly, reaching down to work the plug out of you as gently as possible. When more sad noises left your lips, he reached his free hand out for you to grasp. You took it quickly, squeezing a few of his thick fingers in your fist every time you felt a stretch. He let you without complaining, you weren’t really hurting him, especially compared to what he had put you through. 

When he was finished he tugged you up into his chest again, and you nuzzled against him. You were still wobbly from being so fucked out, but his tall, sturdy frame took on most of your weight. He ran his hand up and down your back slowly, cooing more praises to you, about how proud he was, and how good you had been. The skin to skin between the two of you was all too comforting, and you felt your eyes drooping shut to the sound of his thumping chest and the sound of the bath still filling up.

[prismatic-et-al]

It’s the same door. Of course it’s the same door. 

Basira stops when he does, still brushing bits of plastic from her hands. He’s staring up the front porch stairs at something he used to only see in his nightmares. Back when he got normal nightmares. The sensation of his limbs being moved. Spindly legs receding into darkness.

The door. This door.

“What?” Basira nudges him. “Jon.”

“It’s…” his eyes trace the slight warp of the wood, the discolored edge that seems to bend inwards. “It’s, uhm….”

“Jon.” Something tugs at him, and he almost jerks away in panic but it’s just Basira, turning him to face her. She searches his eyes with her own, dark and level. “You going to be able to keep it together long enough to find Martin? Cut off from the Eye and all that?”

He gently tugs himself free of her grip, shaking his head. It does nothing to clear it, but just the name Martin is like a talisman, something he clutches at with every part of himself.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.” He turns to face the stairs again. “It’s just. It’s the same door.”

“Same as what?”

Jon shakes his head, and instead lifts his foot that falls like an anvil onto the first step.

“Stay down here.”

Another step. Basira is still next to him.

“Uh, no way. You look like you’re about to fall over, and I doubt Annabelle Cane is going to go easy on you just because you look like shit.”

“Basira,” he sighs, leaning against the peeling rail. “It’s not—it’s not for you. The door. It’s the same door.”

“Yeah, you still haven’t explained what that means.” Basira matches him as he struggles up another step. “You wanted my help. You found me. So spill.”

“It’s—” he closes his eyes for what he thinks is a second, but must be longer, because when he opens them he’s sitting. Basira is crouching on the step before him, looking unimpressed but with a line of worry between her brows.

“Yeah. Cane’s going to eat you alive like this.”

He manages a dry laugh.

“In the most literal sense possible, yes.”

“I was being literal.” Basira nods up the stairs. “Can you stand? I can do recon, check the house if you wait here.”

“No, no.” Jon focuses on Martin. Martin. Martin. He grabs the rail, dragging himself upwards and blinking away the dizziness. He wonders idly if it had been this bad at Salesa’s. “I need...I need to, uhm…”

He lets himself trail off, the end of the thought sacrificed for the sake of trudging up the last five stairs. Basira stays at his elbow, tense and silent.

The door is waiting.

He stops before it. Martin’s just inside. He must be. He has to be. He squares his shoulders, clenching his burned hand.

He knows what’s next.

“You might want to stand back,” he says, after a moment of studying the familiar grain of the wood.

“Why.” Basira raises an eyebrow. “Spider jump scare inside?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. “Just...stand back.”

Basira regards him, tapping her foot.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to do something unbelievably stupid?”

“Because I—because I am!” he laughs harshly. “I’m in the one place I can’t truly defend myself, lured here by the one thing I’ve never properly understood the motives of, about to knock on the same door that’s probably just been, been waiting for this moment! It knows I don’t have a choice while Martin’s inside, just like it knows I’d end up here in the first place.”

He starts to raise his hand again, chest constricting as he stares down the door. As the door stares right back.

“Then don’t knock.”

He freezes, hand half-raised.

“I—what?”

Basira shrugs.

“Then don’t knock. We can just...let ourselves in. If you say it’s waiting for you to knock, then let it wait. Not like we’re making a social call.”

“Martin’s inside,” he reminds her impatiently. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’m not saying we don’t go inside, we just…” she tosses her chin to the side of the house. “I dunno. Break a window or something.”

“It is polite to knock,” he explains absently, and maybe Basira says something in response, maybe she does step back, but he’s not paying attention anymore because his hand is rising, fist clenched.

Not pulled. Not of its own accord. Not even easily. Everything in him is focused on one of two things, one being Martin is here Martin is just on the other side, the other is using every scrap of his willpower to force his shaking hand to extend towards the door, for his knuckles to meet the wood as he raps once—

A hand grabs his wrist, and he’s off-balance enough that he goes with it as it yanks him away from the door. He ends up leaning against the house, heart pounding in his ears as his vision swims with spindly, reaching legs.

“Why,” he pants finally. “Why did you do that.”

“You have a choice, Jon.” Basira lets go of his wrist, dark eyes staring at him. His hand curls to his chest, still clenched in a fist. “It wants you to choose what it wants you to do. It wants you to think you have to do things a certain way.”

“But Martin—Martin’s inside,” he says, almost pleadingly. “It doesn’t—it doesn’t matter! If it’s a trap, if it’s—if it’s a ritual, I can’t—I don’t care, Basira, I can’t—”

He presses his palms to his eyes, head spinning. He can feel Basira still watching him.

“I need to find him,” he says quietly. He drops his hands, looking out onto the overgrowth surrounding the porch, woven with spiderweb and littered with fragments of broken tape recorder no longer speaking in his voice. “I need—I need to.”

“We will.” Basira’s voice has never been comforting in a soft way. It’s like rock, weathered, immovable, warmer in the sun, and Jon’s never been so grateful for it, here on the shade-slanted porch of Hilltop Road. “But we won’t do it on their terms. C’mon.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.”

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

[blueroseblaze]

Snowed In

V and Cyndrea find themselves stuck at Devil May Cry during a flurry while everyone is out on the job, but they manage to entertain themselves.

Written for @cyndrea​ for the @dmcsecretsanta​ featuring her OC Cyndrea. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1255

Warnings: Light NSFW

The snow outside the shop was falling quite intensely, covering the cobblestone streets and walkways in a thick blanket of white. The panes of the shop windows growing icy vignettes around their edges. It was beautiful from within the sheltered walls of the office and thank god Dante had managed to pay the heating bill this month.

The heating hummed, the fan creaked, and the juke box played the same fifty seasonal songs you would expect. Had it not been for her tattooed companion, Cyndrea would have surely gone mad ages ago. Having been left in the dingy Devil May Cry office by the brothers Sparda while they went out for another usual job. How unfortunate however that just after they left, good old jack frost decided to make a grand appearance, trapping you and your companion in the shop. Cyndrea huffed, head leaning on the dented mahogany desk, her pink ears twitching on her head in restless boredom as her cyan eyes drifted to the willowy man adjacent to her.

V sat on the worn leather couch, his lithe fingers flipping through the well-read pages of his book. The signature “V” on the cover catching the light as he turned the pages and adjusted his hold on the book. The way his raven hair fell and obscured his face only added to the mysterious and unapproachable air he gave off, even though the mystery had long worn off since meeting him. His dark green eyes cast down, running over the words he’s read so many times.

Cyndrea couldn’t help but stare, her eyes unable to break away from the beautiful specimen before her. Her face fell into a relaxed dopey smile as she observed V going about his mundane task, as if he were the most beautiful creature in his natural habitat. It was exceedingly difficult to not get caught in his near hypnotic beauty. Eyes painstakingly tracing over each dark marking on every inch of exposed skin, and there was plenty to commit to memory.

Cyndrea couldn’t stop her tongue from rolling over her lips in a hungering manner before her bottom lip was left between her teeth.

“You’re staring again, my kitten,” his low and silky voice penetrated through the room, not once looking up from his reading.

Cyndrea startle up, her body going stiff and her pale cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught. She adverted her gaze, shrinking in on herself and fiddling with her fingers in a feign of innocence.

“Sorry,” she mewed softly, “You’re just so nice to look at.”

V smirks at her before closing his book and laying it respectfully on the couch beside him. He grabbed his silver headed cane and strutted his way over to the desk. Slowly, agonizingly slowly. His long slender legs glided him across the floor and his cane rhythmically thumped across the floor. The smirk never left his perfect face as his foresty eyes raked over Cyndrea’s form. He towered over he as she approached before bending at the waist and supporting himself with one arm over the desk.

“Would you like to take a closer look then?” he asked.

The blush continued to grow in heat under Cyndrea’s skin, her eyes darted all around the room, falling on everything except the man before her.

“Are you perhaps… distracted, my darling?” he inquired.

“Well, it’s just that there’s not much to actually do y’know?”

V gave a low hum, tossing and catching his cane lower on the shaft. He gingerly brought it underneath her chin, tilting her head upwards and forcing her gaze towards him.

“The perhaps I should entertain you.”

Cyndrea swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes and brows relaxing, staring up at the dark poet with a look no longer of innocent embarrassment and puppy love, but of arousal and lust. Only matched by the same look in his dark eyes.

Now words were exchanged as V pulled her forward with his cane, only to lock his soft plump lips to hers. They both hummed in satisfaction as their tongues began to dance between them, exploring each other’s mouths, both laying claim to the other. V’s gentle hands found hers before trailing featherlight fingertips up her arm and to her shoulder, running through her long pink hair, and ceasing at her jaw. He lightly cupped her face to bring her deeper into the sensual kiss. All to soon he pulled away, only a string of saliva connecting them.

“Would you like more,” he huffed, warm breath falling over her now swollen lips, “Is my sweet little kitten hungry?”

“Yes,” Cyndrea mewed desperately.

V gave cruel smug chuckle as he withdrew his can from beneath her chin, standing upright and positioning himself front and center on the other side of the desk. His head titled down ever so slightly, casting a dark shadow on his features, he cured a finger in a come-hither motion, beckoning for the young women before him.

Following his command, Cyndrea rose herself up onto the surface of the desk, perching herself on top of it right in front of V. The tall slender man nudged her knee with his cane, urging her to spread them apart so that he could slip between them. Closing the distance between them and locking lips once again. V let out a sensual moan as his hips met the apex of Cyndrea’s thighs, where he could feel the heat and arousal radiating.

V‘s nimble fingers pressed against her covered sex, coaxing more moans from her pink lips. She gripped his open vest, pulling him taught against her so his bare chest pressed against her breasts under her sweater, which now felt much too hot.

“Eager aren’t we?” he whispered against her lips, causing a shudder to explode up her spine, ears twitching in anticipation on top of her head.

“Just get on with it,” she purred in response, impatience dripping in her shy voice.

Cyndrea was pushed back until her back was flat against the desktop, a much more vulnerable and compromising position.

V licked his full lips as he drank in the image before him. His darling kitten splayed out for him, covered quite modestly yet still seeming so lewd and feral. It was a feast for eyes as his hands roamed under her clothes, cool fingers almost steaming on her heated skin.

She could feel the bulge in his pants as he slowly grinded against her, the old and worn jukebox in the corner being the only thing harmonizing with her moans and mewls for more pressure. The anticipation was unbearable as Cyndrea pawned and gripped at V’s clothes, pulling him even closer but also silently begging for him to remove them.

“Don’t worry,” he huffed, “I’ll be gentle.”

V lowered himself to her, pressing his chest to hers, capturing her lips and tongue in another arousing dance. His hand’s traveled up her torso, until they found her pert breasts hidden beneath the knitted fabric. He tweaked and pinched her erect nipples as his tongue continued to explore deeper into her mouth, and his hips grinded against her sex.

“V,” she moaned loudly, “Please…”

“Great News! The roads cleared up so we…” Dante yelled as he barged through the front door.

Cyndrea screamed as she scrambled away from V to cover herself.

“What are you doing back so early?!” she screamed.

“Why are you fucking on my desk?!”

“Happy holidays,” Vergil droned emotionlessly as he ignored the scene and trudged up the stairs to bed.

Happy Holidays Everyone! - <3 Blue